“For the first time in twenty-two years after the jaw tilt, Feb didn’t take her eyes off him. And for the first time in twenty-two years, he gave her a smile.”

“Tack’s eyes stayed locked on Shy’s two beats then he said quietly. “Make her happy.” Shy held his gaze as, for the first time in fucking months, he began to breathe easy. There it was.Tack just gave it.His blessing.”

“Layne knew he was in love with her. Not only that, he’d never stopped loving her. Not once, not for a second, not for twenty-one years.Fuck him.”

“I never dreamed any fuckin' dream," he whispered, and the smile faded from her face as tears filled her eyes.She understood him."Shy-""Didn't dream it, saw it, waited my time, and then you gave it to me.”

“An Omelet a la Feb,” she corrected him. “I can’t say that,” he told her.“Why not?”“I’m a man, Feb. I don’t say shit like, ‘a la’ anything.”

“<…>….That's how he made his living. He gave me a pen and ink. This," he lifted his left arm then dropped it back to the bed. "After he died, I had it inked on me. Took what he gave me to a tattoo parlor right after the funeral and got it started." Her voice held a tone of light dawning as she whispered, "So he was your Ella." Her light dawned clear for her and for Walker because she was right. "Yeah, he was my Ella." "So it was Tuku who brought out my Ty." My Ty. My Ty. Christ. Fuck. Christ. Two words. Just two words. Walker had no clue until that moment that two words could mean so fucking much. He'd never belonged to anyone. He'd never belonged anywhere. Never thought he wanted to. Until he heard those two words. He couldn't keep the thick out of his voice when he confirmed, "Yeah, it was him."<…>”

“Then he walked home thinking he'd given Clarisse Haines her first kiss and thinking it would far from suck if he was also the guy who gave her her last and no one in between”