Need A Tight Hug Quotes

Hearing the dog, Wei WuXian immediately felt his hair rise. He shrunk back into Lan WangJi’s arms, half-dead with fright, 'Lan Zhan!' Lan WangJi had already embraced him without needing any reminder, replying, 'I am here!' Wei WuXian, 'Hug me!' Lan WangJi, 'I am hugging you!' Wei WuXian, again, 'Hug me tight!' Lan WangJi, also, 'I am hugging you tight!

Parents, she thought, learned to survive touching their children less and less. As a baby Pearl had clung to her; she’d worn Pearl in a sling because whenever she’d set her down, Pearl would cry. There’d scarcely been a moment in the day when they had not been pressed together. As she got older, Pearl would still cling to her mother’s leg, then her waist, then her hand, as if there was something in her mother she needed to absorb through the skin. Even when she had her own bed, she would often crawl into Mia’s in the middle of the night and burrow under the old patchwork quilt, and in the morning they would wake up tangled, Mia’s arm pinned beneath Pearl’s head, or Pearl’s legs thrown across Mia’s belly. Now, as a teenager, Pearl’s caresses had become rare—a peck on the cheek, a one-armed, half-hearted hug—and all the more precious because of that. It was the way of things, Mia thought to herself, but how hard it was. The occasional embrace, a head leaned for just a moment on your shoulder, when what you really wanted more than anything was to press them to you and hold them so tight you fused together and could never be taken apart. It was like training yourself to live on the smell of an apple alone, when what you really wanted was to devour it, to sink your teeth into it and consume it, seeds, core, and all.

What is now the EU was set up so that France and Germany could hug each other so tightly in a loving embrace that neither would be able to get an arm free with which to punch the other.

Some people just needed a tight hug. Around the neck. Wait, I was actually thinking about choking him.

You need to have mercy on me, baby," his tone turned slightly threatening, "before I snap." "I told you to stay the fuck away from him. I told you not to let him touch you. I told you not to let him kiss you. Did he fuckin' kiss you again? You let him fucking touch you again?" "Am i gonna have to beat the shit out o' him? Is that what it's gonna take?" "He can't fuck you, Elaina." His hands released her wrists and dropped down until his arms encircled her waist completely. He hugged her to him, running his hands up and down her back. "I get that you're too young for me. I can't have you yet." His hands clenched tight in pure possession. "But baby, you need to take care. You belong to me--" She jerked in his arms and caught him off guard. "I don't belong to you---" His head whipped up to glare at her face and his hand grabbed her chin and lifted it. "You're gonna fckin' belong to me. Just as soon as you get grown, I've told you before. But you need to take care, protect what's mine, or all bets are off and I'll move in now. Your choice. I'll give you time and space but you gotta promise. Nobody fucks you. Now. Promise Now.

I knelt down and hugged the furry monster for a while. If it was too tight, Ghost didn't seem to mind. He wagged his tail and whined a little, sensing the hurt that I felt. Dogs are truly the best of companions. You don't need to explain. They know as much as they need to know, and they are loyal no matter what sins you've committed.

You’re not trying to protect me. You’re trying to protect yourself.” She hugged herself to him tightly. “But you can force yourself to take the risk of loving someone, can’t you?” “No,” he whispered. “Yes. You must.” Evie closed her eyes and pressed her face against his. “Because I love you, Sebastian…and I need you to love me back. And not in h-half measures.

But he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his chest in a hug so deep it blotted out Market Day entirely. He held me, resting his cheek against the crown of my head, his heart drumming against my ear. I inhaled him, leather and smoke and cedar, settling into his arms like a rabbit in its warm, safe den. I had not fit into anyone’s arms like that since childhood. And even then, no one had ever held me so tightly—as if they needed me in their arms as much as I needed to be held. As if nothing else mattered but to hold one another. As if we had all the time in the world.

Sometimes,” he replies and pulls me into his arms, hugging me tight, “two people have to fall apart before they can realize how much they need to fall back together. And now that you know better, you can do better.

I don’t know if I’ll ever go through with it. I’m just too much of a perfectionist, I guess. I’d rather be nothing than be middle-of-the-road.” She hugged me tightly. “You’re not middle-of-the-road, Topher. You’re fast lane, all the way. You just, you know, need to find the right car.

And I’m not sure why I wasted all that time and energy, because when I think about family—that thing I’d always longed for—it’s never been a Norman Rockwell painting that I picture. It’s me and Mom, on the couch, eating microwaved corn dogs while Dial M for Murder plays on TV. It’s running out from the library at night to her car, a greasy box of Little Caesars pizza in the passenger seat, her joking, I thought we’d do Italian. It’s being pulled away from watching the frost melt on the living room window to make stovetop hot cocoa from a packet, and that last tight hug at the end of the airport security line, and packing up cardboard boxes, knowing I’ll always have what I need, no matter how much I leave behind.

She smelled like apples and rose perfume, the smell of my childhood—skinned knees and pancakes in the breakfast nook and Sundays at the library, sitting in the stacks reading romance novels. She hugged me so tightly, it felt like every memory was a bone in my body that she needed to hold on to, to make sure they were still here. Still real.

People, like houses, hold their secrets. Sometimes the secrets inhabit them, and sometimes people inhabit their secrets. They wrap their arms tight to hug them close, twist their lying tongues around the truth. But, like gravy left overnight, the truth is a thin layer of film that forms and covers the surface. The truth prevails, rises above all else. It squirms and wriggles inside, grows until the swollen tongue can’t wrap itself around the lie any longer, until the time comes when it needs to spit the words out and send truth flying through the air and crashing into the world like…well, like a frozen dead bird through a living room window. Truth and time always work alongside each other.

She hugs me tight, wetness from her eyes prickling my skin, but I’m not fazed. I can handle it. I can take her anger, her fear, her sadness. I can take it all because that’s what people do when they love each other. They don’t tell them to stop or to think of something better. They hold them for as long as they need it. They’re there for each other. As it should be.

Do you think, little flower, that there will ever come a day when you regret meeting me?” he asked quietly. “Yes,” she said simply. “I see,” he said tightly. “Would you like a specific date?” “You are teasing me,” he realized suddenly. “No, I’m dead serious. I have an exact date in mind.” Jacob pulled back to see her eyes, looking utterly perplexed as her pupils sparkled with mischief. “What date is that? And why are you thinking of pink elephants?” “The date is September 8, because, according to Gideon, that’s possibly the day I will go into labor. I say ‘possibly,’ because combining all this human/Druid and Demon DNA ‘may make for a longer period of gestation than usual for a human,’ as the Ancient medic recently quoted. Now, as I understand it, women always regret ever letting a man touch them on that day.” Jacob lurched to his feet, dropping her onto her toes, grabbing her by the arms, and holding her still as he raked a wild, inspecting gaze over her body. “You are pregnant?” he demanded, shaking her a little. “How long have you known? You went into battle with that monster while you are carrying my child?” “Our child,” she corrected indignantly, her fists landing firmly on her hips, “and Gideon only just told me, like, five seconds ago, so I didn’t know I was pregnant when I was fighting that thing!” “But . . . he healed you just a few days ago! Why not tell you then?” “Because I wasn’t pregnant then, Jacob. If you recall, we did make love between then and now.” “Oh . . . oh Bella . . .” he said, his breath rushing from him all of a sudden. He looked as if he needed to sit down and put a paper bag over his head. She reached to steady him as he sat back awkwardly on the altar. He leaned his forearms on his thighs, bending over them as he tried to catch his breath. Bella had the strangest urge to giggle, but she bit her lower lip to repress to impulse. So much for the calm, cool, collected Enforcer who struck terror into the hearts of Demons everywhere. “That is not funny,” he grumbled indignantly. “Yeah? You should see what you look like from over here,” she teased. “If you laugh at me I swear I am going to take you over my knee.” “Promises, promises,” she laughed, hugging him with delight. Finally, Jacob laughed as well, his arm snaking out to circle her waist and draw her back into his lap. “Did you ask . . . I mean, does he know what it is?” “It’s a baby. I told him I didn’t want to know what it is. And don’t you dare find out, because you know the minute you do I’ll know, and if you spoil the surprise I’ll murder you.” “Damn . . . she kills a couple of Demons and suddenly thinks she can order all of us around,” he taunted, pulling her close until he was nuzzling her neck, wondering if it was possible for such an underused heart as his to contain so much happiness.

He thought he saw her smile waver when she read it, then she was hugging him tightly. “You’re the one who needs to take care of yourself. Your escape is still all the news. They’ll be searching for you.” She drew back to look at him, and to his consternation he saw that she had tears in her eyes. “I couldn’t bear to lose you again.” He bent and kissed her forehead. Even if he could speak there was nothing he could say to comfort her.

Neftalí reached out and hugged Mamadre's neck tight. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. He wanted to tell her he was sorry for being angry with her and not talking to her. But his overwhelming emotions stood in the way of his words. 'There now. Let's go inside,' she said. But Neftalí wasn't ready to let her go. He needed one more moment. He whispered in her ear, 'It is not true what they say.' 'And what is that, my son?' A tear ran down his cheek. 'Swans do not sing when they die.

The end of this short story could be a rather disturbing thing, if it came true. I hope you like it, and if you do, be sure to COMMENT and SHARE. Paradoxes of Destiny? Dani! My boy! Are you all right? Where are you? Have you hurt yourself? Are you all right? Daniiii! Why won’t you answer? It’s so cold and dark here. I can’t see a thing… It’s so silent. Dani? Can you hear me? I shouldn’t have looked at that text message while I was driving… I shouldn’t have done it! I'm so stupid sometimes! Son, are you all right?... We really wrecked the car when we rolled it! I can’t see or hear a thing… Am I in hospital? Am I dead…? Dani? Your silence is killing me… Are you all right?! I can see a glimmer of light. I feel trapped. Dani, are you there? I can’t move. It’s like I’m wrapped in this mossy green translucent plastic. I have to get out of here. The light is getting more and more intense. I think I can tear the wrapping that’s holding me in. I'm almost out. The light is blinding me. What a strange place. I've never seen anything like it. It doesn’t look like Earth. Am I dead? On another planet? Oh God, look at those hideous monsters! They’re so creepy and disgusting! They look like extraterrestrials. They’re aliens! I'm on another planet! I can’t believe it. I need to get the hell out here. Those monsters are going to devour me. I have to get away. I’m so scared. Am I floating? Am I flying? I’m going to go higher to try to escape. I can’t see the aliens anymore and the landscape looks less terrifying. I think I've made it. It’s very windy. Is that a highway? I think I can see some vehicles down there. Could they be the extraterrestrials’ transport? I’m going to go down a bit. I see people! Am I on Earth? Could this be a parallel universe? Where could Dani be? I shouldn’t have looked at that text message while I was driving. I shouldn’t… That tower down there looks a lot like the water tank in my town… It’s identical. But the water tank in my town doesn’t have that huge tower block next to it. It all looks very similar to my neighborhood, but it isn’t exactly the same: there are a lot of tower blocks here. There’s the river… and the factory. It’s definitely my neighborhood, but it looks kind of different. I must be in a parallel universe… It’s amazing that I can float. People don’t seem to notice my presence. Am I a ghost? I have to get back home and see if Dani’s there. God, I hope he’s safe and sound. Gabriela must be out of her mind with the crash. There’s my house! Home sweet home. And whose are those cars? The front of the house has been painted a different color… This is all so strange! There’s someone in the garden… Those trees I planted in the spring have really grown. Is… is that… Dani? Yes, yes! It’s Dani. But he looks so different… He looks older, he looks… like a big boy! What’s important is that he’s OK. I need to hug him tight and tell him how much I love him. Can he see me if I’m a ghost? I'll go up to him slowly so I don’t scare him. I need to hold him tight. He can’t see me, I won’t get any closer. He moved his head, I think he’s started to realize I’m here… Wow I’m so hungry all of a sudden! I can’t stop! How are you doing, son?! It’s me! Your dad! My dear boy? I can’t stop! I'm too hungry! Ahhhh, so delicious! What a pleasure! Nooo Daniii! Nooooo!.... I’m your daaaad!... Splat!... “Mum, bring the insect repellent, the garden’s full of mosquitoes,” grunted Daniel as he wiped the blood from the palm of his hand on his trousers. Gabriela was just coming out. She did an about turn and went back into her house, and shouted “Darling, bring the insect repellent, it’s on the fireplace…” Absolute cold and silence… THE END (1) This note is for those who have read EQUINOX—WHISPERS OF DESTINY. This story is a spin-off of the novel EQUINOX—WHISPERS OF DESTINY and revolves around Letus’s curious theories about the possibility of animal reincarnation.

To suggest that someone requires a hug is to say something potentially, but only potentially, demeaning. It’s suggesting that they are, at least for the moment, rather like a child. They have the same kinds of emotional needs that we come to think of as essentially childlike. To need a hug is to admit that one is incapable of coping on one’s own, that one requires protection, guidance, the help of someone wiser and more capable, that one needs to have one’s troubles and anxieties reinterpreted by a more mature mind. It is to say, in shorthand, ‘I am at the moment like a child and I need someone else to be, for a while, like a parent.’ Yet even if we don’t usually like to admit it, there are in fact many times when we should be able to revert to a childlike position. There are moments of adult life when one seems petulant, scared, shy and sure that everything suddenly feels totally unfair. One’s ability to look after oneself is terribly depleted. At such times, to get ourselves back together, we need someone else to take the burden from us. We require the equivalent of what the parent does for the child. We are in need of someone to pat us on the head, to put us to bed early, tuck us in and hold us tight.

reality sucks, that's probably why we dream. Why our bodies need sleep. So we can escape. Escape this earth, at least just for a little while. Everynight, we get to go away. Sleep is the only time I feel safe. The only time I can leave this place. This reality that feels like needles sticking into my flesh. This hell that is so hot it makes my hair sweat. Makes mymind melt. In my sleep I hear music, I see faces, songs and smiles and dad hugging me tight. Never letting me go. Telling me to be strong. Telling me not to give up hope. Sometimes I wake up crying. Sometimes I wish I didn't wake up at all" - jamie adoff

in his mother’s arms, holding on for dear life. He was laughing. Crying? He didn’t care. “You’re here!” he said. Aidana didn’t answer. Maybe there wasn’t much that needed to be said, at least not yet. So she hugged him tight, and he returned the embrace. How long ago had it been since Rollan sat in a filthy dungeon cell, a lost orphan

Christ responded to each temptation by quoting scripture. This, again, was for our benefit. Our Lord didn’t need to get into a theological debate with Satan. He didn’t need to provide the Devil with any exegetical justifications for His actions. But He, the Word, leans on the Word, because that is what we must do when the Devil comes knocking on our door. Jesus is warning us not to rely on our own understanding, our own will, or our own strength when the forces of darkness are scheming against us. All we can do or should do is cleave to God, His Word, and His Righteousness. The Devil cannot carry us away when we are hugging tightly to the Lord. He cannot claim us when we are huddled under the cross.

