“She pictured Blake and closed her eyes. He lay under the bright surgery lights, tubes in place, beeping monitors, Sorry tattoo. It was as if she stood in the room with him. She poured her energy around him, surrounded him with sparkling, champagne-colored sunlight. Heal him. Strengthen him. Heal him.”

“She looked at him, and oh, the weariness to her, of theeffort to understand another language, the weariness of hearinghim, attending to him, making out who he was, as he stood therefair-bearded and alien, looking at her. She knew something ofhim, of his eyes. But she could not grasp him. She closed hereyes.”

“Looking at him, she saw her future and felt all the ragged tears in her heart heal themselves. "I fit," she whispered in marvel, stepping into him. "I fit with you."He nodded and wrapped his arms around her. "Perfectly”

“He couldn’t have known. The moonlight wasn’t enough to illuminate the room, and the tears that spilled silently down her cheeks didn’t touch him. But suddenly the kiss softened, the hands gentled on her, the lips coaxed and teased and healed. And without any more thought she was kissing him back, reaching for him with her mouth while her hands were held back, seeking him out with her tongue, calling him to her in the only way she could.”

“More than anything, she wanted to crawl across the bloody sand toward the place where Jace’s body lay, crawl to him and lay down beside him and put her arms around him, even though he was gone.”

“Finally, his eyes locked on hers, and she gave him a huge, teary-eyed smile. She couldn’t tell if he counted because his lips were stretched around the appliance that had kept him breathing. Be in there, Blake. Please. Please, God.”