Fall with Me (Playing for Keeps, #4)

by Becka Mack

I fucking get it, okay? It’s a series of unfortunate events. It’s not your fault, none of it, but for fuck’s sake, Lennon, accept the help when it’s offered to you. You can continue hating me while you do it, and I’ll make it easier for you by driving you up the fucking wall.”

and even though he explicitly said Mittens wasn’t allowed to sleep with me, when my emotions got the best of me one night, the door creaked open, Mittens was tossed inside, and then the door was promptly shut again. Jaxon doesn’t need to know I was only crying because I had just realized—knee-deep in Red (Taylor’s Version)—that Taylor Swift will, one day, stop making music, and I’ll no longer have a soundtrack to my life.

I’ll tell you something, though. Hope is a funny, fickle thing. You hold on to it for so long, refusing to give it up, and one day you just loosen your grip, watching it sift through your fingers, so damn tired you don’t even care as it disappears.

Logic rarely ever wins when shattered hearts are involved.

“The best things in life are scary. That’s why we close our eyes when we jump. But we still jump, don’t we?”

“It’s been said I’m sweeter than sugar.” “I doubt anyone’s ever said that to you, even Gran.” “This one time, she said my attitude was worse than sour milk.” He frowns. “It was three weeks ago.”