Gus (Bright Side, #2)

by Kim Holden

I'm trying to commit every second of it to memory because I know in my heart this will never happen again. I was just given a gift. And I will treasure it for the rest of my life.

I'm beginning to resent being an obligation. Especially if that's all I am to her.

Ask me who it was! I want to yell at her. Ask me why my heart can't take that conversation right now. Ask me why I can't get over her. Ask me why my best friend had to die. Or no, better yet, tell me why my best friend had to die. Tell me. Please. Explain it to me. I want to know. I need to know why I'm supposed to go through the rest of my life without being able to talk to her. Hug her. Hear her laugh. Watch the sunset with her. Watch her play her violin. Kiss her forehead. Tell her I love her. Hear her say it back. Why? Why?!

"My mom never cooks. Sometimes I think Scout learned just so I wouldn't starve."

I used to take laughter for granted. I was surrounded by it for years. Then the laughter died with Bright Side. I feel like I've had to learn how to laugh all over again.

"Now when I say open your eyes, I want you to go pick up the first thing that screams, Hey, Pax, I'm fucking rad. You need me. Okay?"

He does and after a two-second hesitation, he walks to a T-shirt on a rack on the back wall that reads, Epic is a state of mind. It's a black tee with faded white ink.

I point to the beer. "I see you brought lunch."

After milk and cookies, we get down to business for the next eighteen hours.

It's been so damn long since I was at peace that I didn't want to give it up to sleep for fear it wouldn't be there when I woke up. I was right. It's not here. She's not here.

inaction is never rewarded. Results are the consequence of being an active participant in life.

I've come to the full realization that my happiness, my life, falls squarely on my shoulders. No one's gonna do it for it me. I'm the one who makes it or breaks it.