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372 pages, Kindle Edition
First published August 27, 2012
I sat on a tree branch and watched the sky's inferno quench and dim to a sleepy shade of amethyst, soft as the deliberate strokes of a paintbrush, lethargic clouds cooling into silver. Home. Home. My heart's rhythm spelled the word: Home. 🧡
"It's not blood that makes us who we are," Dad said. "It's family. And it's not blood that makes us family. It's love." 🥹

Mrs. Red Clay chatted for a while with Granny. She didn’t stay very long. Granny saw her to the front door and sighed when she had gone.
“If I didn’t love you so much, I’d let that little hussy take you wherever she wants. She’s infuriating!”
I was incredibly flattered.
He reached for me, his hands finding my hips; he kissed me, sudden and ravenous, desperate even, and my arms slid around his neck and my hands tangled in his hair, because this was home away from home, because my body, singing with reprieve, begged me to belong to his.
Then, just as sudden, he pulled back and hugged me.
“I love you, too.”
I found what I was looking for and stuffed it into his hands.
He examined it in silence.
Rafael’s face lit up in an irresistible grin. He wrapped the willow string twice around his wrist.
“Dumbass,” he said.



"You're nuts," he said. "Don't know why you hang out with me."
Because I was helpless when it came to him. Because anything he said or did had the ability to make me smile, because I felt his pain for my own and wanted to wash it away. Because I had a voice when I was with him.