Two motorcycles rumble in behind me and park in open spots. It’s Pigpen and Dust. They’re part of the volunteers tailing me and Violet until we’re safe.

Pigpen goes silent and that causes my bones to quiver. The two of us get along because I’m the silent one and he’s the one who can’t shut up.

How’s that wrestling match with God going?” Pigpen asks. “From here you look mighty tired.

Even with his tattoo-covered arms and the double row of hoop earrings in both ears, Isaiah’s definitely one of the good guys.

I love you, Scarlett. We’ve been connected for as long as I can remember, and I want more than a connection, I want us to make it to forever.

I want this gift to prove that I know her and that I see beyond black hair and nose rings and cut-up jeans. I see her as she really is – I see Beth.

I touch the double row of silver hoop earrings hanging from his left ear, trail along his jawline, his neck, down his shoulder, to the flaming tail of the dragon on his arm. He leans into the caress, and my own body feels on fire with the continued way his eyes gaze upon me. The first moment I saw him, the night people clamored over each other to step out of his way, I was frightened. The guy with earrings and tattoos and an energy radiating danger. Now – inside and out – all I see is beauty.

The terror is strong because we don’t act like the riot.” Pigpen spits likes he’s a viper showing his fangs full of venom. “My old man – he’s Riot.

I bunch Rachel’s hair in my fist. The silky strands rub the spot between my fingers and I press my lips to her head. My heart hurts and soars and hurts again, all at the same time. I said I love her. Love her.

I’m sick and tired of adults acting like we’re glass that will shatter if we fall. Sometimes thay need to let us fall. Sometimes we need to make our own mistakes. Sometimes, adults need to butt out.