Gold (The Plated Prisoner, #5)

by Raven Kennedy

“People have a way of ruining things,” she replies, gray eyes far too pointed. “But other people have a way of setting things right again.”

“Captain, healing is not for the faint-hearted.”

Her voice is gentle, attention steady. So often, people are uncomfortable with grief. It’s hard to look it in the eye of others. Because ultimately, we’re terrified that one day, grief will reflect in our own gaze, too, and we aren’t ready to face it. We’re never really ready. But Emonie, she looks right at me with unabashed boldness, like she isn’t afraid of being tainted by my grief, not afraid to look at it too. And I get the sense that it’s because she’s known grief herself.

Grief isn’t based on someone’s length of presence. It’s based on the impact of their absence.

“Some people are in your life for only a moment, like a shooting star. Quick and short, but they light up a part of you for a second, and their brightness lingers even after they’re gone.”