Bad Blood

Home isn't a place. Home is the people who love you. Forever and ever, no matter what.

I love you.” Dean lifted the words from my mind. “Today, tomorrow, covered in blood, haunted and waking up in the middle of the night screaming—I love you, Cassie, and I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.

Sometimes, the hardest thing to be is the one who lives.

Life is full of drowning people, ready and willing to drown you, too.

Sometimes, the most dangerous people were the ones you trusted most.

Your mama always did have an eye for good-looking men." This was Ree, trying to be diplomatic. "Then again, she also had an eye for trouble." Not that diplomatic. Ree narrowed her eyes at Dean. "You trouble?" she asked. "No, ma'am." She turned to Michael. "You?" He offered her his most charming smile. "One hundred percent." Ree snorted. "That's what I thought.

It doesn't matter unless you let it matter.

This is Sadie,” he told his father, tucking a hand around Lia’s waist as he introduced her by her alias of choice. “And by the door, we have Esmerelda, Erma, and Barf.” For the first time, I saw a flicker of annoyance cross Townsend Senior’s face. “Barf?” He eyed Dean. “It’s short for Bartholomew,” Lia lied smoothly. “Our Barf had a speech impediment as a child.

Women shouldn't have to fade into the background to be safe.

Home isn't a place. It's not having a bed to come home to, or a yard, or a Christmas tree at the holidays. Home is the people who love you.

Celine snorted. “Never have I ever had a thing for blondes,” she said. And then, her eyes on Sloane, she shot our statistician a dazzling smile and lowered her own finger —meaning that she did have a thing for blondes.

When you're hurting, you hurt yourself.

In the interest of ultimate honesty,” Celine cut in, “I’m pretty sure that everyone present would appreciate it if you two got a room.” “I wouldn’t,” Dean grumbled. “I am unbothered by displays of physical and emotional intimacy,” Sloane volunteered. “The nuances and statistics underlying courtship behavior are quite fascinating.” The edges of Celine’s lips quirked upward as she met Sloane’s gaze. “You don’t say.” Sloane frowned. “I just did.

One: He's Michael. Two: he's scheduled for a meltdown. Three: Lia had been miss Rosy Sunshine since she got downstairs, and Lia doesn't do roses or sunshine unless she's screwing with someone or deeply upset. -Dean Redding

It’s not a ridiculous idea.” Sloane stood up. Her voice trembled. “You just can’t see it. You don’t understand it. But just because you don’t understand something doesn’t mean you get to ignore it. You can’t just pretend the pattern doesn’t exist and hope it goes away.” -Sloane

All of us had a way of regaining the control that life had taken away from us. For Sloane, it was numbers. For Lia, it was keeping her true self buried beneath layers of lies. Michael intentionally provoked anger instead of waiting for someone else’s fuse to blow. Dean did everything he could to keep his emotions in check. And I use knowing things about people as an excause to keep them from knowing me.

Life is full of drowning people, reading and willing to drown you, too.

We arrived home to find Sloane in the kitchen, cuddling a blowtorch.

Home is the people who love you.

I use knowing things about people as an excuse to keep them from knowing me.

I swear,” Lia continued with a wave of her hand, “serial killers are so predictable. It’s always all ‘I want to watch you suffer’ and ‘let me quote Shakespeare while I imagine dancing on your corpse.

Sometimes, the hardest thing to be is the one who lives

Sometimes, the biggest sacrifice isn’t made by the person who gives up her life.” He lowered his forehead to touch mine. “Sometimes, the hardest thing to be is the one who lives." - Dean

It's not lying if you believe every word you say.

Nothing says virility in a man like misplaced anger and counting to the number three

First rule of raising kids...don't forbid them from doing something if you're certain they're going to do it anyway.

I love you," Lia said softly. There was something intense in her tone, something vulnerable. No muss, no fuss, no misdirection. "Even when I don't want to, I do.

Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.

There was a thin line between a warning and a threat. Sometimes, the serial killer across from you quoted Shakespeare. Sometimes, the most dangerous people were the ones you trusted most.

There is no possible way this could go badly, especially if you start issuing orders. Heaven knows people who’ve spent their lives as punching bags do best when they have absolutely no control over a situation and someone else dominates them completely.