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“When have we ever been able to let go of the things that hurt us most?” I mutter.
“We’ll cross paths again, Sawyer. Life has a funny way of throwing people into your path when you’re meant to collide. It’s up to you to choose to make it permanent.”
It feels like he has a lockpick and is poking through my brain, trying to unravel all my secrets.
I’ve never had a man stare at me the way Enzo does. It feels like he’s throwing me onto a table, taking a scalpel to my flesh, and slicing me open to see my blackened soul bared for him.
“People don’t actually care about fixing you. They just want to shape your broken pieces until they fit their standards. Smooth ’em out, make ’em less sharp,
She had a sense of humor and a perpetual grin, but nothing about her seemed happy or carefree. Which is exactly why I liked her. My darkness was attracted to hers,
like a typical adult who grew up deprived of praise and attention from their parents, I'm now seeking those things from a man.
If I allow them to look too long, they might see beneath the brittle mirage I’ve built around myself. They’ll see the cracks and the imperfections, and with one poke, they’ll find that it was nothing more than a clever illusion.
It’s paralyzing—the way he hates to want me. It’s empowering.
right before me was someone who couldn’t let me go even when she wanted nothing more than that, and all I wanted to do was make sure she couldn’t let me go.
fuck Him for making her the bane of my goddamn existence. And fuck Him for making her the one thing I want most.
She’s got me so twisted, I can’t get my head straight. How is it that I want to hurt her, yet protect her from my own damn self?
“Because I want to be the only thing that keeps you up at night, bella ladra,” he growls. “And if anyone is going to hurt you, it’s going to be me.”
Even worse, I want to protect her while also wanting to protect myself from her.
“Didn’t I say you can’t get away from me? That means in death, too, bella.”
But what is surviving without living, and what is death without pain?
Love is funny that way. It persists even when you’ve done everything in your power to banish it. It demands its own voice and refuses to be a slave to anyone but its own desires. And despite the power of it, those selfish desires are what make love so weak.
