Well, I know what you feel for Jeb. And it’s simple and pure. You two have been friends since the day you met. And it grew into something more. That’s a tangible thing, Butterfly. And so rare. The best kind of love.

They have both loved you with a child’s love, and now a man’s. It is the child’s love that holds you together . . . cemented by the moments you shared with them that they treasure most.

“I know it’s not fair to ask either of you to be okay with that.” Jeb tips up my chin with a fingertip. “You didn’t ask. And I don’t want fair. I don’t want easy, either. I want one lifetime with you, and every crazy complication that comes with it."

You have that boy on such a high pedestal. It’s far too slippery up there for one so unprincipled as a solitary fae. It’s not as if I haven’t tried to drag him down. I looked inside his soul. Hoped to find his weaknesses. Only to discover that even those could be considered strengths under the right circumstances.

“I can’t give you all the things I once hoped to,” he says. “But I can give you a family and a home. I love you, Al. I just hope you can love a simple mechanic.” I wind my fingers through the wavy hair at his neck. I admire this side of him most of all . . . his fragility, his flaws. His strength in spite of them. And now, he sees that strength with as much clarity and confidence as I always have. “There will never be anything simple about you,” I whisper. “And I already love you.

A muffled curse comes from the doorway. I jerk my head to find Jeb there, blood drained from his face. His gaze is fierce yet dejected, a deep and gut-twisting wound I haven’t seen since his dad was alive and tormenting him.

Jeb's eyes look like they might pop ... so do the veins in his neck. He makes a sound—somewhere between a cough and a moan—mesmerized by my rocking hips. He stands. "Would you get down? You're going to hurt yourself.""No. Come up here with me." I raised my arms over my head and roll my pelvis seductively. "It's a wake-up dance for Skittles. You know, like the Native Americans used to do to bring down rain."Jeb gawks. "I seriously doubt Native Americans moved like that.

I step closer, sand sifting under my feet, as I realize another truth. “Wait . . . if you’ve known all along about Red’s magic, you’ve been playing Morpheus, letting him think he was playing you.”“Yeah.” He smirks. “I tricked the trickster. Ironic, right?” A hint of pride shines through, making his eyes glimmer the color of spring leaves.

Jen said some guy asked you but you didn't want to go. Why not?"I shrug. "I have this character flaw? Called dignity?