More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Have You Kissed Your Sheriff Today? and Don’t Drink and DERIVE, Alcohol and Calculus Don’t Mix, and Eat Steak!! The West Wasn’t Won With Salad. As the local sheriff’s wife, mother to a police officer (my brother) and a math teacher (me), and the daughter of a cattle rancher, I think she felt it her duty to use the wide canvas of her truck as a mobile pro-police, pro-mathematics, and pro-beef billboard.
But the thing was, crazy didn’t want brakes. Crazy wanted acceleration.
“Being rational isn’t being stubborn. You can’t just go around giving people cars. You’re not Oprah.” Duane’s lips flattened in a way that made me think he was trying not to laugh because his eyes were shining. “What gave me away? Was it the red hair?”
“That’s not fair.” “What’s not fair?” “You’re saying all the right things. Whereas I’m being completely honest.” He challenged lightly, “What makes you think these right things I’m saying isn’t me being completely honest?”
“You’re a siren who doesn’t need to sing.”
“We all know that light travels faster than sound. That's why certain people appear bright until you hear them speak.”
“You don’t need a big trip to have an adventure. There’s plenty of adventures to be had right here.” I tsked. “You know what I mean.” “I guess I do…and I guess I don’t. I’m just saying, if you can’t have an adventure where you are, what makes you think you’ll have an adventure anywhere else?”
“We’ll go inside and unpack the groceries for tomorrow,” Duane said pointedly, and continued to glare at Beau. “You do that. You go unpack those groceries.” His twin nodded, still looking unrepentant. “You unpack those groceries so hard.”
Loving him made me feel paradoxically phenomenal and reckless and safe and strong and capable—because Duane was all of those things.
“The sirens are beautiful, yes. But their song and their beauty call to the soul, not to the body. The sirens don’t inspire lust. They inspire longing. A deep, wrenching longing. Bone deep, so the sailors would rather die than live without the siren.”
“I look at you and I see my future, and it is something great. But I can’t do anything about the fact that our dreams don’t align. And since I do love you, I want you to live yours.”
“I’m not okay with that. I’m not asking you to compromise your dreams.” “But what about your dreams?” “You’re it.” She blinked, her mouth parting a whisper. “You’re it, Jessica James. And that’s the truth. Not racing or going fast. Not fixing up old cars. I want to spend my life with you. And maybe that makes me wrong in the head and unhealthy, or old-fashioned, but when I think of my future and what I want, all I see is you.”
“Or maybe I’ll just dream of us, like this, forever.” I shifted against him so I could get closer. “Yeah…that’s what I’ll do. I’ll dream of home.” “Is this place home?” He kissed my cheek and I discerned the lingering smile in his voice. “No, Duane.” I shook my head and confessed just before tumbling into blissful sleep, “You are.”
