“She settled for patting him vaguely on the back and wishing she was anywhere but there. Although he did smell good.”

“America grinned. “No, it’s something else,” she said, watching Travis’ hand as he patted my thigh. She was right; he was different. There was an air of peace around him, almost as if some kind of new contentment had settled into his soul.”

“She'd lost her fury, somewhere, as they'd talked. She didn't feel it anymore. She wished she did, because she preferred it to the emptiness that had settled in its place.”

“What about Myrnin?'Eve swallowed, almost choked, and Michael patted her kindly on the back. She beamed at him. 'Myrnin? Oh yeah. He did a Batman and took off into the night. What is with that guy, Claire? If he was a superhero, he'd be Bipolar Man.”

“Something she knew she did not have the right to ask him about. But she wished—oh, how shewished—that when he was ready to face his fears, she could be the one to help him.”

“When he frowned again, she was fairly sure that the nomenclature did not please him, and she found herself wishing she had been birthed to other syllables.”