“I was shaking when our lips parted and he leaned his forehead against mine, his fingers carding through my hair, my hands on his face. "I won't let them," Rafael said. "I won't let anyone take you away. I'll protect you. I'll always protect you. I don't care how. I just will.”

“I'm always gonna protect you. And I'm always gonna protect that little girl. There's no way in hell I'll let that woman get her hands on her.""Rafael," I said."Yeah?" "You are the most wonderful person I've ever known."It took him a moment to answer me--and when he did, I though he sounded bashful."I'd better be," he said. "Because, you know. That's what you deserve.”

“He broke away from my mouth and trailed his lips down the front of my throat. I felt his lips close around my scars. He kissed away their ugliness. His lips parted in tingling butterfly kisses that drained the strength from my knees. I realized he was mouthing words against my skin. Not words. Just one word.Mine.”

“His words slow my pulse. His fingers, square and even, feel nonpareil entwined with mine. He is symmetry. He is color."Never," I tell him. "I will never go away.""You're sure about that?""I'm sure I can't live with a Ram-sized hole in my chest.""That would be a pretty big hole, I think," Ram says."Don't be so sure. You're short.""Hey," Ram protests."I worry for you on carnival rides.""I get on carnival rides just fine, thanks.""The operator doesn't stop you?""Tim," He pauses. "Sometimes.”

“You'll have to forgive me," Dad said. His mouth was moving very little, a sign that he was tense. "I'm not...familiar with...the protocol. For boys like you. But I..."I felt my face turning red. No, no, no. Quit while you're ahead, Dad. Please."I'm sure you have...urges," Dad went on. "All teenage boys have...urges. I don't know whether you've...tried anything--"I said please!"Just as long as you're safe. That's very important. You still have to be safe, even if you're both boys. I don't know what really...um, entails. You know. How you...do things. I could look it up for you--"I clapped my hand over Dad's mouth. I took him by his arm, my face burning, and dragged him back to the field.”

“A dam inside my own heart opened up, and the feelings of heaviness and unease lifted like wind against the winter sky. I loved him. I loved his slow wit and his gruff demeanor and his tender disposition. I loved his endless empathy and his world-weary cynicism and his innocence. I loved that he was a walking, breathing paradox. I loved his lank hair and his iron earring and the tooth missing at the back of his mouth. I loved the way he laughed, music incomparable to any song, and the way he smiled, like you could see the child in him and the animal in him and the man in him all at once. I loved that he listened to crappy music, the kind that made me want to put my head through a wall, and I loved the charcoal stains on his knuckles and the pencils he tucked behind his ears. I loved that he told me to shut up as though I could actually say anything. I loved that he made me feel as though I could. I loved his short fingers and his rough palms and his long legs and his flat belly. I loved that he liked to read Kerouac but didn't know how to pronounce Kerouac. I loved his brown skin and his blue tattoos and his tempestuous blue eyes. I loved that he loved the land. I loved him. I loved him. Oh, God. I loved him.”

“He always knew what I would have liked to say, and with startling and increasing accuracy as we spent more time together. One time, for example, I was wondering exactly how he had lost that tooth at the back of his mouth when he saw my eyes on his waning grin and replied, "Ran into a fence when I was twelve." And then I wondered how the heck he could have missed the giant fence standing right in front of him and he said, "Shut up.”