“I’ve loved him since I’ve known him, Mrs. Daniels. He just finally stopped fighting.”

“That smile, right there?”“Yeah?”“I’ve known you my entire life. You only smile like that for me.”

“You love him, man,” was what Jensen did say. “You love him so much, you’re making plans to go to hell for him.”

“Oh gods... oh gods... I had hurt him... so many times, I had hurt him. By trying to hurt myself, I had hurt him. By trying to push him away, I had hurt him. Every time I opened my mouth and belittled myself with my "turns of rough poetry", I had sliced his heart as fine as my wrists. I did not know why he loved me as he did. I might never know. But as I stood there and held him, my back nagging at me and my leg screaming in protest, I realized that the least I could do was welcome his love with an open heart. And part of doing that was loving myself enough to want to live.”

“He just cleaned the bathroom.”“So?”“I’ve been sending samples into the lab when I got bored. They are as of yet unidentified. It never occurred to me to clean the damned thing."Whiskey sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know, I know, I know—you don’t want to get blood all over it now that it’s clean.”

“God. No wonder it was so easy. He’s been bleeding since he was a baby. He just never told anyone. How do you even know it hurts after all that time?” Because you loved me, and I knew what it meant to feel.”

“The whole world heard you tell poor Angie Robinson that “Chris Edwards was your heart”—man, it’s one of the most fucking romantic things I’ve ever heard.”