“Just get your clothes back on, and leave the way you came." Or he’d gladly heave her ass out, preferably from the nearest window. Then he’d burn his sheets.”

“When she looked up and smiled at him–a genuine, wide-open smile–it took his breath away. It lit up her face and those beautiful tawny eyes and made her more than just beautiful. Stunning. He’d never thought about the meaning of that word when it came to looks before, but at this moment he’d define it as feeling like he’d been hit with a two by four. Paralyzed but still breathing. Knocked on his ass, but still standing.”

“He kept thinking about one word—forever—and felt the burning ache just beneath his rib cage. It hurt like the worst ass-kicking he’d ever gotten.”

“Her father would return from China. He’d come back with all his soldiers. He’d pick her up in his strong arms and say that he’d never meant to leave, that he hadn’t meant to sail away and leave her and her mother alone in the canals of the Drowned Cities as the Army of God and the UPF and the Freedom Militia came down like a hammer on every single person who’d ever trafficked with the peacekeepers. A stupid little dream for a stupid little war maggot. Mahlia hated herself for dreaming it. But sometimes she curled in on herself and held the stump of her right hand to her chest and pretended that none of it had happened. That her father was still here, and she still had a hand, and everything was going to get better.”

“Finley hesitated. Maybe he’d move out of her way and let her pass.Or a voice in her head whispered—her voice—you could kick his teeth in.”

“He knew he loved her in February: steam leaving the mug of coffee in her hands in thick curls; her hair a snarled mess around her shoulders; the morning on the other side of the window bitter and windswept; her face lovely, pale, and lonely in a way he didn’t understand. She sat in the chair in his bedroom, in his shirt and a pair of socks that went up to her knees, gooseflesh on her slender legs. A copy of Oliver Twist had been open across the arm of the chair. “I think it might snow today,” she’d said, and he’d been completely in love with her.He thought she might have loved him back in March: in from the rain; his clothes stuck to his skin; the umbrella showering the hardwood of her entry hall; the dinner she’d planned forgotten when he’d helped her out of her jacket and she’d been shivering with cold. That day, when she’d pushed his wet shirt back off his shoulders and stretched up on her toes to kiss him, he was sure there was something new shining deep down in her coffee-colored eyes. “You’re so cute,” she’d said, and he’d known: she loved him.”