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weren’t within hearing range, I would tell this creature how much I loathe her. Her expression is pained as she brushes a strand of hair out of my face. She’s a dark-skinned Emotion with disquieting eyes.
    Twisting away, I focus on Jennifer again. Compassion steps back and slowly diminishes. Jennifer isn’t crying anymore. I watch her take a breath and straighten her shoulders. I can’t help but think that she wasn’t in the car the night Nate Foster shattered my family. She didn’t make the mistake. He did.
    Seconds later, something else moves out of the corner of my eye. I jump, facing the threat. The instant my eyes meet his, though, I forget to be alarmed and just stare.
    â€œYou,” I whisper after a long, long pause. Every thought about Jennifer Foster flaps away into the night until there’s only him.
    The Emotion stands there, hands shoved in his pockets. “Hi, Alexandra.”
    For a few seconds neither of us speaks. I keep staring, and he just waits patiently. “Who are you?” I finally demand, careful to keep my voice low. But a part of me knows exactly who he is—has known since the first moment I saw him across the clearing. And if I’m really honest with myself, he’s part of the reason I came back tonight.
    I’m not feeling particularly honest right now, though.
    A lock of dark hair falls into his eyes. Where Revenge would grin or wink or offer some brash statement, this Emotion just smiles. His skin is pale in the moonlight. “I’m Forgiveness,” he says.
    I smile back disdainfully. “Of course you are.” And it’s only fitting that he’d be just as tempting as Revenge. Even more so, because he possesses both that magnetic force and the beauty to go along with it. His eyes are darker than mine, but they’re blue—what I would imagine the deepest part in the ocean to be like. His features are noble, with that square jaw and a slight indent in his chin. His hair is brown and wild, curling around his ears and neck. He’s wearing the same clothes as the last time I saw him: jeans and that colorless T-shirt.
    I refuse to let how much his presence affects me show. “Picked a hell of a time to show up,” I comment, transferring my attention back to Jennifer. I almost prefer Compassion.
    He regards me with an unfathomable expression. “I’ve been waiting for you to let me show up, actually.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?” I frown and turn to face him against my better judgment.
    Forgiveness doesn’t answer, and all I can think now is that he had such a sad countenance. We’re standing closer than I realized. Unlike Revenge, he doesn’t smell like chocolate or anything sweet and tempting. His scent is distinctly … minty. Yet still alluring, somehow.
    I grit my teeth and take a deliberate step back. “So, what, you’re here to save me?”
    He doesn’t move. “Only one person can do that,” he answers. His meaning is all too clear.
    Scoffing, I swing away and start for the car. I’ve had enough of Jennifer and her pain, Compassion and her touch, Forgiveness and his disturbing eyes. “Franklin already has a pastor. Granted, I haven’t been to church in years, but if I was interested in sermons or saving, I’d go there.” Leaves quiver in the wind, and moonlight filters through the trees to guide my way.
    Forgiveness is walking beside me, unfazed by the pace I’ve set. His long legs match my short strides. He doesn’t respond, and this infuriates me further.
    â€œWhat do you know about any of this?” I make a vague gesture at the house. A branch snaps beneath my foot and I falter, glancing back to see if Jennifer heard it. She’s back to loading the dishwasher, still looking lost in her own home. There’s an Emotion behind her, half-concealed so I don’t know which one.
    Forgiveness doesn’t