Detour (Creekwood, #1)

by A. Marie

Music is the one thing that can make you feel while making you forget all at once. It can take you away or bring you back, depending on the song.

News flash: if a girl isn’t eye-fucking you back, she’s just not that into you.

“Ride it? It means to ride life, don’t let it ride you. It’s a reminder that no matter what gets thrown at you, you still have the power to decide how you maneuver through it. Riding motorcycles is the truest testament to that since even a small pebble can send the strongest of riders reeling.”

“The wounds our parents make can leave the ugliest scars. But they can also teach us what not to do. If you burn your hand on the stove, do you just give up ever using it again?” The circular motion stops and I give him a blank stare. He does know cooking is not my thing, right? Luckily, he doesn’t expect an answer. “No. You learn not to put your bare hand on a hot stove the next time you cook. You’re more careful, more thoughtful, more prepared. Our parents influence who we are, but we choose who we become. Their mistakes don’t have to be ours.”

“Someone made you believe you’re not. I’m going to show you that you are.”

“To family,” a scowl settles on my face before I can stop it, but Marc presses on, “the one that makes you, not the one that tries to break you.”

“We’re all broken in some way or another. That’s what binds us together, finding someone you trust enough to protect the pieces that need it most. I can’t promise you perfect ‘cause I’m not perfect. I can’t promise you easy ‘cause it won’t be. But I can promise to be here for you through it all no matter what, loving you in any way you’ll allow me for as long as I’m breathing. Whether that makes you my girlfriend or not is up to you, but my feelings remain the same. I see your wreckage and want to fix my own just so I can be the armor yours is missing. I love you, Angela.”