Everywhere You Look (Never Tell Collection, #1)

by Liv Constantine

Tonight, I’m filled with a sense of peace, something I haven’t felt since I lost him ten years ago. So many pieces of him are gone now—cherished memories elude me, fading with time like the ink on old photos. Every passing year pushes him further away from me, and I’m afraid that I’ll wake up one day and my recollections of our times together will be as tenuous as sand between my fingers.

The doctor had warned me that if I didn’t start treatment soon, things could get worse quickly, but I wanted to enjoy my birthday—not be sick from the chemo. Maybe I should have listened to him.

They say time heals all wounds, but ten years hasn’t dulled the pain or lessened the grief that has been a constant ever since he died.

knowing you’re screwing up your life and having the strength to stop yourself from doing it are two different things entirely.

I shouldn’t be content with his crumbs, but when you’re starving, crumbs can seem like a banquet.

Let’s face it: most people view motivational speakers as one step away from cult leaders.

I don’t want a man who loves me unselfishly. I’ve already had that. And I killed him.

He oozes charm when he wants, doles out attention that makes you feel like you’re the only woman in the world, and then withholds it so you’re dying to win it back.

Both have five fully formed fingers. My father lost half his pinkie in a carpentry accident when I was twelve. The man we buried couldn’t have been my father.

Three-year-old Mia Campbell went missing from the hospital without a trace.

Over the past ten years, I’ve been through hell, between the depression, the bad choices, the hopelessness, and the unending regret.