Beneath the Surface (Sugarlake, #4)

by Emily McIntire

there’re some things that just can’t be erased—tattoos that get etched beneath the surface, carved so deep they brand your soul. And I remember the wind.

Nothing is permanent. Things are always under my control, and I can choose to do things however I want. That’s all anything is, really. A choice.

“I think you’re fucking incredible.”

“But I swear to God, I’d let the world burn if it meant I could taste your lips.”

“My point is, little bird, I understand hiding your past beneath the surface—under pretty colors and inked up skin.”

“I plan to kiss every part of you, little bird.”

“Oh, God,” I pant. “There’s no God here, little bird. It’s just you and me.”

“I’m starting to think you were made for me,”

“Now that I’ve had you. Now that I’ve tasted you, no one else gets to touch you.” He slips his tongue in my mouth, branding me with ownership. I shouldn’t like the way it feels. But I do. “You’re mine.”

“You’ve gotta stop tryin’ to find the bad in every situation. You look hard enough, you’ll always find it.”

Maybe that’s why I don’t want to leave. Because drowning in Lily is better than wading in a life without her. I can’t lose her yet.

“But I know that I want to be wherever you are.”

I’m... fucking lost in everything that she is. Praying to a God I don’t believe in that somehow I’ll get to keep her.

“You’re the only thing I need, little bird.” He says it like a promise, and he seals it with a kiss.

But Alex sees those pieces, and nurtures them like they’re worthy. Like they’re his. And while I know I’ll never be whole again, for the first time, I wonder if it’s possible to fall in love with jagged edges.

Let’s do this and then go get our boy.” Our boy.

I will never find another love like Lily. She’s my person. My little bird. And I’ll do everything I can to help her find her song.

“Never expect a narcissist to admit their wrongdoing. They’ll paint themselves as the hero or the victim, but they’ll never be the villain.”

I’ll never get to tell him that for all the ways I love his mother, I love him just as much.

“I am honest, little bird. I’m in love with you. Desperately.” I press a kiss to the corner of her lips. “Madly.” A kiss to the other side. “Deeply.”

my soul feels more satiated than ever. Because I know that this is forever. I’m never leaving again.

And happiness is a funny thing. When one person has it, it spreads like ivy, winding its way around everyone else; if only they let it grow.