Fucking hell, she was gorgeous. Her tight jeans hugged her legs in a way that made me envious of the goddamn denim. I was jealous of fabric. Christ, I needed an intervention. A couple of steps carried her around the desk, and I needed to swallow heavily at the picture she painted in those sexy-as-fuck heels and the huge gun strapped under her arm right beside her breast.

HUG DAY POEM: Wrap me in your hug.. make me feel happy! Hold me tight and close.. not like a pillow or a teddy!! My heart needs you.. for you touched my soul, believe me things shall go fine. Walk me to my Dreams.. and take me to divine!! My life is yours forever.. O girl, O girl, O.. O.. girl.. you be mine. Let the hearts embrace.. Sugar you be my.. Valentine. Just be mine.. O O.. my Valentine!

Cabal. Cabal. Cabal. I summon you to me. Now." Simi and Kody exchanged a look that said he was as crazy as he suddenly felt when nothing happened. Great, Dad. I can look stupid on my own. Didn't really need you to help out on that front. That was his thought until he heard a curse and something slammed into him, knocking him against the wall. Nick shoved his attacker away, then froze as he looked into a pair of familiar, startled brown eyes. Now this was the giant badass-tough demon that Nick was used to. "Malphas?" Tense and braced to fight, Caleb turned around slowly, surveying every aspect of his new surroundings. He paused as he faced Kody and Simi. "Where the heck am I? And how did I get here?" Kody pointed to Nick. "Apparently, Nick summoned you." "Nick?" Caleb glanced right past Nick and kept searching the room with his gaze. "Our Nick? Where is the little booger?" She gestured even more exaggeratedly at Nick's position. "Right there." Caleb's jaw went slack as he faced him."Nick?" "Caleb?" The word had barely left his lips before Caleb grabbed him into a bear hug and held him tight. Which was extremely awkward and gross. Completely weirded out by it, Nick tried to disentangle himself from the demon. It wasn't like Caleb to show any emotion toward him other than irritation or frustration. Sometimes anger. "Stop C! If you're going to hug me like this, you got to buy me dinner first, boy. And it's got to be someplace nice, like Antoine's or Brennan's. I ain't easy or cheap." Laughing, Caleb stepped back and narrowed his eyes on Nick as he held him by his arms. "Dude . . . did you lose a bet with a sorcerer or something?" Nick gave him a droll smirk. "Don't taunt me now that I know your real name. I'm told I can do some damage to you with that. Make you fetch my slippers and stuff.

Those are the moments I’m proud of. The times I saw through them. The times I made them work to break me, even though I knew they would. The times I questioned the lies being fed to me, though everyone around me believed. I learned early that if everyone around you has their head bowed, their eyes shut tight—keep your eyes open and look around. I’m reflexively suspicious of anyone who stands on a soapbox. Tell me you have the answers and I’ll know you’re trying to sell me something. I’m as wary of certainty as I am of good vibes and positive thinking. They’re delusions that allow you to ignore reality and lay the blame at the feet of those suffering. They just didn’t follow the rules, or think positively enough. They brought it on themselves. I don’t have the answers. Maybe depression’s the natural reaction to a world full of cruelty and pain. But the thing I know about depression is if you want to survive it, you have to train yourself to hold on; when you can see no reason to keep going, you cannot imagine a future worth seeing, you keep moving anyway. That’s not delusion. That’s hope. It’s a muscle you exercise so it’s strong when you need it. You feed it with books and art and dogs who rest their head on your leg, and human connection with people who are genuinely interested and excited; you feed it with growing a tomato and baking sourdough and making a baby laugh and standing at the edge of oceans and feeling a horse’s whiskers on your palm and bear hugs and late-night talks over whiskey and a warm happy sigh on your neck and the unexpected perfect song on the radio, and mushroom trips with a friend who giggles at the way the trees aren’t acting right, and jumping in creeks, and lying in the grass under the stars, and driving with the windows down on a swirly two-lane road. You stock up like a fucking prepper buying tubs of chipped beef and powdered milk and ammo. You stock up so some part of you knows and remembers, even in the dark, all that’s worth saving in this world. It’s comforting to know what happens next. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that no one fucking knows. And it’s terrifying. I don’t dream of a home and a family, a career and financial stability. I dream of living. And my inner voice, defective though it may be, still tells me happiness and peace, belonging and love, all lie just around the next corner, the next city, the next country. Just keep moving and hope the next place will be better. It has to be. Just around the next bend, everything is beautiful. And it breaks my heart.

Jay came over as soon as Violet called him; she didn’t even have to give him a reason. He was there in less than ten minutes. Of course, he’d heard about what had happened to Hailey. Everyone had. Buckley was a small town, and news traveled fast . . . especially bad news. When he got there she told him what she was thinking about doing. It was nothing dangerous, at least as far as she was concerned, and she hadn’t expected Jay to disagree with her about it. So when he did, she was more than a little bit surprised by his stubborn reaction. “No way,” he insisted, and his voice left little room for argument. “There is no way you’re going to go around looking for this guy.” Violet was shocked by the tone of his voice, and by the harsh look he shot at her. She thought maybe he misunderstood her plan, so she tried to explain it to him again. “Jay, I’m only going to public places, like malls and parks, to see if I can get a feeling for who this guy is. Who knows, maybe he goes to places like that to find them, maybe he hands out there waiting to pick out a girl to . . . you know, kidnap.” She tried to make her argument sound logical, but there was a desperate edge to her voice. “I’m not going out alone . . . you can go with me. We’ll just hang out at different places to see if we can find him. And if we do, we’ll call my uncle. It’s not like we’d do anything stupid.” “’Anything stupid’ would be going out to look for a killer. I won’t let you go looking for trouble, Violet. This guy is dangerous, and you need to leave it to the cops. They know what they’re doing. And they’re armed.” He sounded like he thought she’d lost her mind, and maybe she had, but she had already made her decision. “Look, I’m doing this. I was just asking you to come along with me.” “You’re not,” he insisted. “Even if I have to tell your uncle and your parents what you’re planning. I promise you, you’re not doing it.” She could feel her temper flaring. “You can’t stop me, Jay. If you tell on me, then I’ll lie. I’ll bat my eyes innocently and promise not to go looking for this guy. But I swear to you that every chance I get, even if I have to sneak out of the house to do it, I will be trying to find him.” She stood up, meaning to glare back at him, but instead found herself craning her neck just so she could see his face. The awkward position didn’t steal nay of her thunder. She refused to back down. “I mean it, Jay. You can’t stop me.” Jay glared incredulously back at her. Emotions ranging from disbelief to frustration and back to disbelief again flashed darkly across his face. He seemed to be fighting with himself now. But when she heard him sigh, and then saw him raking his hand restlessly through his hair, she knew she’d won. His icy determination seemed to melt right before her eyes. “Damn it, Violet.” He sighed brusquely, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly. “What choice do I have?” he asked as he practically squeezed the life out of her. She wasn’t sure how to react to him now. It definitely wasn’t a tender hug, but the close contact made her undisclosed desires stir all the same. She couldn’t help wondering if he felt even a fraction of what she did. His arms were strong, and she felt safe in the circle of them. She’d never imaged that she could feel so comfortable and so uncomfortable at the same time. She waited within the space of his embrace to see where this was going. “So, how is this going to work?” he demanded roughly against the top of her head.

Raquel? You coming?” “I honestly never thought I would see the light of day again.” “Aww, come on. With me on your side? Of course things worked out.” She tried to smile, but her eyes filled with tears. Thank you, Evie.” I threw my arms around her in a hug. “You don’t have to thank me.” “I really do. You wonderful girl. I’ve missed you so much.” “Well, now that we’re both unemployed fugitives, think of how much time we’ll have to hang out!” She laughed drily, and we walked with our arms around each other to the house. I opened the door and yelled, “Evie alert! Coming into the family room!” “You made it!” Lend shouted back. “Just a sex, I’ll go to the kitchen. Raquel’s with you?” “Yup!” “Good job! Jack and Arianna got back a couple of minutes ago.” I walked into the family room to find Arianna and Jack sitting on the couch, arguing. “But here would have been no point to you being there if it hadn’t been for my computer prowess.” “But your computer prowess wouldn’t have mattered if you couldn’t have gotten into the Center in the first place.” “Being a glorified taxi does not make you the bigger hero.” “Being a nerd who can tap on a keyboard or being able to navigate the dark eternities of the Faerie Paths . . . hmmm . . . which is a rarer and more valuable skill . . .” I put my hands on my hips. “Okay, kids, take it elsewhere. Raquel and I have work to do.” “Evie,” Raquel said. She was staring at Jack in horror. “Oh, that.” I waved a hand dismissively. “It’s all good. Jack’s been helping us.” “Don’t you remember how he tried to kill you?” Jack rolled his eyes. “Boring. We’ve all moved on.” “Really?” “Not really,” I said. “But he’s behaving. And everyone needs a glorified taxi now and then.” “Admit it: you all adore me.” Jack bowed dramatically as he left the room. Arianna smiled tightly at Raquel and left after him. Raquel collapsed onto the couch and closed her eyes. “You’re working with Reth and Jack? Have you lost your mind?” “Oh, that happened ages ago. But I’ve had to do a lot of rescuing lately, and those two come in handy.” “Do you trust them?” “No, we don’t,” Lend called from the kitchen.

I know I’m supposed to be so smart, but guess what? I don’t remember any of it! And double-guess what? I’m totally fine now, and have been for nine and a half years. Just take a time-out and ponder that. For two-thirds of my life I’ve been totally normal. Mom and Dad bring me back to Children’s every year for an echocardiogram and X rays that even the cardiologist rolls her eyes at because I don’t need them. Walking through the halls, Mom is always, like, having a Vietnam flashback. We’ll pass some random piece of art hanging on the wall and she’ll grab onto a chair and say, Oh, God, that Milton Avery poster. Or, gulping a big breath, That ficus tree had origami cranes hanging on it that awful Christmas. And then she’ll close her eyes while everyone just stands there, and Dad hugs her really tight, tears flooding his eyes, too.

I brushed my teeth like a crazed lunatic as I examined myself in the mirror. Why couldn’t I look the women in commercials who wake up in a bed with ironed sheets and a dewy complexion with their hair perfectly tousled? I wasn’t fit for human eyes, let alone the piercing eyes of the sexy, magnetic Marlboro Man, who by now was walking up the stairs to my bedroom. I could hear the clomping of his boots. The boots were in my bedroom by now, and so was the gravelly voice attached to them. “Hey,” I heard him say. I patted an ice-cold washcloth on my face and said ten Hail Marys, incredulous that I would yet again find myself trapped in the prison of a bathroom with Marlboro Man, my cowboy love, on the other side of the door. What in the world was he doing there? Didn’t he have some cows to wrangle? Some fence to fix? It was broad daylight; didn’t he have a ranch to run? I needed to speak to him about his work ethic. “Oh, hello,” I responded through the door, ransacking the hamper in my bathroom for something, anything better than the sacrilege that adorned my body. Didn’t I have any respect for myself? I heard Marlboro Man laugh quietly. “What’re you doing in there?” I found my favorite pair of faded, soft jeans. “Hiding,” I replied, stepping into them and buttoning the waist. “Well, c’mere,” he said softly. My jeans were damp from sitting in the hamper next to a wet washcloth for two days, and the best top I could find was a cardinal and gold FIGHT ON! T-shirt from my ‘SC days. It wasn’t dingy, and it didn’t smell. That was the best I could do at the time. Oh, how far I’d fallen from the black heels and glitz of Los Angeles. Accepting defeat, I shrugged and swung open the door. He was standing there, smiling. His impish grin jumped out and grabbed me, as it always did. “Well, good morning!” he said, wrapping his arms around my waist. His lips settled on my neck. I was glad I’d spritzed myself with Giorgio. “Good morning,” I whispered back, a slight edge to my voice. Equal parts embarrassed at my puffy eyes and at the fact that I’d slept so late that day, I kept hugging him tightly, hoping against hope he’d never let go and never back up enough to get a good, long look at me. Maybe if we just stood there for fifty years or so, wrinkles would eventually shield my puffiness. “So,” Marlboro Man said. “What have you been doing all day?” I hesitated for a moment, then launched into a full-scale monologue. “Well, of course I had my usual twenty-mile run, then I went on a hike and then I read The Iliad. Twice. You don’t even want to know the rest. It’ll make you tired just hearing about it.” “Uh-huh,” he said, his blue-green eyes fixed on mine. I melted in his arms once again. It happened any time, every time, he held me. He kissed me, despite my gold FIGHT ON! T-shirt. My eyes were closed, and I was in a black hole, a vortex of romance, existing in something other than a human body. I floated on vapors. Marlboro Man whispered in my ear, “So…,” and his grip around my waist tightened. And then, in an instant, I plunged back to earth, back to my bedroom, and landed with a loud thud on the floor. “R-R-R-R-Ree?” A thundering voice entered the room. It was my brother Mike. And he was barreling toward Marlboro Man and me, his arms outstretched. “Hey!” Mike yelled. “W-w-w-what are you guys doin’?” And before either of us knew it, Mike’s arms were around us both, holding us in a great big bear hug. “Well, hi, Mike,” Marlboro Man said, clearly trying to reconcile the fact that my adult brother had his arms around him. It wasn’t awkward for me; it was just annoying. Mike had interrupted our moment. He was always doing that.

