“Get moving. We need to find that stag so I don’t have to chop your head off.”“I never said you had to chop my head off,” I grumbled, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and stumbling after him.“Run you through with a sword, then? Firing squad?”“I was thinking something quieter, like maybe a nice poison.”“All you said was that I had to kill you. You didn’t say how.”I stuck my tongue out at his back, but I was glad to see him so energized, and I suppose it was a good thing that he could joke about it all. At least, I hoped he was joking.”

“See you tomorrow,” he said, instead.“All right.” Then, impulsively, I asked, “Do you have a place to sleep tonight?”“Sure,” he said with a smile, and started off as if he had somewhere to be.I could have bitten off my tongue because I pushed him into a lie. Once he started lying to me, it would be harder to get him to trust me with the truth. I don’t know why it works that way, but it does—at least in my experience.”

“All I could determine was that it must have been a nice thing to see if it was a house you were thinking about moving into. But not so nice if it was the house you were moving out from. I could practically hear Mr Collins, who had taught my fifth-grade English class and was still the most intimidating teacher I'd ever had, yelling at me. "Amy Curry," I could still hear him intoning, "never end a sentence with a preposition!" Irked that after six hears he was still mentally correcting me, I told the Mr. Collins in my head to off fuck.”

“I nearly ran him over after he ran out in front of my car. So I slammed on the brakes, rolled down my window, and said, “Do you realize I could have killed you?” “It was stupid of me to run out in front of you,” he said. “Yeah, it was,” I replied. “But I’m not talking about now. Last Tuesday I could have killed you. Had you in the scope of my rifle, but I let you live. Now THAT was stupid.”

“You need to shave,” I said to wipe that gooey love struck look off his face. I didn’t need my dad to kill him. Caeden grinned and rubbed his stubbly chin. “But you love my scruff,” he said and rubbed his jaw against my face to drive home the point.”

“And we saved your life, y’know,” Andrew said, jerking his head in Oliver’s direction. “I mean, the least you could do is thank us.”“Of course!” Oliver said hastily. “Thank you very much.”“It was really dangerous back there,” Patricia said earnestly, as though wanting to make sure he understood the severity of the situation. “Yes, beheading is a serious business, I suppose,” Oliver said kindly. “I think it would have been difficult to keep on living once my head was chopped off.”