Wicked & Wildflower (Pacific Shores, #2)

by Sarah A. Bailey

“Bella, ti parlerò in qualunque lingua tu mi dica se questo ti farà continuare a guardarmi in quel modo.”

Grief kind of feels like a bullet wound that never fully heals. Sometimes, it’s just a scar, and then other days, you wake up and feel like it tore right through you again, this gaping hole in the center of your chest sucking the life right out of you. You’re never entirely sure which days you’re going to find yourself bleeding out and which days you’ll feel patched up,

“Me moriría de sed por ahogarme en ti,”

“Potrei annegare in questa figa. Muori qui. È mio. Tutto mio.”