Princess, stop walking and just talk to me.” “Why? So you can let me know again how much of a slut you think I am?” “I don’t,” he let out a half-growl, half-sigh, “I don’t think you’re a slut. You just caught me on a bad day.” “Let me guess Chase, you hurt me because you were just so damn mad … am I right?” I threw his line from a month ago back in his face and he paled. His hand came up and brushed my hair back, holding it away from my face as he stared into my eyes, “This is why I told you I would never be good enough for you, all I do is hurt you Princess.” “This isn’t about you being, or not being good enough for me. I just want to be your friend, and you’re making that impossible.” Friend, he mouthed and scratched his head before grabbing a fistful of hair, “Okay, fine, we’re friends. But I need you to stop approaching me around my house and at school.” “What? Then that puts us exactly where we’ve been the last three weeks, that doesn’t change anything.” “It needs to be that way.” He released both his hair and mine at the same time and turned away for a second before facing me again, “Sundays are the only day I get you. Those are the only days when you’re here with me.” I opened my mouth but he stopped me, “No, I know you’re not here for me … but you’re here. And he’s not.” He bent his knees so we were eye to eye, “I need these days with you Harper. But every other day, you’re his and it’s not a good idea for us to be around each other then. So stay away. Please.” “Chase …” “If you think acting like you don’t exist isn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever done, you’re wrong. I hate not talking to you, I hate not bickering like we’re an old married couple and I hate not spending every day right next to you. But this is how it has to be, Brandon hates me, and Princess trust me when I say he has every reason to. So if after everything I’ve done to you, you’ll still even consider being my friend, then it has to be Sundays only.” “Brandon won’t care if we’re friends.” Okay I wasn’t entirely sure that was true. He smiled and shook his head, “I know you’re not that naïve. Now go have lunch with Mom and Bree, then get your ass back here so I can have my few stolen hours with you.” I walked toward the entryway but stopped after a few feet, “Chase?” “Yeah Princess?” Looking over my shoulder, I held his gaze, “Will you please stop hurting me … in every way?” Chase closed the distance and pulled me into a tight hug, “Go eat sweetheart.” That

I stepped forward, and didn't give Lucien time to step back as I hugged him tightly. 'Thank you,' I said, trying not to think about all the steel on him- if he'd need to use it. 'It was time,' Lucien said quietly, giving me a squeeze. 'For me to do something.' I pulled away, surveying his scarred face. 'Thank you,' I said again. It was all I could think of to say. Rhys extended a hand to Lucien. Lucien studied it- then my mate's face. I could nearly see all the hateful words they'd spoken. Dangling between them, between that outstretched hand and Lucien's own. But Lucien took Rhys's hand. That silent offer of not only transportation. Before that dark wind swept in, Lucien looked back. Not to me, I realised- to someone behind me. Pale and thin, Elain stood atop the stairs. Their gazes locked and held. But Elain said nothing. Did not so much as take one step downward. Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye- the longing and sadness. And when Lucien turned to signal to Rhys to go... He did not glance back at Elain. Did not see the half step she took toward the stairs- as if she'd speak to him. Stop him. Then Rhys was gone, and Lucien with him. When I turned to offer Elain breakfast, she'd already walked away.

Parents, she thought, learned to survive touching their children less and less. As a baby Pearl had clung to her; she’d worn Pearl in a sling because whenever she’d set her down, Pearl would cry. There’d scarcely been a moment in the day when they had not been pressed together. As she got older, Pearl would still cling to her mother’s leg, then her waist, then her hand, as if there were something in her mother she needed to absorb through the skin. Even when she had her own bed, she would often crawl into Mia’s in the middle of the night and burrow under the old patchwork quilt, and in the morning they would wake up tangled, Mia’s arm pinned beneath Pearl’s head, or Pearl’s legs thrown across Mia’s belly. Now, as a teenager, Pearl’s caresses had become rare—a peck on the cheek, a one-armed, half-hearted hug—and all the more precious because of that. It was the way of things, Mia thought to herself, but how hard it was. The occasional embrace, a head leaned for just a moment on your shoulder, when what you really wanted more than anything was to press them to you and hold them so tight you fused together and could never be taken apart. It was like training yourself to live on the smell of an apple alone, when what you really wanted was to devour it, to sink your teeth into it and consume it, seeds, core, and all.

finally there was only one corpse left. A large man, weighing well over two hundred pounds, lay tightly wedged between two boulders deeply imbedded in the earth. His shirtless torso had a sickly greenish sheen. The only way to dislodge the man was to wrap arms around him in a bear hug and pull him from the rocks—not a pleasant prospect. We huddled in a silent group and looked at the dead man, building our resolve. Finally, SSgt. Ken Bollinger spoke, “I’ll do it.” The rest of us sighed in relief. Ken had a body builder’s muscular physique. He would need his great strength to free the wedged corpse. Sergeant Bolliger positioned a vinyl body bag next to the man-in-the-rocks. Then he lay on top of the corpse and worked his arms under and around the dead man’s chest. He intertwined his fingers, locked his grip and squirmed to his knees, struggling for leverage. As Ken heaved upwards we watched in awe as his muscles bunched and his face reddened with herculean exertion. And suddenly, the man-in-the-rocks came apart in the middle, his entrails spilling onto the ground. Some of us groaned and turned away, but Sergeant Bollinger was unfazed. He methodically filled the body bag with the largest parts of the corpse, then scooped the remaining organs and pieces into the bag. When he was finished not a speck of the person remained on the ground. We gave him kudos as he slowly stood. His uniform was slick with gore and stank of death, but he appeared totally unfazed. We all praised him, “That was hardcore Ken.” he looked at us quizzically, genuinely taken aback. “No big deal.” he said.

There were stars here and there, dotting the sky among thin clouds, but no moon. Annemarie shivered, standing at the foot of the steps. “Come,” Mama murmured, and she moved away from the house. One by one the Rosens turned and hugged Annemarie silently. Ellen came to her last; the two girls held each other. “I’ll come back someday,” Ellen whispered fiercely. “I promise.” “I know you will,” Annemarie whispered back, holding her friend tightly. Then they were gone, Mama and the Rosens. Annemarie was alone. She went into the house, crying suddenly, and closed the door against the night. The lid of the casket was closed again. Now the room was empty; there was no sign of the people who had sat there for those hours. Annemarie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She opened the dark curtains and the windows; she curled once more in the rocker, trying to relax; she traced their route in her mind. She knew the old path, too—not as well as her mother, who had followed it almost every day of her childhood with her dog scampering behind. But Annemarie had often walked to town and back that way, and she remembered the turns, the twisted trees whose gnarled roots pushed the earth now and then into knotted clumps, and the thick bushes that often flowered in early summer. She walked with them in her mind, feeling the way through the darkness. It would take them, she thought, half an hour to reach the place where Uncle Henrik was waiting with his boat. Mama would leave them there—pausing a minute, no more, for a final hug—and then she would turn and come home. It would be faster for Mama alone, with no need to wait as the Rosens, unfamiliar with the path, slowly felt their way along. Mama would hurry, sure-footed now, back to her children.

What’s the meaning of this?” Papa strode toward us. “You’ve disturbed the entire household, Andrew.” Mama gripped his arm. “For goodness sake, Henry, don’t frighten the child. Haven’t you done enough damage? I told you not to whip him!” Papa made an effort to calm down. Taking a deep breath, he squatted in front of me. “What’s troubling you, son?” he asked. “Surely a spanking didn’t cause this.” Aching with sadness, I put my arms around his neck. I’d won, I’d finally beaten Andrew. I’d thought I’d be happy, but I wasn’t. “I don’t want to leave you and Mama,” I sobbed. Papa held me tight. “Now, now,” he said. “Where did you get such a silly notion? You aren’t going anywhere.” While Papa comforted me, Andrew climbed onto his father’s shoulders, piggyback style. No one saw him but me. No one heard him say, “Hush Drew, you’re shaming me in front of everyone.” Ignorant of Andrew’s presence, Papa shivered. “Fall’s coming. Feel the nip in the air?” Hannah and Theo were waiting for us at the bottom of the steps. “Mama,” Theo whispered, “is Andrew sick again?” Mama shook her head, but Theo looked unconvinced. Slipping his hand in Hannah’s, he watched Papa lay me on my bed. On the other side of the room, Andrew took a seat in the rocking chair. It was obvious he didn’t enjoy being invisible. Staring at Hannah and Theo, he rocked the chair vigorously. When that didn’t get their attention, he sang “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad” at the top of his lungs. But no matter what he said or did, he couldn’t make his sister or his brother see or hear him. I knew Andrew was sad, but I was even sadder. When Mama leaned over to kiss me, I hugged her so tight she could hardly breathe. “I’ll never forget you,” I whispered. Mama drew back. “What did you say?” “Nothing,” I mumbled. “I love you, Mama.” She smiled. “Well, for goodness sake, you little jackanapes, I love you too.” Smoothing the quilt over me, she turned to the others. “What Andrew needs is a good night’s sleep. In the morning, he’ll be himself again, just wait and see.” “I hope so,” Andrew said.

When Mama leaned over to kiss me, I hugged her so tight she could hardly breathe. “I’ll never forget you,” I whispered. Mama drew back. “What did you say?” “Nothing,” I mumbled. “I love you, Mama.” She smiled. “Well, for goodness sake, you little jackanapes, I love you too.” Smoothing the quilt over me, she turned to the others. “What Andrew needs is a good night’s sleep. In the morning, he’ll be himself again, just wait and see.” “I hope so,” Andrew said. Papa frowned. “No one will get any sleep, good or bad, with Buster making such a racket. I don’t know what ails that animal.” While we’d been talking, Andrew had gone to the window and whistled for the dog. Though the Tylers hadn’t heard the loud two-fingered blast, Buster definitely had. His howls made the hair on my neck prickle. Even Andrew looked frightened. He backed away from the window and sat quietly in the rocker. “Edward told me a dog howls when somebody in the family is about to die,” Theo said uneasily. Papa shook his head. “That’s superstitious nonsense, Theodore. Surely you know better than to believe someone as well known for mendacity as your cousin.” Muttering to himself, Papa left the room. Taking Theo with her, Mama followed, but Hannah lingered by the bed. I reached out and grabbed her hand. “Don’t leave yet,” I begged. “Stay a while.” Hannah hesitated for a moment, her face solemn, her eyes worried. “Mama’s right, Andrew,” she said softly. “You need to rest, you’ve overexcited yourself again. We’ve got all day tomorrow to sit in the tree and talk.” When Hannah reached up to turn off the gas jet, I glanced at Andrew. He was watching his sister from the rocker, his eyes fixed longingly on her face. A little wave of jealousy swept over me. He’d get to be with her for years, but all I had were a few more minutes. In the darkness, Hannah smiled down at me. “Close your eyes,” she said. “Go to sleep.” “But I’ll never see you again.” Hannah’s smile vanished. “Don’t talk nonsense,” she whispered. “You’ll see me tomorrow and every day after that.” In the corner, Andrew stared at his sister and rocked the chair harder. In the silent room I heard it creak, saw it move back and forth. Startled by the sound, Hannah glanced at the rocker and drew in her breath. Turning to me, she said, “Lord, the moon’s making me as fanciful as you. I thought I saw--” She shook her head. “I must need a good night’s sleep myself.” Kissing me lightly on the nose, Hannah left the room without looking at the rocking chair again.

Then he took my arm, in a much softer grip than the one he’d used on our first date when he’d kept me from biting the dust. “No, c’mon,” he said, pulling me closer to him and securing his arms around my waist. I died a thousand deaths as he whispered softly, “What’s wrong?” What could I possibly say? Oh, nothing, it’s just that I’ve been slowly breaking up with my boyfriend from California and I uninvited him to my brother’s wedding last week and I thought everything was fine and then he called last night after I got home from cooking you that Linguine and Clam Sauce you loved so much and he said he was flying here today and I told him not to because there really wasn’t anything else we could possibly talk about and I thought he understood and while I was driving out here just now he called me and it just so happens he’s at the airport right now but I decided not to go because I didn’t want to have a big emotional drama (you mean like the one you’re playing out in Marlboro Man’s kitchen right now?) and I’m finding myself vacillating between sadness over the end of our four-year relationship, regret over not going to see him in person, and confusion over how to feel about my upcoming move to Chicago. And where that will leave you and me, you big hunk of burning love. “I ran over my dog today!” I blubbered and collapsed into another heap of impossible-to-corral tears. Marlboro Man was embracing me tightly now, knowing full well that his arms were the only offering he had for me at that moment. My face was buried in his neck and I continued to laugh, belting out an occasional “I’m sorry” between my sobs, hoping in vain that the laughter would eventually prevail. I wanted to continue, to tell him about J, to give him the complete story behind my unexpected outburst. But “I ran over my dog” was all I could muster. It was the easiest thing to explain. Marlboro Man could understand that, wrap his brain around it. But the uninvited surfer newly-ex-boyfriend dangling at the airport? It was a little more information than I had the strength to share that night. He continued holding me in his kitchen until my chest stopped heaving and the wellspring of snot began to dry. I opened my eyes and found I was in a different country altogether, The Land of His Embrace. It was a peaceful, restful, safe place. Marlboro Man gave me one last comforting hug before our bodies finally separated, and he casually leaned against the counter. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better,” he said, “I’ve run over so many damn dogs out here, I can’t even begin to count them.” It was a much-needed--if unlikely--moment of perspective for me.

When I swung open the door, there he was: Marlboro Man, wearing Wranglers and a crisp white shirt and boots. And a sweet, heart-melting smile. What are you doing here? I thought. You’re supposed to be in the shower. You’re supposed to be with the sex kitten. “Hey,” he said, wasting no time in stepping through the door and winding his arms around my waist. My arms couldn’t help but drape over his strong shoulders; my lips couldn’t help but find his. He felt soft, warm, safe…and our first kiss turned into a third, and a sixth, and a seventh. It was the same kiss as the night before, when the phone call alerting him to the fire had come. My eyes remained tightly closed as I savored every second, trying to reconcile the present with the horror movie I’d imagined just moments earlier. I had no idea what was going on. At that point, I didn’t even care. “Ummmmm!!! I’m t-t-t-ttellin’!” Mike teased from the top of the stairs, just before running down and embracing Marlboro Man in a bear hug. “Hi, Mike,” Marlboro Man said, politely patting him on the back. “Mike?” I said, smiling and blinking my eyes. “Will you excuse us for a couple of minutes?” Mike obliged, giggling and oooo-ing as he walked toward the kitchen. Marlboro Man picked me up and brought my eyes to the level of his. Smiling, he said, “I’ve been trying to call you this afternoon.” “You have?” I said. I hadn’t even heard the phone ring. “I, um…I sort of took a nine-hour nap.” Marlboro Man chuckled. Oh, that chuckle. I needed it badly that night. He set my feet back down on the floor. “So…,” he teased. “You still cranky?” “Nope,” I finally answered, smiling. So, who is that woman in your house? So…what did you do all day? “Did you ever get any sleep?” So, who is that woman in your house? “Well,” he began. “I had to help Tim with something this morning, then I crashed on the couch for a few hours…it felt pretty good.” Who was the woman? What’s her name? What’s her cup size? He continued. “I would’ve slept all day, but Katie and her family showed up in the middle of my nap,” he said. “I forgot they were staying at my house tonight.” Katie. His cousin Katie. The one with the two young kids, who had probably just gone to bed when I’d called earlier. “Oh…really?” I said, my chest relaxing with a long, quiet exhale. “Yeah…but it’s a little crowded over there,” he said. “I thought I’d come over here and take you to a movie.” I smiled, stroking his back with my hand. “A movie sounds perfect.” The busty, bronze mystery girl slowly faded into oblivion. Mike came barreling out of the kitchen, where he’d been listening to every word. “Hey--if you guys are goin’ to the movie, c-c-c-can you drive me to the mall?” he yelled. “Sure, Mike,” Marlboro Man said. “We’ll drive you to the mall. It’ll cost you ten bucks, though.” And as the three of us made our way outside to Marlboro Man’s diesel pickup, I had to bite my lip to keep myself from articulating the only seven words in the English language that were in my vocabulary at that moment: God help me--I love that man.

