“Walking home with the back half of the twelve-foot ladder I turned to look in the direction of Hugh’s loft. 'You will be mine,' I commanded.”

“In order to get the things I want, it helps me to pretend I’m a figure in a daytime drama, a schemer. Soap opera characters make emphatic pronouncements. They ball up their fists and state their goals out loud. ‘I will destroy Buchanan Enterprises,’ they say. ‘Phoebe Wallingford will pay for what she’s done to our family.’ Walking home with the back half of the twelve-foot ladder, I turned to look in the direction of Hugh’s loft. ‘You will be mine,’ I commanded.”

“I turn and I slowly walk away and I don't look back. It has always been a fault of mine, but it is the way I am. I never look back. Never.”

“What if I can't turn my head? I can look in any direction by turning my wheelchair, and I choose to look back. Rodman to the contrary notwithstanding, that is the only direction we can learn from.”

“Wait, Saturday night?" The ladder-backed chair creaked and I looked up as he leaned forward to eye me in growing suspicion. "I thought you stayed home."I shrugged and raised one eyebrow at him. "I thought I was human.”

“He bent, lips coming to mine and —'Derek? Chloe?' It was Kit, opening the back door. Derek let out a low growl.'Never fails.' I turned to Kit. 'How is she?''We’re going to take her back to the house now. She’s unconscious again.''Then we’ll walk back,' Derek said. 'Give you room in the van to lay her down.'His dad agreed and went back inside. As we walked toward the steps, I looked down at Derek’s hand, holding mine.'No one’s around,' he said. 'And we can take the back way.''Good,' I said, and entwined my fingers with his.”