“When we pull away, he rests his hand on my thigh pressed next to his and we ride like that for a long time; the only time he moves his hand is to take better control of a sharp curve or to adjust the music, but he always puts it right back.And I always want him to.”

“When he first put his arms around me, it was tentative, like maybe he expectedI'd pull away. When Ididn't, he moved in closer, his hands smoothing over my shoulders, and in mymind I saw myselfretreating a million times when people tried to do this same thing: my sister ormy mother, pulling backand into myself, tucking everything out of sight, where only I knew where tofind it. This time, though, Igave in. I let Wes pull me against him, pressing my head against his chest,where I could feel his heartbeating, steady and true.”

“He put his hand over my mouth. His hand felt warm, full of blood, the hand of a living man. “Death is a gift, so long as it is nature’s hand. But this,” he drew his hand away, and nodded toward the dead man in the grass. “When we are called back unnaturally, Death demands a price, for there is always a balance. If I am alive, then someone else must die before his time. This is what you have done. But he is the lucky one. He is at peace. I know what awaits him, and I envy him.”

“I take his hand and pull him back to me, stealing another kiss, smiling against his lips as he kisses me back.And kisses me again.And then some more.And I know he is mine. For now, for the rest of our lives, no matter what comes next.”

“I always want him. Always. It’s always like this between us, too. We come together and we simply…combust. So easily. Beautifully. Does he even know how he affects me? Does he realize how my heart now rests in his hands? I belong to him completely”

“His noise is getting quieter, but I can still see it there still-See how he feels the skin of my hand against his, see how he wants to take it and press it against his mouth, how he wants to breathe in the smell of me and how beautiful I look to him, how strong after all that illness, and how he wants to just lightly touch my neck, just there, and how he wants to take me in his arms and-"Oh, God," he says, looking away suddenly. "Viola, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"But I just put my hand to the back of his neck-And he says, "Viola-?"And I pull myself towards him-And I kiss him.And it feels like, finally.”