Can't Get Enough (Skyland, #3)

by Kennedy Ryan

One of the hardest parts of aging is being the one “still standing” when everyone else has found their peace lying down.

When you’re losing your memory, being in a place where your life happened, where the past is at your fingertips, is important. It’s reassuring.”

Is there a certain age when talking on speaker phone is the default? Because every call my mother and Aunt Geneva take seems to require them to use speaker so the whole house is subjected to both sides of their conversation.

There are women like me who are mothering in our own ways, but have never carried a child or been a parent. We’re teachers and mentors and social workers and godmothers. We find ways to pour love into the world, to shape the world for good without bearing a child. It’s not about our wombs. It’s about our hearts and how we share them. That is bodily agency—me getting to decide what I do with my body in this life.”

“You can’t earn enough. You can’t achieve enough. Ambition for things and accolades is a bottomless pit. It’s all you can eat, but you never get full.”

Strength is not always control. Sometimes it’s surrender.”

“Some mornings to wake up and for a few minutes, not even know your name. It’s like fumbling in the dark. You keep reaching, trying to find something to hold on to, but it’s just pitch-black. I try so hard to remember, and there’s just nothing there.”

I lean forward to kiss him, hoping the depth, the hunger of it tells him all the things I’m not ready to say. That I’d choose him again and again. That I feel safer with him than any man I’ve ever been with. That when I’m in his arms, even though it’s soon and fast, choosing him feels like choosing me because sometimes I’m not sure where he ends and I begin. I never knew I could be completely my own person and completely someone else’s, but that’s the beautiful dichotomy of being with Maverick.

Fate or God or the universe—whatever formed us to fit—knew what, who, I needed.