We went to dinner that night and ordered steak and talked our usual dreamy talk, intentionally avoiding the larger, looming subject. When he brought me home, it was late, and the air was so perfect that I was unaware of the temperature. We stood outside my parents’ house, the same place we’d stood two weeks earlier, before the Linguine with Clam Sauce and J’s surprise visit; before the overcooked flank steak and my realization that I was hopelessly in love. The same place I’d almost wiped out on the sidewalk; the same place he’d kissed me for the first time and set my heart afire. Marlboro Man moved in for the kill. We stood there and kissed as if it was our last chance ever. Then we hugged tightly, burying our faces in each other’s necks. “What are you trying to do to me?” I asked rhetorically. He chuckled and touched his forehead to mine. “What do you mean?” Of course, I wasn’t able to answer. Marlboro Man took my hand. Then he took the reins. “So, what about Chicago?” I hugged him tighter. “Ugh,” I groaned. “I don’t know.” “Well…when are you going?” He hugged me tighter. “Are you going?” I hugged him even tighter, wondering how long we could keep this up and continue breathing. “I…I…ugh, I don’t know,” I said. Ms. Eloquence again. “I just don’t know.” He reached behind my head, cradling it in his hands. “Don’t…,” he whispered in my ear. He wasn’t beating around the bush. Don’t. What did that mean? How did this work? It was too early for plans, too early for promises. Way too early for a lasting commitment from either of us. Too early for anything but a plaintive, emotional appeal: Don’t. Don’t go. Don’t leave. Don’t let it end. Don’t move to Chicago. I didn’t know what to say. We’d been together every single day for the past two weeks. I’d fallen completely and unexpectedly in love with a cowboy. I’d ended a long-term relationship. I’d eaten beef. And I’d begun rethinking my months-long plans to move to Chicago. I was a little speechless. We kissed one more time, and when our lips finally parted, he said, softly, “Good night.” “Good night,” I answered as I opened the door and went inside. I walked into my bedroom, eyeing the mound of boxes and suitcases that sat by the door, and plopped down on my bed. Sleep eluded me that night. What if I just postponed my move to Chicago by, say, a month or so? Postponed, not canceled. A month surely wouldn’t hurt, would it? By then, I reasoned, I’d surely have him out of my system; I’d surely have gotten my fill. A month would give me all the time I needed to wrap up this whole silly business. I laughed out loud. Getting my fill of Marlboro Man? I couldn’t go five minutes after he dropped me off at night before smelling my shirt, searching for more of his scent. How much worse would my affliction be a month from now? Shaking my head in frustration, I stood up, walked to my closet, and began removing more clothes from their hangers. I folded sweaters and jackets and pajamas with one thing pulsating through my mind: no man--least of all some country bumpkin--was going to derail my move to the big city. And as I folded and placed each item in the open cardboard boxes by my door, I tried with all my might to beat back destiny with both hands. I had no idea how futile my efforts would be.

I’d known him just ten days, and it had just left his mouth in an unexpected whisper. It had been purely instinctive, it seemed--something entirely unplanned. He clearly hadn’t planned to say those words to me that night; that wasn’t the way he operated. He was a man who had a thought and acted on it immediately, as evidenced by his sweet, whispery phone calls right after our dates. He spent no time at all calculating moves; he had better things to do with his time. When we held each other on that chilly spring night and his feelings had come rushing to the surface, he’d felt no need to slap a filter over his mouth. It had come out in a breath: I love you. It was as if he had to say it, in the same way air has to escape a person’s longs. It was involuntary. Necessary. Natural. But as beautiful and warm a moment as it was, I froze on the spot. Once I realized it had been real--that he’d actually said the words--it seemed too late to respond; the window had closed, the shutters had clapped shut. I responded in the only way my cowardice would allow: by holding him tighter, burying my face deeper into his neck, feeling equal parts stupid and awkward. What is your problem? I asked myself. I was in the midst of what was possibly the most romantic, emotionally charged moment of my life, in the embrace of a man who embodied not only everything I’d ever understood about the textbook definition of lust, but everything I’d ever dreamed about in a man. He was a specimen--tall, strong, masculine, quiet. But it was much more than that. He was honest. Real. And affectionate and accessible, quite unlike J and most of the men I’d casually dated since I’d returned home from Los Angeles months earlier. I was in a foreign land. I didn’t know what to do. I love you. He’d said it. And I knew his words had been sincere. I knew, because I felt it, too, even though I couldn’t say it. Marlboro Man continued to hold me tightly on that patio chair, undeterred by my silence, likely resting easily in the knowledge that at least he’d been able to say what he felt. “I’d better go home,” I whispered, suddenly feeling pulled away by some imaginary force. Marlboro Man nodded, helping me to my feet. Holding hands, we walked around his house to my car, where we stopped for a final hug and a kiss or two. Or eight. “Thanks for having me over,” I managed. Man, I was smooth. “Any time,” he replied, locking his arms around my waist during the final kiss. This was the stuff that dreams were made of. I was glad my eyes were closed, because they were rolled all the way into the back of my head. It wouldn’t have been an attractive sight. He opened the door to my car, and I climbed inside. As I backed out of his driveway, he walked toward his front door and turned around, giving me his characteristic wave in his characteristic Wranglers. Driving away, I felt strange, flushed, tingly. Burdened. Confused. Tortured. Thirty minutes into my drive home, he called. I’d almost grown to need it. “Hey,” he said. His voice. Help me. “Oh, hi,” I replied, pretending to be surprised. Even though I wasn’t. “Hey, I…,” Marlboro Man began. “I really don’t want you to go.” I giggled. How cute. “Well…I’m already halfway home!” I replied, a playful lilt to my voice. A long pause followed. Then, his voice serious, he continued, “That’s not what I’m talking about.

Then he made the mistake of looking into her eyes and froze. Her expression was so open, so full of tenderness and longing as well as heat that he almost balked. This was supposed to be about closure, about having the goodbye they’d never gotten last time. How was he supposed to leave after if she gave herself to him this completely? Her hand came up to cradle the side of his face, her thumb stroking back and forth across his jaw, her touch gentle and loving. “Need you,” she murmured, It was good. Even better than he remembered. Liam buried his face in the side of her neck and sucked in a breath, struggling to hang on. Being cradled in Honor’s arms, buried to the hilt inside her while she opened her body and heart to him was the most incredible thing in the world. How the f*&^ was he going to walk away later? Without warning his eyes began to sting. As though she sensed how close he was to coming unglued, Honor murmured to him and pressed kisses to the side of his face, her hand urging his head to turn toward her. Liam shook his head, unable to bear that final level of intimacy when he knew this was their last time. Keeping his face in her neck he fought back the swell of emotion and began to move, a slow, shallow rocking motion that was more profound than words could ever be. He loved her. Would always love her, but it wasn’t enough because some things couldn’t be undone and he just couldn’t let her in the way he had before. All they had left was this bittersweet farewell, and he was going to make it memorable. .... A lump settled in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut, torn between the excruciating pleasure swelling inside him and the need to see her face as he took her this last time. In the end, his heart won out. Powerless to stop himself, he lifted his head and looked down at her. Anguish sliced through his chest when he saw the tears glistening in her beautiful eyes. Don’t. Don’t cry. Shit, he didn’t want either of them to hurt anymore. He was sick of hurting. That’s why he was ending it all tonight. With a low sound of regret he covered her mouth with his, his tongue sliding against hers as he took her. Honor kissed him back deep and slow... Cupping her cheek with his free hand he gave her everything he had left to give, allowing his emotional shields to drop for these final moments. She ran her fingertips up and down his back in a soothing motion, her body limp and pliant beneath his, legs still wrapped around him. And all of a sudden he felt like crying. He felt too much, was in too deep again. He didn’t know what to say to make this any easier. After what they’d just shared he was more conflicted than ever about what to do. “I’ll miss you,” she murmured, and he caught the slight catch in her voice. Ah, fu&%. He gritted his teeth. It would be so much easier if they could just hate each other. For a moment he considered saying something to make her do exactly that, but couldn’t. Even he wasn’t enough of an a**hole to end things that way. And that look on her face… Against his better judgment, Liam sat back down on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms. Honor went willingly into his embrace, pressing her face to his chest as she hugged him tight in return. “I’ll miss you too.” Dammit, he should never have come here tonight. “I wish it could be different, but I just… I can’t do this anymore.” I’ll always love you but I can’t afford to let you back in again. “I’m sorry.

Dear, What’s the Point of it All? What is the point of being nice? When you do not know what you are going to get from it? Knowing eventually sooner rather than later someone and maybe that person you are being nice to will turn their back on you. I always have to stay grounded and focused. When I am there for people, I feel like I am always punished for it. I am always treated as if I committed a crime. I was there for my mom; however, she was killing me slowly but surely. Like my mom, I noticed that when people get themselves in some shit, they get stuck in their own mess. They are confident that they do not have to deal with the consequences—because they know the ‘kind’ person will bail them out. What’s the point of being kind? Like my mom and the officer, there are so many people in the world who are judgmental and tainted because of their selfish needs. What’s the point of my life? Here I am in a library filled with many books. I can read them and go anywhere I want to in my mind, but after I close the book, I will have to snap out of my fantasy world and welcome the cruel cold world, which is reality. If I was a book, I would be better off left on the shelf. There is no excitement in my life—only struggles. What’s the point of living and loving life when the only thing I do is read between the lines and tread carefully? Come to think about it, I am a book that nobody can understand or read. They think they know what is best for me, but if they only take the time to listen, I would be so happy to tell them about me and my needs and wants. My actions scream for attention, but time after time, I am ignored. Sadly, without a care, they were quick to rip out the pages. Yet, once again, nobody noticed me. What’s the point of it all when I never had an opportunity to make a mistake? If I did one thing wrong, they would give up on me and send me to one home after another. I’ve always been fully exposed and had to walk in a line filled with sharp curves from disappointment to disappointment. Sorrow is my aura, and sadness hugs me tightly. It is hard to cry when my eyes are closed shut by the barbed wire fence of my eyelashes as they prohibit tears from falling. What’s the point of complicating my life? I am always back to where I started, and then ... I relive the same patterns, but on a more difficult journey. I believe when you put yourself in your own mess that you should clean it up and start over. What’s wrong with that? Nothing. However, when someone else puts you in their mess, you do not know how to clean up the mess they’ve made. You do not know how to start over because you do not know where to begin. I look at it this way; it is like telling a dead person he/she can start over. How so, when that person’s life no longer exists? I know my life isn’t over. However, I am lost in a maze my mom set up for herself—and she too is lost in her own maze. When a person gets lost in their own maze, they are really fucked up. However, this maze shouldn’t be left for me to figure out. Unfortunately, I am in it, and I have to find my way out one way or another. What’s the point of taking Kace from me? He was safe and in good hands. Now he is worse off with people who are abusing him. He didn’t ask for this—I didn’t either. He deserves so much better. Again, what is the point of it all? What’s the point of making me suffer? Do you get a kick out of it? What are you trying to accomplish? I am trying to understand; what is the point of it all? What is the point? I don’t know why I am here.

He removed his hand from his worn, pleasantly snug jeans…and it held something small. Holy Lord, I said to myself. What in the name of kingdom come is going on here? His face wore a sweet, sweet smile. I stood there completely frozen. “Um…what?” I asked. I could formulate no words but these. He didn’t respond immediately. Instead he took my left hand in his, opened up my fingers, and placed a diamond ring onto my palm, which was, by now, beginning to sweat. “I said,” he closed my hand tightly around the ring. “I want you to marry me.” He paused for a moment. “If you need time to think about it, I’ll understand.” His hands were still wrapped around my knuckles. He touched his forehead to mine, and the ligaments of my knees turned to spaghetti. Marry you? My mind raced a mile a minute. Ten miles a second. I had three million thoughts all at once, and my heart thumped wildly in my chest. Marry you? But then I’d have to cut my hair short. Married women have short hair, and they get it fixed at the beauty shop. Marry you? But then I’d have to make casseroles. Marry you? But then I’d have to wear yellow rubber gloves to do the dishes. Marry you? As in, move out to the country and actually live with you? In your house? In the country? But I…I…I don’t live in the country. I don’t know how. I can’t ride a horse. I’m scared of spiders. I forced myself to speak again. “Um…what?” I repeated, a touch of frantic urgency to my voice. “You heard me,” Marlboro Man said, still smiling. He knew this would catch me by surprise. Just then my brother Mike laid on the horn again. He leaned out of the window and yelled at the top of his lungs, “C’mon! I am gonna b-b-be late for lunch!” Mike didn’t like being late. Marlboro Man laughed. “Be right there, Mike!” I would have laughed, too, at the hilarious scene playing out before my eyes. A ring. A proposal. My developmentally disabled and highly impatient brother Mike, waiting for Marlboro Man to drive him to the mall. The horn of the diesel pickup. Normally, I would have laughed. But this time I was way, way too stunned. “I’d better go,” Marlboro Man said, leaning forward and kissing my cheek. I still grasped the diamond ring in my warm, sweaty hand. “I don’t want Mike to burst a blood vessel.” He laughed out loud, clearly enjoying it all. I tried to speak but couldn’t. I’d been rendered totally mute. Nothing could have prepared me for those ten minutes of my life. The last thing I remember, I’d awakened at eleven. Moments later, I was hiding in my bathroom, trying, in all my early-morning ugliness, to avoid being seen by Marlboro Man, who’d dropped by unexpectedly. Now I was standing on the front porch, a diamond ring in my hand. It was all completely surreal. Marlboro Man turned to leave. “You can give me your answer later,” he said, grinning, his Wranglers waving good-bye to me in the bright noonday sun. But then it all came flashing across my line of sight. The boots in the bar, the icy blue-green eyes, the starched shirt, the Wranglers…the first date, the long talks, my breakdown in his kitchen, the movies, the nights on his porch, the kisses, the long drives, the hugs…the all-encompassing, mind-numbing passion I felt. It played frame by frame in my mind in a steady stream. “Hey,” I said, walking toward him and effortlessly sliding the ring on my finger. I wrapped my arms around his neck as his arms, instinctively, wrapped around my waist and raised me off the ground in our all-too-familiar pose. “Yep,” I said effortlessly. He smiled and hugged me tightly. Mike, once again, laid on the horn, oblivious to what had just happened. Marlboro Man said nothing more. He simply kissed me, smiled, then drove my brother to the mall.

