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Être aveugle n’est pas d’être misérable ; ne pas pouvoir être en mesure de supporter la cécité, c’est cela qui est misérable.
John Milton
Charlotte Conroy, violoniste de Juilliard, était sur le point de connaître la grandeur lorsque la tragédie abattit ses ailes sombres, écrasant ses espoirs et brisant son cœur. La musique qui chantait dans son âme s’est tue, et elle est sur le point de poser définitivement son violon. Pour payer les factures, elle accepte un emploi d’assistante personnelle pour un jeune homme amer et en colère qui a été handicapé par un horrible accident...
Noah Lake était un athlète de sport extrême, journaliste et photographe. Il a parcouru le monde à la recherche de sa prochaine montée d’adrénaline, jusqu’à ce qu’un plongeon le laisse dans le coma. Il se réveille pour constater que sa carrière est terminée, ses rêves brisés, son monde d’une noirceur sans fin qui ne s’éclaircira jamais.
Charlotte commence à voir que derrière l’extérieur colérique et cassant de Noah se cache un jeune homme qui souffre. Elle est déterminée à lui montrer que sa vie n’est pas finie, qu’il a beaucoup de raisons de vivre, n’imaginant pas qu’elle deviendrait la seule lumière dans ses ténèbres, ou qu’il l’aiderait à trouver la musique dans les siennes.
La vie qu’il a connue est terminée. La vie qu’elle veut est juste hors de portée.
Ensemble, ils doivent affronter leurs peurs et redécouvrir ce que signifie vivre réellement.
288 pages, Paperback
First published June 1, 2015
An ache clenched my heart so hard I nearly gasped. Companionship. Someone in my space, touching me, talking to me, just sitting next to me and sharing a meal, as if I were whole.
“You’re the light in my darkness, Charlotte.”
["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>"Because the idea of failure, of living without her in my life, was a nightmare worse than blindness."




“You are the light in my darkness, Charlotte.”
“His rudeness, I realized, wasn’t directed at me, but at himself. Noah oozed self-loathing like a vapour, and I decided to show him that I could see beyond the cutting remarks and make a connection.”
“I hated to even think the word ‘tortured’ — it sounded so melodramatic — but that was the impression he gave. His body was meant for swimming in oceans and racing down ski slopes, not sitting hunched in darkened rooms.”
“Losing all that is bad enough. But I lost something else, something I craved and lived off of, almost as much as I did air and food and water.”
“What’s that?”
“The rush. The adrenaline. The thrill of walking the edge of life and death… I didn’t have a death wish, but I loved taunting it… Because only when you’re about to lose it all, do you realize how much you have."
“I held him, kissed him, afraid if I stopped touching him, he’d vanish in a puff of smoke. He kissed me back, hard, holding me harder, pressing me to him. His hands roamed my back as he kissed my lips, my cheeks, my eyes with desperate intensity before finding my mouth again. I tasted my salt tears, or maybe they were his, and then we couldn’t kiss anymore, but held on to each other as the crowd parted around us.”


"His bark is unpleasant but he has no bite, I promise."

“You’re cute in a sad, smart kind of way.”
“He told me he loved me and I did something really stupid.”
“Which was?
“I believed him.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”
I pulled away, held his face in my hands.
“Then don’t.”


Love, real love, wasn't empty, grasping hands or lies that felt like truths. And it wasn't perfect or neat or always easy. It was a rising sun on a new day. It was endless possibility.
"You deserve more than what's left of me."




An ache clenched my heart so hard I nearly gasped. Companionship. Someone in my space, touching me, talking to me, just sitting next to me and sharing a meal, as if I were whole.
“You’re the light in my darkness, Charlotte.”



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