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can’t wait to not have to people. Yes, that’s a verb, because again, it’s simpler to say ‘people’ than ‘I don’t prefer to socialize, thank you very much’ because who needs all those useless words when one will get the same message across just fine?
That’s what love does to you—gives you false hope and happiness and then rips it away, absolutely ruining you.
“And if we’re playing games of who saw whom first—I met you first, liked you first, wanted you first.” Oh, the dirty ideas his words make me think of.
“Wanna hear it again?” He pauses, and I don’t dare move, desperately wanting to hear whatever he’s going to say. “I want you, Erica. Just you. Only you.”
She’s magnificent, drawing a crowd of three other old guys as she and Ernesto discuss something called an ‘SS’.
don’t tell her that Dad was the primary giver of those black eyes. It’s not like it sounds, anyway. He was just raging. Hell, we all were raging. He took
out his shit on me. I took out my shit on him. And now it’s done. “You?” She knocks on her head like it’s a piece of wood. “Nope, not planning on getting caught, either.”
She doesn’t even have to try. Her power here is absolute. I want to be her one day.
“Apparently, engines are these magical, mystical things that can’t be understood if you have a vagina instead of a dick. The guys hadn’t liked it much when I told them that if I could find a G-spot, I sure as fuck could find a carburetor, but I doubted they could say the same thing. About either of those.”
My 1984 Ford Mustang GT.
She’s got a 426 Hemi that I’ve tweaked. I’d have stayed Ford loyal and put a 385 in there, but I couldn’t find one.”
I make good cars great and fast cars faster.”
“Never do that again, Shay. I don’t want Luke figuring out what a weirdo you are and bailing on you. We have a no take-backsies policy. You’re his problem, and it’s a done deal.”
“One day, when you’re all alone and wishing for someone to take care of you the way you take care of everyone else, I want you to remember this second. The moment you shit on the one person who truly sees all of you and wants you for you, Erica Cole. No restrictions, no expectations, no cages. You are amazing, brilliant, beautiful . . . but none of that matters if you stay in other peoples’ bubbles. The worst part is that you . . . you let them keep you there. And that is a damn tragedy. Goodbye, Erica.” I turn on my heel, eating the ground between her and my truck with fast strides. I slam
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Always, no matter what. I want him to know that I’m here for him and trust him to be there for me, because I choose him. Shit. Fuck. Damn. I do. I choose him. For the first time, I’m choosing something for me, not as an escape from something else like I did with the military, not like racing for my dad, even if I can’t tell him that now. But Brody? I’m choosing him . . . for myself, which makes us feel that much more important.
“Might be the other way around, Cowboy. I can handle damn near anything, so what you should be asking is if you’re ready for me.”
gonna carpe the shit out of this diem like it’s all we get.” I pick her up, and her legs go around my waist naturally.
I mean that. I still think relationships are a ticking time bomb, waiting to destroy you when they inevitably end, but I get why everyone risks it now. Why, even if you know it’ll gut you eventually, it’s worth it to be with the one person who can make every minute mean something. Without them, there’s no risk, but it’s merely an existence, not life.
“You’re worth chasing, Brody. Worth
caring for. Worth sharing with. Worth living every day to the fullest with.”
Two small, crunchy onion rings sit on top of my fries, the almost-overdone ones I love. He saved them for me. Shit. Fuck. Damn. This man is everything I never knew I wanted, everything I never knew I needed.
parents?” “The guys are working downstairs.
“Dad, I love Brody.” Showtime, Cowboy. Brody’s echo is firm, even, and full of love. “I love Erica too.”
love when she’s bitchy and brash, putting everyone in their place because she knows best. I love when she’s soft and sweet, but only when she feels safe. I love when she talks about cars and her eyes light up with excitement over five more horsepower. I love how she sacrifices everything for the people she loves, even if it hurts her to do it. I love her heart, her soul, and even that mouth when she’s cussing worse than I do.”
My eyes burn with unshed tears, ones I refuse to let fall right now, but I have never felt so understood. Brody gets me, all of me—the good, bad, and ugly parts, and he still loves me. Or maybe he even loves me because of the bad parts?