Hey,” a deep unfamiliar voice said from behind her. Every nerve went on alert. Her heart pounded with fear. Instinct told her to run, but how far could she go with him so close? She grabbed a knife from the butcher block beside her and spun around, hurting her sore feet but not really feeling the pain. “Stay where you are. Don’t come any closer.” Somewhere in her muddled mind he looked familiar, but the fear stole her rational thoughts. Her hands shook and she backed up into the counter, looking everywhere for an escape that seemed impossible. “Hey now, you’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” Tears filled her eyes. Too much to take in one night, she stammered, “Get out. Leave me alone.” The stranger took a step toward her, and she took one toward him. “Get out, or I’ll gut you where you stand.” One side of his mouth cocked up in a slanted grin. His eyes flashed with admiration, confusing her. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m looking for Owen.” “He doesn’t live here. Why does everyone think he lives here?” she yelled. A flash of movement came from her left; she swung to face the new danger and inhaled when Owen rushed her, pushing the knife out of his way and pulling her close. She immediately dropped it and grabbed hold of him as he kept his back to the stranger, her back to the counter, and his big body protecting her. “You’re okay, sweetheart. That’s my brother, Brody. He came to help me board up the glass door.” He hugged her closer when she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and held him tighter, crying all over the front of his shirt, her face buried in his chest, her bravado from a moment ago drained away, overwhelmed by her fear. Owen was here, holding her, keeping her safe. She needed him and refused to let go, even when he tried to back away. “Brody, man, you want to give us a minute.” “Sure. I just wanted to let her know I’m here. She’s got a lot of guts, facing off with me with that knife. I like her.” “Yeah, I like her, too.” Owen brushed his hand over her head and settled into her, holding her tight and close. Brody left with a chuckle and an “I bet you do.” All of a sudden she felt foolish, but it didn’t stop her from staying in Owen’s arms. She shifted on her feet, and he slid his big hands down her back to her waist, hoisting her up onto the counter. His warm hands settled on her thighs, spreading them wide so he could stand between them. Close. Intimate. Their eyes met, and he reached up and swiped his thumbs across both her cheeks, taking away the tears. She got hold of herself enough to say, “Your brother is huge.” “You just faced off with an ex– Army Ranger. He could take you out with one lethal smile.” “He wasn’t smiling.” “He doesn’t much, since he got home. Unless he’s with Rain." -Brody, Claire, & Owen

He felt of Emma’s forehead. “She’s still a mite warm.” He turned. “I’ll ride for Doc Foster.” At that moment, a peal of thunder cracked overhead. Emma jerked but didn’t waken. McKenna hastily soothed her back to sleep and caught Wyatt at the front door. Already in his duster again, she grabbed his arm. “She doesn’t need Dr. Foster, Wyatt. Her fever’s breaking.” He reached for the door, not seeming to hear her. She reached up and took his face in her hands. He stilled. “Emma’s going to be okay. Her fever’s breaking.” His face was a mixture of pain and fear, and suddenly his actions made more sense to her. “Did your Bethany die of fever?” she whispered, already seeing the answer in his eyes. “I can’t—” His voice caught. “I can’t lose another child that way.” She hugged him to her as tight as she could, wanting him to feel every part of her loving him. “You won’t. You won’t lose Emma.” He lifted her face to his, and McKenna met his kiss and returned it. “You’re sure she’s all right?” he said. McKenna nodded. “Yes, but . . .” She looked down and away. “I did something I shouldn’t have done.” “What? What did you do?” Shame poured through her. “Emma kept crying for Janie, asking for her mama.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t console her, her fever was high.” She closed her eyes. “I told her that . . . I was her mama. I know it was wrong. I don’t want her to forget Janie, it’s just that—” “You remember that night, McKenna,” he said, his voice soft, “when Janie asked you to take care of her?” She nodded. “I’ll never forget it.” “Janie asked you to take her . . . and make her your own. Those were her exact words.

She watched him cut through the barn to the well, and she felt Wyatt’s arms come around her from behind. “You were perfect, McKenna.” She leaned into him, mindful of Emma running straight for them. Chin Li nodded their way then averted his gaze. But McKenna saw the smile on his mouth. “Papa!” Wyatt caught Emma up and gave her a big hug. “How are you, little one?” Emma’s eyes sparkled. “Did you bring me anything?” “Now what makes you think I’d bring you anything?” She stuck her hand into his outer vest pocket, which earned a raised brow from Wyatt. So she immediately went for his inner pocket, and her grin widened. “Another doll!” she squealed. Wyatt tugged the red-yarned head of the rag doll. “I figured Clara needed a sister, since you’ll be getting either a new brother or sister yourself real soon.” Emma hugged his neck tight. “Thank you, Papa.” “Now,” he said, kissing her forehead and setting her down. “We’re going to have Uncle Robert’s welcome home dinner in just a minute, but first, I’d like for you to run on inside and show Chin Li and Mei your new doll while I kiss your mama good and proper. Think you can do that for me?” Grinning, Emma nodded and set off. McKenna was grinning too, until Wyatt pulled her close. Seeing the desire in his eyes sparked her own, and she slipped a hand beneath his vest to finger a button on his shirt. “I’ve missed you, Mr. Caradon.” No longer Marshal, and she was so thankful. His hand moved lower down her back, pressing her closer against him. He smiled. “I think I’ve warned you before, ma’am”—his gaze went from her eyes to her mouth—“about looking at a man that way when he can’t do anything about it.” Remembering the first day he’d said that to her, McKenna cradled the back of his neck and drew his face down to hers. “Then I suggest, sir, that you do something about it. Right quick.” And he did.

The end of this short story could be a rather disturbing thing, if it came true. I hope you like it, and if you do, be sure to COMMENT and SHARE. Paradoxes of Destiny? Dani! My boy! Are you all right? Where are you? Have you hurt yourself? Are you all right? Daniiii! Why won’t you answer? It’s so cold and dark here. I can’t see a thing… It’s so silent. Dani? Can you hear me? I shouldn’t have looked at that text message while I was driving… I shouldn’t have done it! I'm so stupid sometimes! Son, are you all right?... We really wrecked the car when we rolled it! I can’t see or hear a thing… Am I in hospital? Am I dead…? Dani? Your silence is killing me… Are you all right?! I can see a glimmer of light. I feel trapped. Dani, are you there? I can’t move. It’s like I’m wrapped in this mossy green translucent plastic. I have to get out of here. The light is getting more and more intense. I think I can tear the wrapping that’s holding me in. I'm almost out. The light is blinding me. What a strange place. I've never seen anything like it. It doesn’t look like Earth. Am I dead? On another planet? Oh God, look at those hideous monsters! They’re so creepy and disgusting! They look like extraterrestrials. They’re aliens! I'm on another planet! I can’t believe it. I need to get the hell out here. Those monsters are going to devour me. I have to get away. I’m so scared. Am I floating? Am I flying? I’m going to go higher to try to escape. I can’t see the aliens anymore and the landscape looks less terrifying. I think I've made it. It’s very windy. Is that a highway? I think I can see some vehicles down there. Could they be the extraterrestrials’ transport? I’m going to go down a bit. I see people! Am I on Earth? Could this be a parallel universe? Where could Dani be? I shouldn’t have looked at that text message while I was driving. I shouldn’t… That tower down there looks a lot like the water tank in my town… It’s identical. But the water tank in my town doesn’t have that huge tower block next to it. It all looks very similar to my neighborhood, but it isn’t exactly the same: there are a lot of tower blocks here. There’s the river… and the factory. It’s definitely my neighborhood, but it looks kind of different. I must be in a parallel universe… It’s amazing that I can float. People don’t seem to notice my presence. Am I a ghost? I have to get back home and see if Dani’s there. God, I hope he’s safe and sound. Gabriela must be out of her mind with the crash. There’s my house! Home sweet home. And whose are those cars? The front of the house has been painted a different color… This is all so strange! There’s someone in the garden… Those trees I planted in the spring have really grown. Is… is that… Dani? Yes, yes! It’s Dani. But he looks so different… He looks older, he looks… like a big boy! What’s important is that he’s OK. I need to hug him tight and tell him how much I love him. Can he see me if I’m a ghost? I'll go up to him slowly so I don’t scare him. I need to hold him tight. He can’t see me, I won’t get any closer. He moved his head, I think he’s started to realize I’m here… Wow I’m so hungry all of a sudden! I can’t stop! How are you doing, son?! It’s me! Your dad! My dear boy? I can’t stop! I'm too hungry! Ahhhh, so delicious! What a pleasure! Nooo Daniii! Nooooo!.... I’m your daaaad!... Splat!... “Mum, bring the insect repellent, the garden’s full of mosquitoes,” grunted Daniel as he wiped the blood from the palm of his hand on his trousers. Gabriela was just coming out. She did an about turn and went back into her house, and shouted “Darling, bring the insect repellent, it’s on the fireplace…” Absolute cold and silence… THE END (1) This note is for those who have read EQUINOX—WHISPERS OF DESTINY. This story is a spin-off of the novel EQUINOX—WHISPERS OF DESTINY and revolves around Letus’s curious theories about the possibility of animal reincarnation

That only made him feel guiltier. He hugged her tightly, hoping to ease her sorrow, not knowing what else to say.  He did not want to be the cause of her tears. After a few moments of rocking her gently, he pulled her back and wiped her cheeks with his fingers.     “No tears,” he kissed her forehead. “There is no need.

Fall asleep every night having fought everything that wants to make you mean as hard as you can, while hugging as tightly as you can everything that wants to make you as compassionate as you need to be happy.

Before she returned to London, she would go to Hampshire. She needed to see her family, especially her mother, who would surround her with inexhaustible warmth and vitality. Mama would hug her tightly, and demand to hear every detail, and send for a tray of sweets from the kitchen, and ask the butler to bring wine, and they would talk for hours.

Fall asleep every night having fought everything that wants to make you mean as hard as you can,
while hugging as tightly as you can
everything that wants to make you as compassionate as you need to be happy.

Iwalked home from the office and found Meg sitting on the stairs. She was sobbing. Uncontrollably. My love, what’s happened? I thought for sure we’d lost the baby. I went to her on my knees. She choked out that she didn’t want to do this anymore. Do what? Live. I didn’t catch her meaning at first. I didn’t understand, maybe didn’t want to understand. My mind just didn’t want to process the words. It’s all so painful, she was saying. What is? To be hated like this—for what? What had she done? she asked. She really wanted to know. What sin had she committed to deserve this kind of treatment? She just wanted to make the pain stop, she said. Not only for her, for everyone. For me, for her mother. But she couldn’t make it stop, so she’d decided to disappear. Disappear? Without her, she said, all the press would go away, and then I wouldn’t have to live like this. Our unborn child would never have to live like this. It’s so clear, she kept saying, it’s so clear. Just stop breathing. Stop being. This exists because I exist. I begged her not to talk like that. I promised her we’d get through it, we’d find a way. In the meantime, we’d find her the help she needed. I asked her to be strong, hang on. Incredibly, while reassuring her, and hugging her, I couldn’t entirely stop thinking like a fucking royal. We had a Sentebale engagement that night, at the Royal Albert Hall, and I kept telling myself: We can’t be late. We cannot be late. They’ll skin us alive! And they’ll blame her. Slowly—too slowly—I realized that tardiness was the least of our problems. I said she should skip the engagement, of course. I needed to go, make a quick appearance, but I’d be home fast. No, she insisted, she didn’t trust herself to be at home alone for even an hour with such dark feelings. So we put on our best kit, and she applied dark, dark lipstick to draw attention away from her bloodshot eyes, and out of the door we went. The car pulled up outside the Royal Albert Hall, and as we stepped into the blue flashing lights of the police escort and the whiteout lights of the press’s flashbulbs, Meg reached for my hand. She gripped it tightly. As we went inside, she gripped it even tighter. I was buoyed by the tightness of that grip. She’s hanging on, I thought. Better than letting go. But when we settled into the royal box, and the lights dimmed, she let go of her emotions. She couldn’t hold back the tears. She wept silently. The music struck up, we turned and faced the front. We spent the entire length of the performance (Cirque du Soleil) squeezing each other’s hands, me promising her in a whisper: Trust me. I’ll keep you safe.

I think, as this war goes on, we will all have to look more deeply. These questions are not about them, but about us.” Vianne felt tears sting her eyes. “I don’t know what to do anymore. Antoine always took care of everything. The Wehrmacht and the Gestapo are more than I can handle.” “Don’t think about who they are. Think about who you are and what sacrifices you can live with and what will break you.” “It’s all breaking me. I need to be more like Isabelle. She is so certain of everything. This war is black and white for her. Nothing seems to scare her.” “Isabelle will have her crisis of faith in this, too. As will we all. I have been here before, in the Great War. I know the hardships are just beginning. You must stay strong.” “By believing in God.” “Yes, of course, but not only by believing in God. Prayers and faith will not be enough, I’m afraid. The path of righteousness is often dangerous. Get ready, Vianne. This is only your first test. Learn from it.” Mother leaned forward and hugged Vianne again. Vianne held on tightly, her face pressed to the scratchy wool habit.

Stuck on "on": how to manage a Sympathetic response 1. Say to yourself, "I am having trauma response. This is a physiological process. I'm not crazy." 2. Make a list of people, places, and things that you love. Notice how your body feels as you think about hugging your best friend, sitting on a beach, or curling up with your favorite book. 3. Use your senses. Weighted blankets. Essential oils. Soft music. Warm tea. These can all help your nervous system come back down. 4. Count backward from the number 31. 5. Notice 5 things you can see, 4 things you can hear, 3 things you can touch, and 1 thing you can taste. 6. Push as hard as you can against a door or a wall. Notice your muscles firing. Step back, take a break. Repeat three times. 7. Do simple math problems in your head. Simple thinking tasks will help your brain reorientate itself. 8. Name the sensations inside your body. Say to yourself out loud, "I feel tension in my neck. I feel tightness in my stomach. I feel he at in my face." Then look for one place in your body where you feel neutral or calm. Most people can access neutral by noticing random areas like their left knee cap or right ring finger. Focus your attention first on the neutral area, then on the tense area, then on the neutral area. Do this for four minutes. 9. Don't ask why you feel panic. Do ask who or what will help you feel safe. 10. If you have a dog or a cat, gently put your hand on their heart and count their heartbeat for three minutes. Stuck on "off": how to manage a high tone dorsal vagal state. 1. Remind yourself that you are not lazy or unmotivated. Tell yourself, "I am having a trauma response. This is a thing. I am not crazy." 2. Get cold. Splash ice-cold water on your face. Hold ice cubes in your hand. Put an ice pack on your neck. Or jump into the coldest possible shower you can stand. 3. Hum or sing. There's a reason people have changed "Ommm" since the 6th century. 4. Social connection is powerful medicine. Connect with a human over the phone: good. Over video chat: better: In person: best. 5. Don't ask why you're feeling frozen. Do ask who or what might help you feel safer. 6. Don't use hyperbolic exaggerated language like "I feel buried" or "I'm drowning." This language reinforces the stress response. Instead, get really specific." I need to call my son's teacher, pick up my prescription and finish a proposal for work." Write down the specific tasks. This will help your brain click back into solution mode. 7. Suck on a lemon. This sounds weird, but it can help suck your brain out of shutdown mode. 8. Open and close your mouth. Then move your head. Then stretch your arms and legs. 9. Grab both ends of a blanket and wring it out as you would if it was soaking wet. Notice your muscles firing as you do this. Take a break. Repeat three times. 10. If you have a safe and willing friend or partner, make eye contact with them for 2-3 minutes. It's super awkward, but you will get a bonus dose of energy if you both end up laughing.

