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It’s like losing one of my lungs, she once told me. I don’t think I’ll ever breathe right again.
Most of those years, we shared what felt like an endless conversation—a rapid-fire back-and-forth with no need for hello or goodbye or small talk. We’d just pick up at whatever random place we’d left off the last time we talked.
take a sharp breath and look at my fellow travelers with new wariness. Someone in this car is lying.
“You can pee in a bottle if shit gets desperate,” Brecken says. “That doesn’t exactly work for all of us,” I grumble. Brecken thumps the steering wheel.
“Can we not make this another feminist argument.” “What are you talking about?” Harper asks. “Women make everything about gender, and it’s bullshit.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Funny coming from the guy who told me I couldn’t help push the car.”
“Also funny coming from the girl who’s current...
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It’s damn hard to fall apart when you’re busy being steady for somebody else.
Mira, I can smell you in this car. I can hear you sigh. I can feel the way your breath shifts the air. Every one of my senses is full of you, and still you don’t see me. But you will. You aren’t calling your parents again, Mira. You aren’t going to Pittsburgh. You aren’t going home. You’ll stay here, deep in the mountains. I’ll find a place, a private place where no one will find us. Maybe then you’ll see me. Maybe then you’ll understand that you’re mine.
“Because sometimes it is easier to force strength for others than to allow ourselves to feel weak and hurt.”
