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Happiness was the greatest torture of all because it could all be taken away—and it was so much worse than if you’d never experienced it at all.
Only the last section of each book remained dusted with black flecks from the fire. Because as frequently as I revisited each one, I couldn’t seem to force myself to make it to the end. Of any of them. Something about the endings was too painful, too final, even if they were happy.
“You shouldn’t hide a damned thing, Reckless. Especially not something that proves how strong you are.”
“Sometimes, the only way to stay alive and breathing is to pretend it never happened. Over time, you can let it in, piece by piece, but if you do it all at once, you could drown in the grief.”
She didn’t wait for me to answer; simply turned around and headed back to the guesthouse, taking her light with her as she left. I watched her go for too long, as though I could see the particles she left in her wake. I wanted to grab each one and hold them close. But they were like fireflies. If you kept them captive, they’d die. All you could do was relish having them swirl around you in the moments they graced you with their presence.
“I didn’t want to care about anyone. But you shot that all to hell.” My heart hammered against my ribs, butterfly wings dying to break free. A muscle fluttered in Anson’s cheek. “You didn’t sneak past my defenses, you bulldozed them. Reckless to the bone. And maybe you made me brave enough to be reckless, too.”
“Greta loved flowers.” Rho’s fingers clamped down on mine. My mouth curved the slightest bit. “But she was awful at taking care of them. We talked every week, and she would moan about killing another one. She would’ve loved your back deck.”
“I wanted to climb into the grave with her.” “I know,” Rho whispered. “But she wouldn’t want that.” “No,” I croaked. “She wouldn’t.” Rho bent, lowering herself slowly until her lips were just a breath away from mine. “So, live.” And for the first time in two years, she made me want to.