He knew how often I needed to travel to be sane, what my favorite places were, which seat I would choose in a restaurant, which songs I listened to depending on my mood, how I looked when I was hungry, how much sugar I would like in my coffee, what hurt me and what would fix it, when I craved a hug and how tight should that be, how to make out my mood from my voice and how fast my heart would beat if I was asked to address a gathering of five hundred people.

Hang on,” Darcy spoke over me and my fingers itched with the urge to punish her for that. If she’d done so in my classroom, I would have made her pay severely for it. As it was, I supposed I could be lenient this once. She’d soon learn I was not to be fucked with anyway. Of course, then my treacherous mind ran to the dangerous place where my punishments involved me pushing her down on my desk and spanking her ass raw, and I cursed myself internally. What the fuck’s the matter with me? ... “Yes. But not just any school. The best school.” It really was the fucking best. “So what do you say?” “I say you're crazy,” Darcy said and I had a vision of showing her just how crazy I could be. Not an appropriate one though. The kind where she was pinned beneath me gasping my name. Focus. ... A beat later, Darcy returned from the bathroom in tight jeans which clung to her round ass and a black tank top that hugged the hourglass curves of her body. Ah, great. Why couldn’t she have been covered in Heptian Toad skin? For some reason, her twin of the exact same figure hadn’t stirred anything in me, but this one had my cock throbbing and my mind spinning with filthy fantasies I could never, ever act on. You fucking idiot. ... I grabbed her shoulders, jerking her around to face the circle of new students in The Howling Meadow ready for their Awakening as my heart thrashed and rioted in my chest. Darcy stepped away from me and my fingers balled and unballed as I stared after her, a growl rolling low through my throat as I worked to fight against the thirst, and the other, hungry part of me which had awoken. Darcy glanced back at me in alarm. “What's going on?” she asked, her green eyes dancing with panic. I guessed this really was a mindfuck. “Did you just drug us?” Tory rounded on me. “What is it with you and drugs?” I muttered. “Remember to keep calm,” I commanded, needing them to get through this without making a complete scene. I had to know what Elements they possessed. Lionel would be waiting for me to call and give him a play by play of everything that had happened tonight, everything I’d learned about the Vegas. But there was one thing for sure I wouldn’t tell even Darius about this night. That I felt a pull to one of them that defied all logic and made my hatred for them deepen. Because of all the concerns I’d had about the Vega twins returning to Solaria, none of my imaginings had conjured up this. Maybe it was the power of their blood that called to me, but as it was only Darcy who had made me fucking burn with unwanted need, I doubted I could put it down to that. One thing was for sure, I’d be cutting these twisted urges out of me just as soon as I could. And they were not going to affect anything about what came next. Because the Vega twins would not be ascending to the throne. It was my duty to make sure of that. And no girl with blue-tipped hair in bunny pyjamas was going to fuck with my plans.(Lance Orion POV)

The man turned around, looked at her. And there was his face, his wonderful, beautiful Joc-face. He recognized her – she saw it in his eyes. She didn’t stop running until she crashed against him, throwing him back a step. Her face mashed into his chest and she felt his arms enfold her. Her heart throbbed with pain so fierce, her teeth were bared and clenched. “Joc!” She growled the word savagely. Her hands, clutching the back of his tunic, trembled. “Joc, you rotten old MUDSUCKER!” She pushed him off and began beating her fists against him, cursing, calling him every nasty name she could think of. Joc didn’t protest. His blue eyes watched her, painfully sad. “I know, Love,” he said. “I know.” “I hate you!” Heidel sobbed, hugging him harder. He looked exactly the same. The round face, the heavy cheeks, the untidy eyebrows, the thinning hair, sandy brown, the smile creases around his eyes. Joc. Her Joc. “You go ahead. You hate me all you want.” Joc held her so tightly Heidel couldn’t breathe and didn’t want to. His voice, the feel of him, the smell, made her feel as if he’d never gone, yet brought the pain of his absence roaring to the surface. She squished her eyes tight while his course thumb stroked her cheek. “Joc.” She couldn’t stop saying his name. “Joc... why did you leave us?” His chest rose and fell beneath her, a heavy sigh. “We need to get off the trail.

His muscles slacken and I raise my other arm to make a circle round him and hug him tightly to me, this broken man, holding him as he shudders and sobs, the same way I held my girl when she needed me, when she crawled on my lap all those years ago and pressed her face in my neck, the same way I would like to be held someday, if there is ever anyone to love me again. I had so much love, once. So much, I bathed in it. I thought I knew how lucky I was, but when it’s engulfing you, you can’t see it. You breathe it in, swallow it every day and become accustomed. You can’t stand back and see it for what it is: extraordinary and priceless – and fragile, too.

It's stiff, the fabric hugging my hips, making it impossible to move freely. "Go on." It's Kai's taunting voice I hear behind me. "Ask for my help, Gray." I roll my eyes at the wall in front of me. "Stubborn, remember?" I hear Kitt's chuckle before I feel hands brushing my legs. Startled, I look down, eyes landing on a bent head of messy black waves. Kai is gripping the bottom seam of my dress, his eyes flicking up to mine. "May I?" His voice is soft, tone amused. I swallow, roll my eyes once again, and nod against my better judgment. And then he's ripping my dress. He tears the fabric easily, creating a slit up the side of my thigh, freeing me from the tight confines of the fabric. His rough fingers briefly brush my skin as he says, "I am more than willing to rip your dresses for you, Gray. To help, of course." Kitt snorts while Kai smirks. "You only need to ask." "Why ask when you're so eager to offer?" Kai's laughter follows me as I finally pull myself up, arms burning with the strain.

And because life knew I needed confrontation, Briana’s laughter rang out through the thin walls, followed by Scott’s. “I don’t like when she comes here,” Lucy whispered as she hugged me tighter. I staggered but held her tight, blood rushing up my neck and face. Young love turned old and wrinkly. My one and only. My faith all but crashed and burned. Life chewed up my ideas and spat them out. Oh, Hadley. What a freaking idiot you were.

But when my ex opens the door, her somber expression and baggy sweats do not suggest we’re about to roll around naked. Nor does the toddler asleep on the bed behind her. I’m frozen as Janelle wraps her arms around me in a hug. “I’ve missed you,” she coos in a baby voice. I would not consider myself the paragon of virtue, but there’s no way I’m doing kinky shit with my ex while a kid sleeps a few feet away. I’ve never seen her baby before. When I found out Janelle’s new guy had knocked her up, I did my best to eradicate thoughts of her from my life. It was too painful to see her move on when she’d promised me that future. I only vaguely inquire about her through my cousin Bianca when I plan trips home so I can avoid my ex. As I take a good long look at the sleeping bundle, I stop breathing. Ernest has blond hair. And Janelle has light brown. My eyes are lasered on the kid, who has thick, black hair. Much like mine. Sweat breaks out on my body, and a giant lump forms in my throat. I cough. “What the fuck is going on?” Janelle wrings her hands, tears forming in her eyes. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Why I needed to do this in person. It’s long overdue.” But like all truly messed-up things in my life, I know the answer to my question before the words are out of her mouth. “She’s yours, Ben.” 3 BEN A suffocating, twisting blackness spreads through me as I stare at this woman I once loved.

Knew that I loved you. Always you.” He brings me in for a tight hug. It starts trickling rain as I look up at him. He’s crying, but his smile is endearing. “I love you too. You know that.” I glance back at Liam, who is still walking ahead and getting further away from us. “Come on, we need to catch up or we’ll get left behind.” Lanston shakes his head. “Not this time, baby. Go on ahead without me. I’ll see you two later.

Wait,” I said grasping his wrist and pulling him back into a hug. His entire body tensed, but I held him tightly to me anyway, resting my head on his chest and hoping that he’d calm down a little bit. After a couple moments, João rested his arms around my shoulders and pulled me even closer. “What’s this for?” he whispered. “Because you needed it.

The regulation of my sexuality was continually enacted through these coded silencing methods. When I was fifteen, Brokeback Mountain was released in cinemas, and I knew I had to do whatever was necessary to see it. Once the trailer was released, I used every opportunity I had on the Internet to watch it. I gorged myself on it, memorised its every little detail, with one deeply tender moment in the trailer that I would turn to whenever I needed comfort. After four years of separation, the men arrange to meet up, and when they’re reunited, they greet each other with a hug so tight it’s as though they’re fusing into each other. I was desperate to feel an embrace like this, one so driven by love and desire that it would cause me to melt into my partner; I often lay in bed replaying this embrace in my head, imagining that the hug was so tight that it caused both men’s skin to peel off, so that they were two fleshy bodies merging into one complete whole, free from gender, race, or identity. To this day, every now and then when I feel particularly connected during sex, I imagine that this faceless merge might ensue. My teenage years were deeply lonely, and this image provided much comfort for me – as if love could diffuse the boundaries between people, so that we were each of us not separated by our own lonely bodies.

I know you think you can’t, but you can move on in that area of your life too. In fact, you should. Chase wouldn’t want you to raise the baby and live your life alone.” “I won’t be alone,” I countered, “I’ll have you guys.” “You will have us, always, but don’t shut love out of your life. Chase would want you to have a husband, he would want the baby to have a father.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “But isn’t this too soon? I’m so confused, it’s like when I was fighting my feelings for Chase when I was dating Brandon, only now I feel like I’m acting as if Chase didn’t matter to me by even considering anything with Brandon.” “For a lot of people, two months is too soon. But your situation is entirely different because of what happened between the three of you before. So that doesn’t exactly apply to you and Brandon now. If you’re worried about us Harper, don’t. We all want for you to be happy, and we agree Brandon makes you happy. We wouldn’t have called him to help you out of your mourning if we were afraid you would eventually go back to him. “If you want to do this on your own, then you should. But, if you want to be with him, don’t miss your chance with him again. He’s good for you, and though he has every right to be bitter about your baby, he already loves him more than we could ever hope a man in your life would.” She paused for a minute and leaned back in her chair, “I know what Chase thought of him, and I promise he would be happy with your choice. He knew Brandon could take care of, and love you, better than anyone. That’s why he didn’t interfere with your relationship for so long.” We sat in silence a few minutes while I let that sink in. It’s like she knew exactly what I needed to hear, to know the family wouldn’t judge me, and most importantly, for someone to tell me Chase would want me to be happy and move on too. Claire leaned over and hugged me tight before speaking again, “I think the real question is, how did you feel after you kissed him?” “Like I could finally breathe again.” I answered honestly. “I still love him Mom.” “I know you do, sweetie.” “Is

I started to climb off the bed, but Brandon wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back down. Bree snickered and walked out the door. After it was shut, Brandon pulled me closer to him. “You’re leaving?” He asked softly, his fingers trailing down my arm. “Yeah, I have to go back to my dorm.” “You don’t have to. I want you here with me.” My first thought was of Chase and what he would think about that. I scolded myself and shook my head, “I can’t, we’re not rushing, remember?” He grumbled halfheartedly and squeezed me tighter, “If I knew you were going to leave at the end of today I would have clarified what we weren’t going to rush.” I giggled against his jaw and continued on with a trail of kisses. “I know what you meant. But I can’t stay here.” Lord knows I would love to wake up to his handsome face every day. But like he said, we just met and I’ve only been out of Sir’s house for a little over two weeks. If that’s not the definition of rushing, I don’t know what is. “Weekends?” “What about them?” I asked against his neck. “Will you stay with me on the weekends? You’ll probably be here anyway.” I sat up and looked down at his breathtaking face, “You really want me here? You’re not going to get tired of me being around?” “Seriously Harper? I told you I wanted to keep you here. You’re right though, you do need to stay at the dorm with Bree. So if I have to ‘share’ you with her, then I plan on using this sharing to my advantage so I get you too.” I rolled my eyes and pushed against his chest playfully, “Okay fine. How about this? Unless something comes up, I will stay here with you on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays.” A huge smile showing off his perfect teeth and dimple spread across his face as he brought his mouth to mine, “That sounds perfect.” He spoke around our kisses. “I feel like I’m the kid of a divorced couple.” I grumbled and he laughed. We kissed a few moments longer until we heard Bree complaining from the hallway. Brandon hugged me tight to his chest at his door and planted a quick kiss on my forehead, “I’ll see you at school, have a good night sweetheart.” The

You’re a wonder, Kerry McCrae,” he said, dipping his head, kissing each warm cheek, her nose, then her mouth. The first kisses were sweet, the last one utterly carnal. He did that to her. Made her feel cherished one moment and utterly desirable the next. She might have been breathing just a bit unevenly when he lifted his head, a gleam of an entirely different sort in his eyes now. “I’d ask when I could see you again, but I suppose I need to let Fergus have at least a bit of your time. And I don’t want to press.” She barked out a short laugh at that. “You? Press? No,” she said in mock surprise. He chuckled, too, his grin not remotely sheepish, then leaned down to scoop up hamper and cooler, leaving the lighter laundry bundle for her to grab. They stopped at his car first, stowing his load in the trunk. “I’m happy to take the laundry,” he said. “I’m sure I can find somewhere to--” “No, I’ll take care of it,” she said, maybe too quickly, just imagining Delia and Grace’s faces when he asked them where he could find a good Laundromat. The gossip mill would get all this juicy new grist soon enough but no need to willingly feed it. “Well, I’ll be happy to return them to Thomas, spare you the trip.” “The walk of shame, you mean?” she said, then laughed as they paused by the passenger’s side of her truck so she could stow the laundry bundle on the front seat. “Actually, I plan to get them washed and back on the boat before he comes to move it tomorrow.” Cooper considered that, then nodded. “Sound plan.” He smiled. “Need a ride? Maybe a sunrise breakfast?” Smiling, she nudged him as they walked around to the driver’s side. “Look at you, making it a whole five minutes before pressing.” She wiped a pretend tear from the corner of her eye. “I’m so proud.” Chuckling, he snatched her up close to him and kissed her senseless before she knew what was happening, turning her squeal of surprise into a soft moan of need in a matter of seconds. “You forget,” he said moments later, his voice a bit gruff, too, “I know how to handle that saucy lip of yours now.” “I should be so affronted by your smug machismo,” she scolded, then let him pull her in for a nice, tight hug as she rested her cheek on his shoulder. “And yet…” She sighed, smiled, and slid her arms around his waist. “And yet indeed,” he said quietly, rubbing her back. “We’re a pair, we are, Starfish.

