If Only In Our Dreams (Christmas Daddies, #3)

by Fae Quin

he reminded me of a sculpture I’d seen at a gallery in New York. Immortalized in glass, a crushed flower petal had sat on display for the world to ogle. It had been delicate once. Before its destruction had been celebrated. Perfect from a distance, in the way only the truly manufactured can be, but when you moved in close, its history became evident.

At this age, they had such big feelings, so big they couldn’t figure out how to regulate them most of the time. I tried to help as much as I could, but there were times when feelings just needed to be…felt.

“I think because of our mom, sometimes it’s hard for both of us to realize that love, real love, has no stipulations.” Miles sucked in a breath and his eyes burned holes into mine. “It doesn’t come with strings attached. And it follows you, no matter how far you run. It’s messy and sweet, and if you let it, it fills in all your cracks and crevices.”

Ben slept mostly naked. Which was possibly the most amazing thing I’d ever discovered. The only thing he wore were these frankly slutty pair of threadbare gray sweatpants that had a dick print obscene enough he belonged in prison.

“Good things are worth hurting for.

How long are you gonna tell yourself you’re not worthy of the kinda love you want?”