More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Fate whispers to the warrior, “You cannot withstand the storm,” and the warrior whispers back, “I am the storm.” UNKNOWN
Taceo reminds us silence isn’t a sign of weakness. It is a sign of rest, of certainty, of contentment. Silence is the best response to people who don’t deserve your words.
People assume strength is loud. In reality, strength is silent. It is resilience, the will to never surrender your dignity. And sometimes, the only person who knows strength exists inside you is you.
Bolt is a reminder that words were made by humans, and sometimes, humans make mistakes.
Only he was actually naked. And, I repeat, still. Inside. Me. Nash Prescott. Reed’s older brother. His nearly thirty-year-old brother.
Riding Nash made me feel like a goddess.
Storms will always rage. Don’t run from them. Face them. Some things in life can only be learned in a storm.”
My lips craved the scars peppering his body. I wanted to kiss them. Bite them. Trace them with my tongue. I didn’t believe in the word perfect. Never used it to describe anything in my life. But it was the only word I could conjure when it came to Nash’s body.
“Ruin me, Nash. Do your best.” I’ll ruin you back, and you won’t see it coming.
Nash was the sky moments before a storm. Daunting. Dark. Beautiful.
He looked like he felt—a nightmare disguised as a dream.
And for once, I didn’t argue. Not because I agreed, but because I saw beyond the scathing veneer. Nash was so broken, it was almost beautiful how he had erected walls of thorns and poison ivy around himself.
Because at the end of the day, that’s all any of us really need. Someone who shares their sunshine no matter the weather.
His smile could cure cancer, abolish student loan debt, and bring world peace. I wanted to pocket it and save it for myself. World peace sounded boring anyway.
Love is the most expensive thing you’ll ever own. You pay for it with grief, tears, and a piece of your soul, but in return, you receive happiness, memories, and life.”
“I do. Let’s cut the shit and stop pretending that we’re strangers. You never belonged with Reed, Little Tiger. He is domesticated. You are wild. To tame you would be a travesty. The sooner you get that, the sooner you can move on.”
And in a world filled with devious lies, it was a truth I latched onto.
“Perfection is unattainable. It’s stained by the suffering required to chase it. Perfect is something you think with your head. Lagom is something you feel with your heart.”
If you think about it, the concept of a photograph is fucking mind-blowing. A moment in time. Captured. Preserved. Forever. I shouldn’t have torn your Polaroid of Reed. NASH
Not bad, Starless Night. Not bad.
“The existence of a word proves that someone in the history of humanity felt the same way I did and gave it a name. It means we’re not alone. If there’s a word for what we’re feeling, we’re never alone.”
“Tell me how you feel about my dad.” “Lacuna.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Lacuna is a blank space. A missing part.” Bullseye.
No one in the history of the universe has ever or will ever have more love than Nash Prescott. My villain. My knight. My prince. My Ben. I had to tell him.
With her spinning in a dress of dead roses, frozen peas pressed to my eye, I succumbed to the fact that I wanted Emery Winthrop. This was happening. I’m going to hell.
“I know your secret,” she whispered, climbing onto my lap. “You’re my Ben.” And then she kissed me. Hard. On the mouth. And I realized I wanted to own all her kisses. But she’d been drinking, and I was reeling. Spiraling into disbelief. Ben. As in, Benkinersophobia.
As in, Emery Winthrop was my Durga. What were the odds? Fucking tell me Fate didn’t exist.
“Always was. When she was eight… and you were an adult,” he slid in, “I used to think she’d burn the world down with a smile on her face and good intentions.”
She believed in words, and magic, and storms. In fighting back, going down hard, never giving up. In blind loyalty, jumping first, dealing with consequences later. She was awful. She infuriated me. She drove me fucking crazy. And, I realized, I love her. “Ask me the question, Tiger.” Her eyes fluttered open, not staring at me but into me. “Is this just lust?” “It’s everything.”
“Hiraeth is a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was. It is the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past. I’ve always thought of it as the saddest entry in the dictionary.”
“Hey, Ceiling? Avoiding Nash sucks.” Ceiling: Awwwwww, did the bad boy break your heart? “Don’t be silly. He didn’t break my heart. He cracked it open.”
“It exists.” I closed the distance and wrapped a palm around the nape of her neck. “Fate is a hurricane. You think you know where it’s going. You think you’re safe. And just when you think you’ve weathered the storm, its path moves directly into yours. You, Emery Winthrop, are my hurricane. My fate. My Durga. My Tiger.”
I’d give you the ability to look at yourself through my eyes. You’d see that you are not the storm. You are lightning in the storm. You are what pierces through the clouds and shines brightest. You’d see exactly why I love you.
Ceiling: See? I told you he’s not avoiding you. You shouldn’t have written him that note. You can be such an asshole sometimes.
Ceiling: He didn’t break your heart. He cracked it open. Remember? “Like a geode,” I whispered, shaken by the realization. “Geodes need to shatter for their beauty to be seen.”
She looks like a goddess come to life. Durga walking this very earth. A tiger roaming her territory.
Ya’aburnee is Arabic for you bury me. It is the hope that you will die before your one true love because you cannot bear to live without them.

