But there's something fundamentally wrong in a system where a girl like Meredith would even consider staying with a boy like Dylan if she has the chance to be free of him.
Often, when I am able to check out a book, I read it a dozen times before returning it, desperate to remain lost in the magic of someone else's story.
I want to be someone strong and brave enough to make hard choices. But I want to be fair and loving enough to make the right ones.
There are only two choices. Stay here and die. Or get up and see what happens next.
My father might not have held my hand or expressed his love openly, but he taught Callie and me that we had inherent values, that we were fully formed human beings without a boy by our side.
I'm not sure how we got to this place, where a girl's only value is in what kind of marriage she has, how capable she is of keeping a man happy.
But I want to be better than the lessons they taught me. I want my love to be greater that my hate, my mercy to be stronger than my vengeance.
I'm glad she's not faking affection. It's more honest than what her husband is doing, at least. Dislike is an emotion I can respect.
How do you measure the life of one person against the greater good? Can it ever be the right thing to sacrifice an innocent person? And how do you know what the greater good really is?
Life is one sick joke after another, I'm discovering. Because it hardly seems fair that it should hurt so much to finally get exactly what I've been wishing for.
I don't trust most people. Except for you." "Why me?" "Because everyone needs someone to put their faith in.
He didn’t save me, though. He allowed me the freedom to save myself, which is the very best type of rescue.
He blows out a breath, takes a step toward me. The hallway is so narrow that I’m pinned between the wall and his body, heat rolling off him in waves. “Yeah,” he says, voice low. “I feel things.” His green eyes burn. It’s the most emotion ...
You’re easy to read, Ivy, but the whole book of you is complicated.
Even if most of the time we navigate so carefully we might as well be bombs trying not to explode, we are still always there, in each other’s paths. Just waiting for the moments we intersect.
My mission is not to make him happy and bear his children and be his wife. My mission is to kill him.
