BooksBarbecue
Back Angel Save as PDF
Chapters (88)
  1. Welcome
  2. Dedication
  3. To the reader
  4. BOOK ONE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. BOOK TWO
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. BOOK THREE
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. EPILOGUE
  87. Books by James Patterson
  88. Cover Page

After dinner (which was fabulous—ham and cheese and potato crepe), we all walked back to the hotel together. Angel and I fell behind and were talking quietly while the others went ahead. I was half paying attention to what she was saying and half reliving kissing Dylan.

And I’m sure you already realize what I didn’t remember till it was too late: Angel can read minds. And she isn’t too particular about who’s mind it is or when she reads it.

She took my hand. I looked down at her and saw that she had grown three inches, like, in the past couple months. “I’m sorry this is so hard, Max,” she said. “I know it’s all confusing.

“And I know how much you love Fang,” she said, surprising me. “But that just doesn’t seem possible anymore, you know?”

I made some sort of strangled noise—I was getting relationship advice from a seven-year-old. Because she knew more than I did. A new low.

“Max, we know how much you’ve done for us,” she continued, my mind reeling. “You’ve made so many sacrifices for us, risked your life so many times. In a way, letting Dylan love you is another sacrifice—one you would make not just for us but for the future of the whole world.”

Okay, now I was seriously wigging out. Was Angel saying I should flit off to Germany and have eggs with Dylan? I mean, WTH?

“And,” Angel said, pausing before we went into the hotel, “it’s a sacrifice that you could even be happy with, someday. Dylan is a great guy. And if he really was made for you, it’ll make everything so much easier. He truly cares about you. If you let him in just a little bit, he could easily love you.”

I felt like I was going to faint or throw up—that’s what talking about emotions does to me—but I looked down into her big blue eyes. She gave me a little smile.

“I wish I could help, Max. I wish I had all the answers. All I can do is tell you to trust your feelings. And don’t worry about what Fang or anyone else thinks. Whatever you do, I support you. I’m here for you, okay?”

I so wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe she no longer wanted to take over the flock, to be the leader instead of me. “Believe me, Max,” she whispered.

64

MANY THINGS IN America are really big. Big Macs, for example. And stretch pants, and cars. Not so much in Europe. In general, things there seem to be scaled down, more people sized. And it’s charming. It’s approachable.