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For GH. You should be here to read this dedication. Not the book, obviously, but the dedication. You’d have loved that. How I feel because you aren’t, is pressed between the pages of this story.
Heaven had better be one massive sexcapade for him or I’m canceling religion.
I don’t want to live like this anymore, but I don’t want to die. I just … fuck, man.
aspersions
Why is it when you don’t have a lot of money, everything costs more money?
As usual, I can’t tell if I’m angry at Jesse for being irresponsible or if I’m just jealous.
“And I know it’s not your fault, but I hate you right now.” I press my lips together. “I know.” He sighs. “I don’t really.” “I know that, too.”
And I make it one more day.
“I should let you go,” I say, swallowing thickly. “I need to let you go.” I hold the worn piece of paper covered in his handwriting over the flame, letting it catch, watching the embers chase through the crossed-off tasks one by one, turning them to ash. A soft breeze spurs the flame faster, and a heartbeat later, it’s gone. And so is Walker.
Don’t flinch.
Just because Walker’s gone doesn’t mean I’m alone.
But … as good as the ride was, it wasn’t what it used to be. I don’t think it was Walker being gone or my nerves at facing an unknown future. I think it might be … growing up. I liked it, but I didn’t love it.
Case holds out a hand. “Pret?” With this boy, I think I can be ready for anything. I put my hand in his. “Absolument.”
“Unflinching.” “Unflinching,”
Which is good because I’m a dried-out husk, so tired of crying and angry that, once again, I’m crying. I don’t want to do any of this anymore. I burned the list; I applied to college. I’m healing. Why can’t I stop this fucking sadness from sinking me over and over and over again?
How long is someone supposed to feel this way? How can a person possibly live like this, being fine one minute and the next feeling as if happiness is impossible? Like I’m grasping at a concept I’ll never understand again.
I’m not sure I understand how the lady dancing on the hoods of the cars fits with the lyrics, but I can appreciate the enthusiasm. I’ve already offered for Winnie to reenact on my Navigator whenever she wants.
But isn’t cynicism the armor of eldest daughters everywhere? It’s kept me together this long. Why shed it now?
Junior doesn’t think I’m too weak. Not really. Junior thinks I’m too brave.
Are you sure? That shit is so hard. To watch kids fight for their lives—” “I know. I’m sure.” “You’d be great. You will be great.” “Thanks.”
“we’re just a couple of kissing cowboys, you and I.”
“Well, we ain’t kissin’ yet.” And then we are.
Thank you to the NFR for getting me through a really fucking hard time. I hope I’ve done your sport justice. Any inaccuracies are all on me.
Thank you to my readers. I made you wait on this one. Publishing, man. But your enthusiasm for my “sad rodeo book” has never wavered. I wouldn’t be here without you.
