I used to be embarrassed by my mom, but now I know what she is—she’s a hero.

— Carrie Jones

I want you to want me because you want me, not because of grief, not because he is not here. I want you to love me for me. Furthermore, I want you to kiss me first and not because you need me to help you, but because you need to kiss me.

— Carrie Jones

Losing people you love affects you. It is buried inside of you and becomes this big, deep hole of ache. It doesn't magically go away, even when you stop officially mourning.

— Carrie Jones

My eyes meet his eyes.“You were a jerk,” I say. His hands move to my cheeks. “I’m sorry.” I pull away, but I can only go an inch before I bump into lacrosse sticks, not that I really want to go any farther. “Nope. No way. You do not get to kiss me yet.” He pouts.

— Carrie Jones

My fingers try to grab onto the net. I’m pulled away too quickly, dragged through the snow. Everything is white and flying and painful.“Nick!” I claw at the snow, trying to slow down. There’s nothing to hold on to. I kick and kick. The hands clutch my ankles. Flipping my torso over I get one quick glance of their backs. They’re wearing parkas and hats and look normal, like people, but faster. I smash onto my face again and lift my head just in time to see Nick snarling inside the net. He’s transformed again.“Nick!” I yell, but snow pours into my mouth. Sharp cold pain smashes through my teeth and into my skull. I cough and try again. “Nick!” He raises himself up onto four legs and howls, a long, searing cry of anguish and rage. My heart breaks for him, caught there. I have to help him escape. I have to get free. I kick again. “Let me go.” Pain shoots through my head. Fireworks. Explosions. All inside my brain. The white world goes dark, and I know what’s about to happen. I’m the one leaving. I am the one gone.

— Carrie Jones

Nick bumps my shoulder with his, playfully. He kicks up some extra snow on purpose, wishing it onto my knees.“You’re lucky you’re cute,” I tell him.”Really?”“Especially with that doggy breath.” He scoops up some snow, makes it into a ball, bounces his hand up and down. “Take that back.” I giggle. “Nope.” I bend down to grab some snow and topple headfirst. The cold of it bites into my cheeks. I try to push myself up, but I can’t. I’m all awkward and clumsy with the snowshoes on. Nick laughs. I struggle some more. He grabs me under my arms and hauls me up. Smiling, he sticks out his tongue, and with tiny little movements starts licking the snow off my cheeks. It should be disgusting. It’s not. Furthermore, it’s all warm, and good feeling, and amazing. I close my eyes and let him.“You smell good,” he whispers.”I haven’t showered.”“Doesn’t matter, you smell good.” His voice, sensual and warm, mellows me. Our lips touch and part, touch again. I breathe him in. He moves his face away a little and studies me. I smile. I can’t help it.“I like you,” I say. “A lot. Even with the whole werewolf thing.” He smiles back. “I like you too.”“A lot?”“Mm-hmm,” he says, leaning in for another kiss. “A wicked lot.

— Carrie Jones

Nick leans down and kisses my eyelids. “Loving you, Zara, is a full-time job. It’s a great job, don’t get me wrong. It’s the best job in the universe. But it is not easy, because you tend to. . .”“Get hurt?” Betty suggests. “Find trouble? Pass out? Break arms?”“All of the above.” Nick laughs. My hand finds Nick’s wrist and I grab onto its thickness. “You know, I’m the patient here. Where’s the bedside manner? Where’s the sympathy?”“Zara, sympathy is just a good excuse to buy greeting cards and make sorry eyes and secretly gloat over how glad you are that you aren’t the person whose crap is hanging out there for the world to see,” Betty says.

— Carrie Jones

Nick spreads cream cheese on my bagel for me because it’s hard to do with one hand. You need to hold the bagel and everything.“You are the nicest boyfriend ever,” I tell him and kiss his cheek.”Gag,” Devyn says.”You’re just jealous,” Nick teases him and points his plastic knife at Devyn. “Which is ridiculous because you are the star of the school now that the wheelchair is totally gone. Everyone is talking about you.”“Star of the school?” Devyn asks. He takes a swig of Gatorade.“All the girls.” Nick gestures to the girls giggling behind them. “They like miracles. It’s sexy. Remember how much play Jay Dahl berg got when he came back from being abducted?” He does not add by pixies because he does not have to.“Really?” Devyn does this cheesy and really fake eyebrow wiggle thing so he looks like some sleepy porn dog.

— Carrie Jones

Nick stands behind me. He puts a hand on my waist. I yank in a breath. The world seems to swirl around me.“Are you going to faint?” he asks. I back into him and blurt, “But you’re so cute. Werewolves aren’t supposed to be cute. Vampires are, I think. They are in the movies. But the werewolves are pretty much ugly, and they wear leather jackets and are all dirty with these monster sideburns.”“That’s all you have to say? That I’m cute?” He takes a stray piece of my hair and curls it around his fingers. “Most people faint or shriek or never talk to me again.

— Carrie Jones

... no one can ever save someone else, you know? We can only save ourselves. You know that, don't you?

— Carrie Jones