“She re-read his email four times, feeling offended and breathless, like he had casually grabbed her head and stuffed it into a pile of wet leaves.”

“Never jump into a pile of leaves with a wet sucker.”

“He was all but shouting, stalking toward her. He grabbed her arms and gave her a little shake. "This time, the bastards don't win. I win.""What do you win?" she whispered.He bent his head and crushed his lips to hers.”

“She read and read and read, but she was stuffing herself with the letters on the page like an unhappy child stuffing itself with chocolate. They didn’t taste bad, but she was still unhappy.”

“She dug around in her bag, found what she was looking for, and brought the little stuffed dog back to bed with her. Childish, yeah. She didn't care. He was soft and cuddly-unlike Jones-and she had a need for soft and cuddly right now. She'd like to meet a woman who could breeze through a shotgun blast and not need something to hold on to. Even if it was just an old stuffed pup.(...)She swallowed hard,then caught her breath when he opened his eyes, turned his head on the pillow toward her. He searched her face in the dark."Come here," he whispered.When she hesitated, he reached for her. "The dog can come, too.”

“His eyes darkened. "You're in pain, aren't you?" He touched her temple, and she leaned her head against his hand."Yes." The inside of her head felt stuffed full like an iron band slowly tightened around her brain."Still having bad dreams?""Nightmares." She put her palms flat to his chest and spoke to the buttons on his coat. "Always the same. A face looming over me. I can't breathe. I feel helpless. And frightened.""Hush, my heart." His fingertips nudged her chin up so that she looked into his face. "Hush."She leaned against him. "Why can't I remember?""It isn't time, yet." His hands landed on her shoulders.”