Things We Left Behind (Knockemout, #3)

by Lucy Score

the only way out is through. You can’t just keep putting your emotions in a box with a lid and expecting them to stay there.

“What are friends for if not making fun of us when we’re at our worst?” he philosophized.

“Loving you has been a touchstone for more than half my life. But being loved by you? That’s a fucking miracle. You, Pixie, are my fucking miracle.”

I never type The End. Not even on the happiest of happily ever afters. It’s a superstition of mine because I’m never quite ready to say good-bye.