“I am blotting out pieces of my life. I am blotting out everything but this. But him. I exhale as he brushes against me, my body beginning to uncurl, to loosen at his fingertips. I am letting him wash over me, drown every part of me that I don’t need in order to kiss or to listen or to smile or to want. This is what I want. This is my drug. The pain, both skin-deep and deeper, is finally gone. Everything is gone but the quiet. And the quiet is wonderful.”
“And that’s when I realize how tired I am, of lies and omissions and half-truths. I put Wes in danger, but he’s still here—and if he’s willing to brave this chaos with me, then he deserves to know what I know. And I’m about to speak, about to tell him that, tell him everything, when he brings his hand to the back of my neck, pulls me forward, and kisses me. The noise floods in. I don’t push back, don’t block it out, and for one moment, all I can think is that he tastes like summer rain. His lips linger on mine, urgent and warm. Lasting.”
“I want to be oblivious to the hurt written on her face. I want to be selfish and young and normal. M would be that way. She would need space to grieve. She would rebel because her parents were simply uncool, not because one was wearing a horrifying happy mask and the other was a living ghost. She’d be distant because she was preoccupied with boys or school, not because she’s tired from hunting down the Histories of the dead, or distracted by her new hotel-turned-apartment, where the walls are filled with crimes.”
“We’re a team, Mac,” he says. “We’ll get through this.” “Which part?” I ask. He smiles. “All of it.” And I smile back, because I want him to be right.”
“Why did you take this job?” I ask. “It doesn’t make sense. You’re so young—” “It was an honor to be promoted,” she says, but the words have a hollow ring. I can see her drawing back into herself, into her role. “Who did you lose?” I ask. Carmen flashes a smile that is at once dazzling and sad. “I’m a Librarian, Miss Bishop. I’ve lost everyone.”
“I just want to know if you’re okay,” he says, so soft I barely hear it through the static. I’m not, not at all; but his worry gives me the strength I need to lie. To pull back and smile and tell him I’m fine.”