From Air (Wildfire, #1)

by Jewel E. Ann

“Fidgeting is good for your health. It increases blood flow, reduces artery disease, and calms anxiety.”

There’s a lot to assess with Betty, such as her light-pink bob with freakishly short bangs. Did she wash her platinum hair with a red sock?

This is a good inner monologue while looking at the light pink haired girl at the drive thru

Is she going to deflate my tires? Short-sheet my bed? Put plastic over the toilet? Remove all the labels from my cans in the pantry? Or seduce me so we get kicked out of the house?

Ideas

I can’t turn away. I want to crawl onto the counter with a pillow and fall asleep while watching her. She could make a visual meditation app. This shit’s my crack.

Of course, he’s wearing a red smoke jumper shirt that’s accentuating every muscle beneath it. And I’ve decided I’m mildly obsessed with him wearing brown leather boots that are rarely tied.

When I take a step back, he gives me a tight grin. “There was your quickie. Thanks for coming by.” I snicker, offering him an easy nod while wetting my lips. “Was it good for you? I’m not gonna lie—I didn’t climax this time. Perhaps Todd would have been more effective.” I peer toward the rooms we didn’t visit. “You barely gave me the tip. Maybe that’s all you have to give. A dickhead of sorts.”

I love this BANTER

She bakes. She has a great job. She’s sexy as fuck. I’m not marrying her, but some guy should.

“I’m good. There’s a new PA in our department. He’s my future husband. I just don’t know how to break it to his wife.”

“Assery? Is that a word? Is it like cantankerous?”

I read two to three books a week.” “Then you don’t care enough about people to ask about them.”

This could be true

My blood alcohol level is under the legal limit, but I’m intoxicated. Drunk from that kiss. “You’re generous. Distractingly mesmerizing. Quirky in a brilliant way. And ineffably beautiful.”

“You kissed me, Fitz. Twice. Why did you kiss me?” “Because not kissing you became too exhausting.” A man has never broken my heart. Homeschooling helped by reducing the size of my dating pool. Casual dating has helped too. So it doesn’t make sense that I know Calvin Fitzgerald is on his way to obliterating my heart. Yet, I do. I know it with absolute certainty.

“You know Will?” Duh. She brought him up. I shake my head. “I mean, how do you know Will?” “He popped my cherry, then ripped my heart out, threw it on the ground, and crushed it to smithereens with his mammoth black boot.” She stomps her foot to the floor and twists it like she’s extinguishing a cigarette instead of her proverbial heart.

Betty’s a slut. I love her. She’s kind and funny, with years of nursing experience that she shares with the other nurses. A true role model at work. But her legs spread like my spring-loaded kitchen shears.

“Jaymes, you’re my favorite kind of wrong. And I want to watch you come again.” Dear god.

“People who say they’re ‘built differently’ are usually not built differently. They’re afraid to feel. And they don’t want to admit it. They don’t want anyone thinking something’s wrong with them. But not wanting to feel certain emotions only makes you human. It’s basically the definition of self-preservation.”

“I will have a life, and it will be phenomenal. I will find him, and he will be mine. And to do that, I have to let you go.” My gaze climbs up his chest to his face—his oh-so-heartbreaking face. “But I’m okay with you never letting me go. I hope you think back to this moment when your life feels lonely. And if you only remember one thing, let it be this. On a random Wednesday, the world’s most fascinating woman stopped by your work and offered you sex. But you turned her down.”

As long as she’s on this earth, the distance between us will never be enough for me not to feel her, not to want her.

A woman’s heart isn’t merely complicated; it’s the reason humanity still exists. We are the nurturers, the peacemakers. We know when silence is more profound than any spoken word. And we know that pain is not love’s enemy; it’s the existential foundation that keeps humanity rooted in this world. It’s the sole motivation to do better, get better, and be better.

I’d give anything to find someone who made me want to risk losing my home. Losing my friends. Losing everything. That kind of love is a goddamn gift. You don’t let her walk away.”

“I’m pretty missable.” “Is missable a word?” “Missable is absolutely a word. It’s fuckable’s cousin.”

“Calvin Fitzgerald?” I yell, wiping my tears before they escape. He stops, but he doesn’t turn. “If you were normal and didn’t have an awful past, do you think you could love me?” My fierce heart always trumps my controlled thoughts. I’m not sure he heard me. But then he continues toward the exit. “Jaymes, if I were normal, I’d love you enough. The problem is, I’m not normal, so I’d love you too much

legs. “And if you died”—he swallows hard—“it would fucking gut me.” I don’t know if my head can take much more, but here I am, bleeding tears. Breathless in a choke hold. “And I can deal with that. I just can’t handle the idea of you grieving me,” he murmurs. I press my hand to his cheek, and he leans into my touch. “Too late,” I whisper. “Whether you choose to love me or not, whether I’m with you or find someone else who wants my heart, if I’m alive when you leave this earth, I will grieve you. Your smile. Your laughter. Your touch.” I sniffle through my stuffy broken nose with shaky breath. “But I won’t regret anything. This love is worth the pain.”

“As if showing up to my party in this mouse onesie didn’t already scream ‘pussy whipped.’ You actually brought a pussy with a whip.”

“Don’t love me like a martyr,” she whispers thickly, strangled with emotion. “Love me like a hero. Jump without looking back.” Her eyes pinch shut, releasing more tears while she inhales shakily. “Fight for me. Save us

I check my phone. I’ve checked it every five minutes since the day I walked out of Fitz’s house on Thanksgiving. Nothing. I know we’re done, but my heart loves living in denial, so I let it cling to irrational hope just to keep from crying twenty-four seven.

Love is a jagged knife. If it’s not lethal, it leaves, at the very least, a deep scar, an unshakable feeling, a recurring memory . . . a cheap tattoo.

“I love my job. I value my freedom. I thought there was nothing better than casual sex, breaking gaming records, watching football, and drinking good beer.” He lifts his gaze, eyes slightly narrowed. “But last night, I caught a tiny glimpse of what you let go. I didn’t see my old roommate. I saw a woman who loves you. And all I could think was how I’d give my whole fucking life to find my own Jaymes Andrews. I’d give my whole fucking life to be the guy who carries her shoes and makes all her dreams come true.”