BooksBarbecue
Back Any Way the Wind Blows
Chapters (100)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. 82
  86. 83
  87. 84
  88. 85
  89. 86
  90. 87
  91. 88
  92. 89
  93. 90
  94. 91
  95. EPILOGUE
  96. AGATHA
  97. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  98. Also by Rainbow Rowell
  99. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  100. Newsletter Sign-up

I can’t say this. It will slit my throat to say it, it will slice its way out, and then he’ll cut me down—I won’t survive it. (I was never going to survive this. Everything I am is nearly gone. Finish me off, Baz.)

“Use your words,” he sneers. (That’s right, that’s my boy.)

He’s wearing jeans and a navy shirt. I think that’s his favourite colour—a blue that’s almost purple. It makes his skin glow like a pearl. His top two buttons are unbuttoned, he never bothers with them anymore. His throat is bright. His throat is mine. There are scars beneath his hairline. I’ve fit my teeth over them.

“You know,” I say again. “I’ve already told you.”

He steps into my space. Taller than me. His hand comes up, and I think he’d grab my shirt if I was wearing one. He’s grabbed me like this before. He’s shoved me against a wall. He’s loomed over me, his breath cold on my face.

“What have you told me?” He curls his lip. “What have you actually ever told me, Snow?”

“That this isn’t working! I’m not a magician!”

“And I told you, I don’t care!”

“Well, I do—I care! Do you think I like being a charity case?”

Baz is rolling his eyes. “No one treats you like a charity case.”

“I can’t even leave the house without your help. Without Penny’s.”

“We don’t mind helping!”

I throw my hands up. “You’re not listening—you never listen!”

“I always listen!” He jabs a finger at me. “You never talk!”

“I’m talking now, all right? I’m telling you. I’m done with magic! I’m done with mages! I can’t—You’re both—I can’t live with you!”

“We don’t have to live together, Simon. We don’t live together.”

“I can’t even be with you! I hate it.”

“You hate being with me?”

“Yes, all right?” I’m screaming. “Are you happy? I hate being with you! I hate your fucking wand! I hate how easy it all is for you! I hate looking at you!”

“You hate looking at me.”

God, yes, I do. I do. I hate the sight of him.

All I see is what I’ve lost—who I was. His match. Someone who might someday deserve him.

My hands are in my hair, pulling. I’m shaking my head. “What are we even doing, Baz? Where did you think this was all going?”

He steps back. “I thought…”

BAZ

I thought I was being patient.

I thought he was getting better.

I thought we were in love …

… though he’s never said so.

“I like you,” he said once. “I like this.” But that was before. When he still had magic.