More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
But dreams aren’t always rainbows and sunny skies. Sometimes they clash with your worst nightmare.
There’s something else, something that cracks my heart into a million pieces and tapes it back together at the same time. Sitting inside the cupholder is a giant cup of iced coffee.
“I like it better in here.” I blink at him, my cheeks flushing. “How so?” “The quiet,” he says. “The quiet doesn’t sound as loud when you’re around.”
There are alcohol in my system and three-inch heels attached to my already sore feet.
Our eyes meet for a stopped breath, and we hold, something passing between us, something that sneaks inside my soul and rots it from the inside out. I’ve lost her. No more piano chords to mend my restless heart. No more rooftops, hand-holding, or catnaps beneath her walnut tree. No more comfort. No more music. In this moment, it’s clear—she’ll never sing to me again.
A photo of Emmy the cow loads a few seconds later. Dad: Emmy says you’re a moo-vie star.
A feeling. A soul-settling feeling I haven’t been able to replicate, not here, not in this blackhearted city, draped in false light and disguised as dreams. The feeling of being alive.
Before I turn to leave, I add, “Come downstairs and eat.” Back at the island, I’m still holding on to the barest smile. And it only grows wings when I hear her footsteps padding down the staircase.
think, sometimes, love isn’t always in the ones who stick around. It’s in the missing pieces—the holes carved out, the gaps that strain and stretch. You notice when it leaves, the quiet, empty moments where absence lingers, and you feel the weight of what’s gone. It’s in the spaces where something used to be, in the silence that follows, in the ache that reminds you it was once there.
Lex is a virgin.
She covers herself. Folds her arms over her breasts as the sun pinkens her cheeks. She feels the eyes on her. “I don’t know.” My jaw ticks. I reach out and pull her arms away from her chest, my gaze dipping. “Don’t hide.”
“All I could feel was fear. I couldn’t control it, couldn’t stop it from ambushing me and taking me back there. I wanted to kiss you… Christ, I did. But that part of me…” My fingers clench tighter, nails digging into my palms. “It’s broken, Stevie.” I press a finger to my heart and open my eyes. “I’m broken.”
Regret that I’ve made her believe I can’t be touched, not when the cameras are off. Not when we’re alone, just me and her, dangling on the other side of the lie. But I think that’s all I needed. A hug.
sometimes the dreams we give up make way for dreams we never knew we wanted.”
I kissed her last night. Really fucking kissed her. The “I’m one dirty moan away from shoving you into this bathroom and losing my virginity on a sink” kind of kiss.
She knew. She fucking knew.
“She has everything to do with this,” I counter, breathing hellfire. “When you allowed a monster who called himself my father to beat us black and blue because he was rich and powerful and important, that girl put her entire future on the line to try and protect me from both of you.” I spew the words through my teeth like glass shards, my chest heaving. “When my mother was doing everything she could to toss me back into the pits of depravity, that girl was there, holding my hand, telling me I was a star—and not because I was on TV, not because I came from privilege and wealth, but because I
...more
“I love you,” she whispers, swiping mascara tracks off her face. Her words are a cold, numbing heartbreak. Rubber cement drying in my chest. And for the first time, I don’t say the two words I’ve always said. I say the two words I really mean. “Not enough.”
the truth that real love isn’t just a phrase. It’s action. It’s character. It’s meaning. It’s…her. Stevie.
Death isn’t always tangible. Sometimes it’s a feeling, and sometimes it’s the absence of feeling. Sometimes it’s a weight added, and sometimes it’s a weight lifted. Mourning isn’t always funerals and headstones; sometimes it’s the silent realization that some things are better left to rest.
