“You’re perfect,’ he says almost fiercely. ‘You don’t need to change one hair. One freckle. One little toe.And if it’s me that’s made you feel you should do this … then there’s something wrong with me.”

“You don't need to change one hair. One freckle. One little toe. And if its me thats made you feel you should do this..then there's something wrong with me. -Luke Brandon”

“That’s you. Callie, you’re the only person that’s ever made me feel happy about anything. That night you saved me, you changed something in me—you made me want to live.”

“If there’s one thing my mother taught me, it is how to wear the perfect mask. Never show them what you’re really feeling because that’s how they hurt you.”

“Okay, rule number one: if you do not understand something, you need to stop me and tell me you don’t understand. If I ask if you’ve got it and you say you’ve got it but you don’t really have it, then it’s not my fault that you haven’t got it. Got it?”

“Jared?” His fingers were playing gently in my curls. “Yes?” I was more than halfway asleep, perfectly warm and content, back in my own bed. With him. “Say it for me.” “You’re heavy.” “No.” “You’re a manipulative bastard.” “No.” He was laughing. “You’re right.” He gave one hard tug on my hair. “That’s not it either.” “I love you?” He sighed contentedly. “That’s the one.”