I will if you give me a little kiss.” Furi grinned. He was tipsy and horny now. Tequila does that to a man. “Get the fuck outta here.” Doug laughed and pulled on Furi’s hair. “Just because you have long, soft hair and I’ve had a little to drink, doesn’t mean I’m gonna mistake you for a woman.” “Don’t want you too. Come on. One little kiss,” Furi moaned. “Fine. But only because I feel sorry for you. Make it quick.” Doug laughed. Furi’s head was still resting on Doug’s broad shoulder when he brought his hand up and put it around Doug’s neck to pull him to him. Doug’s smile faded and he looked very serious, Furi thought he was getting mad, but that wasn’t the case at all. Doug closed the distance and pressed his soft lips to Furi's. Both of them gasped in surprise at the initial contact. There was no tongue wrestling or groping. Just his friend giving him a little comfort and some much needed affection. Furi hadn’t been with anyone since he left his husband last year. That’s a long time to go without any sexual contact or the comforting touch of a lover. Furi felt Doug’s strong hand thread through his hair, making him lean back into the touch. His eyes fell closed when he felt Doug place a soft kiss against his throat. But what Doug did next brought tears to Furi’s eyes. Doug wrapped him in his muscled arms and hugged him tight, whispering on the shell of his ear that he’d be okay, that he’d protect him no matter what. It was exactly what Furi needed.

Genesis put his hand over Curtis’. Curtis turned his hand over and linked their fingers together and they stayed that way for a while. Neither one talking, just exchanging long glances and endearing smiles. He couldn’t explain it, because although he was still slightly star struck that Genesis “G-Man” Godfrey was sitting here beside him, casually talking with him about their lives. He was quickly turning into just Genesis to him. “Will you kiss me?” Curtis whispered softly. “I’d love nothing more,” Genesis answered sweetly. They met together in the softest, most gentle touching of their mouths. Genesis cupped his jaw, lightly caressing his smooth cheek with his thumb, as held him place. Curtis slanted his head but Genesis was a gentleman. He didn’t take it too much further. He brushed his lips back and forth over his and Curtis thought he felt a quick flick of a moist tongue, but it was gone too fast to be sure. When they pulled back, Genesis stared into his eyes, like he was looking for something. And Curtis recognized the minute Genesis found it. His mouth curved into a charming smile and he pulled Curtis into a tight hug. A hug you could feel deep down in your core. It was what he’d needed, it was what he wanted, and at this moment he truly appreciated Genesis for it. “Curtis!

A noise woke me in the middle of the night.  When I opened my eyes, I found Rose beside the bed and sat up with a gasp.  Panic flooded me while Alec remained undisturbed in his slumber. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “I’m here to thank you, Benella,” she said, surprising and confusing me.  “And to say good-bye.  What I set out to do has been done.  Alec has found purpose and love.  I only hope that someday you’ll forgive me for the lies and manipulations I used to bring you two together.” “You’re leaving?”  I didn’t trust that I’d understood her correctly. She smiled at me. “Yes.  As I promised.  I was only waiting for you to see the truth.  A truth I saw within you so long ago when your family first came to this area.  The possibility of love—for him.” “What do you mean when we first came here?  I didn’t meet you until we moved to the Water.” She studied me for a moment before answering. “I’ve watched over the North for a long time.  I knew of you as soon as you entered its boundaries.  I’ve watched you since you were young, observed how you overcame each trial life gave you.  You are intelligent, determined, courageous, and kind.  And I knew once I sent you to the beast, you would find a way to free him.  Yet, I worried for you.  Your strength was also your weakness.  You were too kind.  Too willing to sacrifice yourself for those you cared for.  I helped you as much as I could while still keeping both of you unaware.  Alec had so much to learn; you had so much to teach him. “Hold fast to your love for one another, and this life will not disappoint you.  You will balance each other well.” She turned to go. “Wait,” I said, believing she really meant it.  Though I still resented the way I’d been used, I also realized, without her manipulations, I wouldn’t have met Alec. She stopped and looked back at me. I slipped from the bed, unconcerned with my nakedness and crossed the room. “I already forgive you.  Thank you for sending me here, for bringing me him.” Rose surprised me by sniffling. “I wanted to spare you but not as much as I wanted you to truly find happiness.”  She hugged me tightly. “You don’t need to leave.” “I

Do you have your keys?” Kerry abruptly asked. Hannah looked surprised, then alarmed. “Kerry, don’t go and do--” “I just need to take a drive. Clear my head. Think. Cooper is in his element here and likely will be for a good long while. If he asks--” “If?” Hannah said, lawyering up again, clearly not on board with Kerry’s sudden wild hare. “If he asks,” Kerry repeated evenly, “tell him I’ve gone for a drive and will be back for dinner.” She looked Hannah square in the eyes. “I promise. I just need some space. I have a lot to think about.” “It doesn’t all need thinking out today,” Hannah reminded her. “If I don’t get a handle on it now, it’s only going to pile on and be that much more complicated and confusing. I don’t want to get pushed or overwhelmed and do something I’ll regret.” She took the keys Hannah begrudgingly handed her. “Thank you. I won’t put a scratch on her, I swear.” “It’s not her getting banged up I’m worried about,” Hannah said. Kerry impulsively pulled her sister in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For loving me despite what a confusing pain in the ass I can be.” Hannah hugged her back, then let her go. “I do love you,” she said to Kerry’s retreating back. “But if you’re not here by dinner, I’m going to tell Cooper to run, run fast.” Kerry tossed a smile over her shoulder. “Good luck with that. I already tried.

Delores points at me. And now she looks pissed. “That, I believe. Fucking prick.” She holds her hands up. “But it’s okay. Don’t panic. I’ll take care of everything. We have this new fuel at the lab that’s ready for animal testing. He won’t know what hit him—I can slip it right through the vents.” She turns to Billy. “You’re in charge of the garden hose and duct tape.” Then she looks at me. “I’ll need your keys and security code.” I shake my head. “Delores, you can’t gas Drew to death.” “It might not kill him. If I had to guess, I’d say the odds for survival are fifty-fifty.” “Delores . . .” “Okay, thirty-seventy. But still, that gives us plausible deniability.” My mother and George walk into the room, interrupting the diabolical plan. My mom hugs Dee Dee tight. “Hi, honey! It’s so good to see you. Are you hungry?” “Starved.” She looks at George. “Hey George, how they hanging?” I think George Reinhart is a little afraid of Delores. Maybe more than a little. He adjusts his glasses. “They’re . . . hanging well . . . thank you.

paces. ‘She can’t do that.’ ‘She can and she is. She’s renting a cottage. I don’t know how long for.’ She takes hold of my wrist and grips it so tightly that her nails pierce my skin. ‘I have to stop her.’ ‘Monica! You need to keep this in perspective!’ I extract my wrist from her fingers and shake her gently. ‘I know she brings back memories of your parents and I know that hurts, but now, in the present, you have nothing to fear from Orla.’ Her eyes say otherwise and as she looks into mine I see that she is close to telling me something. ‘What is it, Monica? What is it?’ My scalp tingles. ‘Is it about Rose?’ Her eyes glaze over. ‘I was warned about this. I was warned—’ ‘What are you talking about? Warned by whom?’ ‘Grace!’ she hisses. ‘Do you have any idea how much damage she could do?’ I give a short laugh, not because it’s funny but because I have to let some emotion out. ‘The status quo should never be underestimated. Life, ticking along. It might seem boring at times but . . .’ She looks up to the right and seems to pluck her words from the air. ‘Orla is dangerous. She will cause havoc and then she will leave. We have to stop her.’ ‘Believe me, I don’t want her around either.’ I take her hand. ‘Tell me what’s troubling you.’ ‘I can’t.’ She pulls free. ‘I can’t break a confidence.’ She takes a few steps backward. ‘Can you find out what Orla wants? Can you do that?’ I already have. ‘I’ll do my best.’ I try to look optimistic. ‘I’ll let you know.’ ‘Good.’ She recovers her composure and gives me an awkward hug. ‘I may not have been popular at school, my home life was in meltdown, but hey!’ She looks around her, takes

The New England wilderness March 1, 1704 Temperature 10 degrees She had no choice but to go to him. She set Daniel down. Perhaps they would spare Daniel. Perhaps only she was to be burned. She forced herself to keep her chin up, her eyes steady and her steps even. How could she be afraid of going where her five-year-old brother had gone first? O Tommy, she thought, rest in the Lord. Perhaps you are with Mother now. Perhaps I will see you in a moment. She did not want to die. Her footsteps crunched on the snow. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. The Indian handed Mercy a slab of cornmeal bread, and then beckoned to Daniel, who cried, “Oh, good, I’m so hungry!” and came running, his happy little face tilted in a smile at the Indian who fed him. “Mercy said we’d eat later,” Daniel confided in the Indian. The English trembled in their relief and the French laughed. The Indian knelt beside Daniel, tossing aside Tommy’s jacket and dressing Daniel in warm clean clothing from another child. Nobody in Deerfield owned many clothes, and if she permitted herself to think about it, Mercy would know whose trousers and shirt these were, but she did not want to think about what dead child did not need clothes, so she said to the Indian, “Who are you? What’s your name?” He understood. Putting the palm of his hand against his chest, he said, “Tannhahorens.” She could just barely separate the syllables. It sounded more like a duck quacking than a real word. “Tannhahorens,” he said again, and she repeated it after him. She wondered what it meant. Indian names had to make a picture. She smiled carefully at the man she had thought was going to burn her alive as an example and said, “I’ll be right back, Tannhahorens.” She took a few steps away, and when he did nothing, she ran to her family. Her uncle swept her into his arms. How wonderful his scratchy beard felt! How strong and comforting his hug! “My brave girl,” he whispered, kissing her hair. “Mercy, they won’t let me help you.” In a voice as childish and puzzled as Daniel’s, he added, “They won’t let me help your aunt Mary, or Will and Little Mary either. I tried to help your brothers and got whipped for it.” He stammered: Uncle Nathaniel, whose reading choices from the Bible were always about war, and whose voice made every battle exciting. He needed her comfort as much as she needed his. “Uncle Nathaniel,” she said, “if I had done better, Tommy and Marah--” “Hush,” said her uncle. “The Lord set a task before you and you obeyed. Daniel is your task. Say your prayers as you march.” In a tight little pack behind Uncle Nathaniel stood her three living brothers. How small and cold they looked. Sam lifted his chin to encourage his sister and said, “At least we’re together. Do the best you can, Mercy. So will we.” They stared at each other, the two closest in age, and Mercy thought how proud their mother would be of Sam. “Mercy,” cried her brother John, panicking, “you have to go! Go fast,” he said urgently. “Your Indian is pointing at you.” Tannhahorens was watching her but not signaling. He isn’t angry, thought Mercy. I don’t have to be afraid, but I do have to return. “Find out your Indian’s name,” she said to her brothers. “It helps. Call him by name.” She took the time to hug and kiss each brother. How narrow their little shoulders; how thin the cloth that must keep them from freezing. She had to go before she wept. Indians did not care for crying. “Be strong, Uncle Nathaniel,” she said, touching the strange collar around his neck. “Don’t tug it,” he said wryly. “It’s lined with porcupine quill tips. If I don’t move at the right speed, the Indians give my leash a twitch and the needles jab my throat.” The boys laughed, pantomiming a hard jerk on the cord, and Mercy said, “You’re all just as mean as you ever were!” “And alive,” said Sam. When they hugged once more, she felt a tremor in him, deep and horrified, but under control.

Photographs from Distant Places (1) In distant villages, You always see the same scenes: Farms Cattle Worship spaces Small local shops. Just basic the things humans need To endure life. (2) ‘Can you stay with me forever?’ She asked him in the airport, While hugging him tightly in her arms. ‘Sorry, I can’t. My flight leaves in two hours and a half.’ He responded with an artificially caring voice, As he kissed her on her right cheek. (3) I was walking in one of Bucharest’s old streets, In a neighborhood that looked harshly beaten by Time, And severely damaged by development and globalization. I saw a poor homeless man Combing his dirty hair In a side mirror of a modern and expensive car! (4) The shape and the color of the eyes don’t matter. What matters is that, As soon as you gaze into them, You know that they have seen a lot. All eyes that dare to bear witness To what they have seen are beautiful. (5) A stranger asked me how I chose my path in life. I told him: ‘I never chose anything, my friend.’ My path has always been like someone forced to sit In an airplane on a long flight. Forced to sit with the condition Of keeping the seatbelt on at all times, Until the end of the flight. Here I am still sitting with the seatbelt on. I can neither move Nor walk. I can’t even throw myself out of the plane’s emergency exit To end this forced flight! (6) After years of searching and observing, I discovered that despair’s favorite hiding place Is under business suits and tuxedos. Under jewelry and expensive night gowns. Despair dances at the tables where Expensive wines of corruption And delicious dinners of betrayal are served. (7) Oh, my poet friend, Did you know that The bouquet of fresh flowers in that vase On your table is not a source of inspiration or creativity? The vase is just a reminder Of a flower massacre that took place recently In a field Where these poor flowers happened to be. It was their fate to have their already short lives cut shorter, To wither and wilt in your vase, While breathing the not-so-fresh air In your room, As you sit down at your table And write your vain words. (8) Under authoritarian regimes, 99.9% of the population vote for the dictator. Under capitalist ‘democratic’ regimes, 99.9% of people love buying and consuming products Made and sold by the same few corporations. Awe to those societies where both regimes meet to create a united vicious alliance against the people! To create a ‘nation’ Of customers, not citizens! (9) The post-revolution leaders are scavengers not hunters. They master the art of eating up The dead bodies and achievements Of the fools who sacrificed themselves For the ‘revolution’ and its ideals. Is this the paradox and the irony of all revolutions? (10) Every person is ugly if you take a close look at them, And beautiful, if you take a closer look. (11) Just as wheat fields can’t thrive Under the shadow of other trees, Intellectuals, too, can’t thrive under the shadow Of any power or authority. (12) We waste so much time trying to change others. Others waste so much time thinking they are changing. What a waste! October 20, 2015

Goodbye,” James managed. He looked at Ryan and waited. Waited, hoping for something, needing something. Maybe a last hug. A closure. Something. But Ryan didn’t move. He stood still like a statue, his expression hard as stone. And Jamie couldn’t resist. He needed it, something to remember on cold nights. Even if it was a lie. He wrapped his trembling hands around Ryan’s neck and pressed his cold lips against Ryan’s, hesitantly, his throat closed up so tight he could no longer speak, his eyes welling with tears. I wish things were different. I wish… His eyes burned. His heart hurt. I love you. I’ll always love you, even when I’m a bitter, old man. He pulled away. He stepped back. He turned away. Ryan yanked him close and crushed him hard against his chest before slamming their lips together. God. It wasn’t a friendly or brotherly kiss. But neither was it a kiss of desire. The kiss tasted of anger, and need, and so much love it completely undid Jamie. He made a small, broken noise as Ryan continued kissing him roughly, crushing him to his chest. No tongue, just lips against lips, and need against need. At last, seconds or hours later, Ryan stopped kissing him and said one word, his voice hoarse and hard. “No.

