Make Me Lose (Bayshore, #1)

by Ember Leigh

the smell of home can bring me to my knees. It’s not that she uses any special perfume or anything inside the house—no randomly spurting air fresheners. No, it’s the smell of our family, baked into the wood floors and the sunny corners and the familiar paths through the rooms. It’s the thirty-plus years of living in the house, mixed with children’s tears and adolescent rages and the inescapable grief and joy that accompanies any ounce of life.

I wish it was a perfume, so I could bottle it and take it with me to New York. Take a sniff anytime I felt down. Even though I’d probably sniff the bottle away within a week’s time.

It’s easy to forget about people when they aren’t in your circle every day. When they’re hundreds or thousands of miles away. It’s easy to forget why they matter. It’s easy to forget the past, the words and the people that formed you.