Beneath the Hood (Sugarlake, #3)

by Emily McIntire

Sometimes it’s nice to feel wanted, to be the center of someone else’s everything, even temporarily.

I wonder if anyone has ever listened to her silence.

I know what it’s like to be lost in your head—to feel so alone while you’re spinning at its mercy. I know what it’s like to spiral so fast and so deep you fear you’ll never see straight again. I know the pain of hiding your grief, and doing it so well, so convincingly, that no one realizes they should be looking to see if it’s there.

“Facts don’t care about your feelings.” She smiles. My eyes narrow. “Did you just quote Ben Shapiro to me?” She laughs. “He’s a quotable guy.”

trying to figure out why no one wants me, not realizing that I’ve forgotten how to want myself.

“Every time you speak, the world quiets so I can listen.”

“I love your shoulders. The way they hold the world, but don’t buckle from the weight.”

“Falling down doesn’t mean you break,

“I love your heart,” he whispers. “I would spend the rest of my life worshiping at your feet, so long as I got to experience every beat.”

“You have a heart that gives until it bleeds, Jackson, and that’s a quality to be proud of. But it’s not your job to pick up everyone else’s pieces.”

“Maybe his dream didn’t seem as sweet without someone there to share it with.”