It doesn’t matter now,” Jared said flatly. “You’re going to have a family. It’s my cue to leave.” “No.” Gabriel hugged him suddenly, something very desperate and painful about it. “Jay, don’t do this. Please. I can’t—I can’t—” “You can,” Jared said.“It’s time to walk on your own. You already did it once. You can do it again. This…our relationship…it’s not healthy for you.” “I don’t give a fuck.” Gabriel squeezed his arms tighter around him. “This is what I need. You.” Jared fought the instinctive reaction of his body. Gabriel didn’t mean it that way. He never meant it that way. “It’s not enough for me. I thought it was—thought I could do it—but I was wrong. I can’t do it. I won’t.” Gabriel’s body went rigid. “I’m sorry,” Jared said. “This is it.” He kissed Gabriel on the temple, but Gabriel pushed him away, his jaw clenched tight, anger and something like betrayal in his eyes. “Fine. Whatever!” And he stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him so hard the windows shook. Jared sank onto the couch and buried his face in his hands.

Eliza!” he said, pulling her to him with crushing strength. His voice was quiet and the words poured from him. “Eliza! What happened to you? You were gone. Then I thought you were dead. I nearly died myself with worry for you. Are you all right? Are you hurt?” He moved his hands along her back and kissed the top of her head. Overcome with his tenderness, Eliza hugged him back. Maybe there’s nothing to be afraid of. He was merely sick with worry. “I’m fine, Samuel. I’m fine,” she said, as he pressed her head against him. “There is much I need to say—” Before Eliza could stop him, he cut off her words as he pulled her chin upward and kissed her mouth, grunting and moving his arms around her back in a way that made her stomach sick. She squirmed, and tried to push away, but his mouth still covered hers and her words were mumbled. “Sa-uel—lease! Sto—!” He kissed her harder. Panic surged through her muscles as she fought against him, hitting her fists against his solid chest. Finally, he released her with an angry push. His clouded features hardened. “No, Eliza, I can’t stop!” His chest heaved and his knuckles turned white as he clenched his fingers. “I have done nothing but search for you all these many weeks. I’ve worried day and night over you. I love you. You’re to be my wife! Will you not kiss me back?” He shook her by the shoulders. “What’s happened to you? What has Thomas done to you?” His eyes searched her face then grew wide and flashed with venom. “Has he defiled you? I’ll kill him! Is that why you push me away? You think I won’t have you? It doesn’t make any difference to me, I’ll love you just the same—” “No! No, Samuel, please. It’s nothing like that.” Her fingers trembled as she held tight to his biceps hoping he could read the sincerity in her eyes. “He’s done nothing to me. He’s protected us from the beginning—” “He kidnapped you!” Samuel seized her arms with iron fingers. “He rescued us.

Slowly, carefully, she threaded her arms around his neck and hugged him. Under her touch, his muscles were rigid, bunched, braced. But then it was like he melted, and his arms came around her in return. For a long moment, he held on tight, like she was his anchor. And then he pulled back enough to rest his forehead on her shoulder, the pain that had rolled off of him moments before replaced by a heavy weariness. She stroked the back of his head and neck, soft caresses meant to comfort. She loved holding this big man in her arms, loved knowing that maybe she wasn’t the only one in need of some comfort and protection and reassurance. “Know what’ll make you feel better?” she said after a little while. “You?” Her heart literally panged in her chest at the sweetness of that single word. She kissed the side of his head, his super short hair tickling her lips. “Besides me.” Reaching out with her hand, she grabbed the milk-shake glass and her spoon. Easy sat up, an eyebrow arched as he looked between her and the ice cream. She scooped some onto the spoon and held it out to him. “Trust me.” Skepticism plain on his face, he ate what she offered. Jenna couldn’t keep from grinning at his lack of reaction. “You clearly need more. Here.” He swallowed the second spoonful, too, but still wasn’t looking particularly better. “This is a very serious case,” she said playfully. “Better make it a double this time.” The spoon nearly overflowed. A smile played around the corners of Easy’s lips, and it filled her chest with a warm pressure. He ate it just before it dripped, humor creeping into his dark eyes. “See? It’s working. I knew it.” This time he stole the spoon right out of her fingers. “Problem is, you aren’t administering this medicine the proper way,” he said as he filled the spoon himself. Jenna grinned again, happy to see lightness returning to his expression. “I’m not?” “Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “This is what will really help.” He held the spoon up to her lips. “How will me taking it—” “No questioning. Just obeying.” There was that cocked eyebrow again. “Oh, is that how it is?” she asked, smirking. When he just stared at her, she gave in and ate the ice cream. Next thing she knew, his lips were on hers. Avoiding the cut on her lip, Easy’s cool tongue slowly snaked over her lips and stroked at her tongue. He grasped the back of her head as he kissed and nibbled at her. The rich flavor of the chocolate combined with another taste that was all Easy and made her moan in appreciation. His grip tightened, his tongue stroked deeper, and a throaty groan spilled from his lips. One more soft press of his lips against hers, and he pulled away. Jenna was nearly panting, and very definitely wanting more. “You’re right,” she said, “that is much more effective.” He gave a rare, open smile, and it made her happy to see it after how sad he’d seemed a few minutes before. “Told ya,” he said with a wink. She nodded. “But, you know, that could’ve been a fluke. Just to be sure it really worked, maybe you should, um, give me another dose?” Easy looked at her a long moment, then leaned in and scooped another spoonful from her nearly empty glass. He held it out to her, making her heart flutter in anticipation. When she tilted her head toward the spoon, he yanked it away and ate the ice cream himself. “No fair,” Jenna sputtered, reaching for the spoon. “That is not what the doctor prescribed.” Holding the spoon above his head put it out of Jenna’s reach, even with them sitting on the bed. She pushed to her knees, grabbed hold of his shoulder, and lunged for it. Laughing, he banded an arm around her lower back and held her in place, easily avoiding her grabs. Jenna couldn’t stop laughing as they wrestled for the spoon. It was stupid and silly and childish . . . and exactly what she needed. And it seemed he did, too. It was perfect.

Furi put his hands over top of Syn’s and slowly brought their hands down. He stood and wrapped his arms around Syn’s neck and Syn hugged Furi tightly to him. Their mouths came together hard and hungry. Biting and licking each other, like one of them was leaving for a long journey. They kissed like it could be their last time, and it unnerved the hell out of Syn. He didn’t like this feeling, he didn’t like the uncertainty of this whole fucked up situation. He needed to fix this.

I followed your instructions exactly, I promise. I don’t lie.” Vic rubbed the back of his neck. “Right, sorry. Didn’t mean to imply anything. I’m just worried, that’s all.” Kellan stared at him for a moment before his lower lip began trembling. Vic rushed forward in case Kellan was in any pain and needed his help. He grabbed his upper arms. “What’s wrong?” A tear fell from Kellan’s eye. “No one’s cared about what happens to me for a very long time.” Vic yanked Kellan into his embrace, cradling and rocking him. He closed his eyes, rested his head on Kellan’s, losing the battle to remain indifferent to the young man. Just because he was doomed to never finding his true fated mate, it didn’t mean he couldn’t care about and love another. Even if in his mind it was odd that he should fall so hard and fast for Kellan, for a swan, that didn’t make it wrong. The way Kellan pressed his cheek to his chest and hugged him back so tightly was nothing short of a confirmation that he was feeling the same way. He still intended to try and slow things down, if only to allow poor Kellan the chance to adjust to his new world, along with discovering his place within it. Kellan loosened his hold and gazed up at Vic. “Is it okay that I like you and think you’re very handsome?” Yup. That’s a rather direct confirmation. “Only if it’s okay that I like you and think you’re very beautiful.” Kellan grinned. “Really? You think I’m beautiful? Finn always said—” Vic placed a finger against Kellan’s lips. “Hey, let’s forget about him for now. I realize it’s going to take you a long time before for you to heal from what he and the rest of the herd did to you, but for now, maybe you can practice telling yourself that he was a horrible person who only wanted to hurt you, that none of what he said was true. What do you think?” Vic rubbed his thumb across Kellan’s soft cheek. “I think you’re right, about everything.” He sighed

I tell Ceri, this is most likely when I developed an utter love of literature. The Adventures of Tom Sayer. David Copperfield. The Little Prince. Then Cervantes. Balzac. Nabokov. Capote. Some of Miller – but my folks found out and said I was too young for that. I tell Ceri, most likely this is when I developed my inner fears. But that would be an oversimplification. Some-times he used to come around when my mum wasn't there, and Dad was always tired and angry cause he couldn't find a job. And when they had done drinking and Dad was resting, sometimes he would come to my room and we'd read together. He would pull me out of my bed, put me on his knees and hold me tight and read Verne or Rimbaud or Carroll. In candlelight, we would read Dickens and Doyle. Salinger as well. I tell Ceri, this is most likely when my brain started to repress memories and wounds. Then one day they had an argument, Mum was crying a lot that day and at one point came to my room and hugged me till night. We moved out of there shortly after, we moved to a smaller house and I never saw him again. The first time I meet her, I tell Ceri this is just another story now. No need to worry about anything, really. I tell her, I don't even read Rimbaud or Cervantes anymore, you know.

As soon as I got my feet under me, indignant rage bubbled over. “Don’t ever do that again. I’m not your fucking possession,” I hissed at him. His eyes flashed. “No, you’re not my anything, are you? I’m allowed to touch you as long as I don’t act like it means something, right?” The emotion on his face twisted my insides. Anguish and despair swirled in his eyes. I turned back for the bar to escape that look, and his arms were around my shoulders in a second, locking my back against his chest. His lips went to my ear. “I can see the way you feel about me when you don’t think anyone is looking. I fucking see it, Kristen.” His voice cracked. “I remember what you said to me that night in Vegas. I remember.” All of the fight drained out of my body in an instant. He breathed into my ear. “Why won’t you just let me love you?” A sob burst from my mouth, and I went limp in his arms. He held me up, hugging me to himself, absorbing my surrender. I turned in the circle of his embrace and buried my crying in his shirt. He put his face into my neck and held me so tightly I couldn’t breathe. But I didn’t want to breathe. I wanted to be his prisoner. I wanted to never escape. Tears poured out of me. “I can’t, Josh.” I gasped into his chest. “You don’t know it all.” “Then tell me,” he said. He pulled away from me and spoke to my eyes. “What is it? Because I know you want me. I know you’re acting. Just tell me why.” How do you share something like that? How could I tell him that my body could never do the one thing he needed it to? I couldn’t. I couldn’t get the words out. I couldn’t bear to see my value drop in his eyes, see him realize I wasn’t actually what he wanted. Less of a woman. Damaged goods. Barren. Sterile. I shook my head, biting my lips together. “Josh, you should just forget about me. Get serious with one of those other women you see. Have sex with them. Move on.” He let out a puff of exasperation. “What other women? There are no other women. There never has been. Do you know what I’m doing when you think I’m on dates? I’m at home, alone, wishing I was with you. This is what you’ve made me into. I pretend to see other people because I know if I don’t, you won’t see me anymore. Why?” “You…you haven’t been seeing anyone else?” I blinked at him. “Of course not. I’m fucking in love with you.” And like he couldn’t stand not to for one more second, he grabbed me and kissed me. His lips were pained and desperate, and I hopelessly kissed him back. I climbed him, combing my hands in his hair. I wished I could drown in him. I needed to extinguish the burning disappointment in my soul, and for a few seconds, I did. And then I pushed him away. He let me go and I staggered back in the grass, and he stood there, panting. “Josh, I can’t see you anymore, okay? This is over.” I choked on the words. I watched what I said hit him like a smack. “Why?” I wiped my face with the back of my hand and blinked through the tears. “Because you’re obviously taking this way more seriously than you should be. I told you. I told you from day one that this would only ever be sex. I never lied to you.” His jaw went rigid. “You’re lying to me right now. I know this isn’t what you want. You fucking love me, Kristen. Just stop—” He reached for me and I smacked his hand away. He stood staring at me, confusion and hurt etched all over his handsome face. “Why aren’t I good enough? Is it because I don’t speak a dozen languages? I don’t have a fucking master’s degree? I don’t make enough money? What is it?” It’s not you. I let the tears run down my face, and I clutched at my facade. “You thought you could change me just like you thought you could change Celeste. You’re changing the rules, just like you did to her. Don’t put your shit on me, Josh. You said you could handle this. You said you could—” “I’m not fucking crazy! Stop acting like I’m making this up!

Still slutty, still to the unsub’s liking, but something that didn’t hug her ass so tight that she wasn’t able to fart if she needed to.

It doesn’t seem real. The fire. The people in the forest. The helicopter crash. Mayor Tillson. Rafe.” I looked up at him again. “It can’t be real. I’m asleep. It’s a nightmare. Tell me it is.” He hugged me so tight my ribs protested. “I wish I could.” His voice cracked and I hugged him back, as hard as I could. Someone cleared his throat behind us. It was Corey. He crouched and said, in a low voice, “I know this is a bad time, guys. I’m really sorry. But the girls-- They’re freaked out and they need someone to tell them what to do and…that’s not me.

I walked to the covered porch. Rafe was on the futon, still dressed, no blankets or pillow, sleeping with his head on his arm. It was chilly, with the cold night air seeming to blast through the window glass. I found a blanket folded by the wood-burning stove. I went back to Rafe, unfolded the blanket, and crawled in beside him. He woke as I was pulling the blanket up over us. “Maya?” I put my fingers to my lips and lay down. When I opened my mouth, he put his hand over it and waved at himself, reminding me that he was still wired. Then he leaned to my ear again, his voice so low I’d never have heard it without skin-walker hearing. “I have to sleep with my clothes on. But I know why you’re here. Daniel.” “I--” He covered my mouth again and whispered in my ear. “You need to tell him. I was hoping you wouldn’t…” He trailed off, but stayed by my ear, so I couldn’t see his expression. I knew what I’d see if I did, though. Disappointment. Hurt. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. He hugged me. A tight hug. Fierce. Then his lips went to my ear again. “Don’t be.” I tried to look away, but he caught my chin and kissed me and it was such a sweet kiss, and I felt so guilty, like I’d betrayed him, and my throat seized up and tears trickled down my cheeks, onto his.

And if today was like any other day, make extraordinary out of ordinary. Drink your cup of coffee slowly, maybe even try a new flavor. Look up at the sky as often and breathe in the air as deep as you can. Wear your favorite outfit, you know the one that makes you feel extra pretty and secure. Sit at your favorite place, in your usual spot and enjoy the sunlight breaking on your face. Walkthrough the same roads but look at them differently. Hug your favorite person extra tightly today. Maybe even buy your favorite flower on your way home. Make it a day to remember, make it less ordinary, make it more of a date you save than just another day. So many days pass, so many will pass, wait for special days to create themselves and you will close your eyes and open them one day to an empty calendar, nothing to miss when you leave this city, nothing to long for when you are old and grey, you need something for your heart to hold on to, you need something that makes you feel anything.

Ash.” Ashlynn spun like a dancer before launching herself at her twin, hugging the man tightly around the neck. “You wonderful man! I need to send you out for things more often; you always come back with more than you’re supposed to.