More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Read between
June 16 - June 19, 2024
Beautiful things never last, and that’s why fireflies flash. Ron Pope
“I don’t know, Lucy, but it sounded like Kiki was having an exorcism in the backseat. Instead of a demon being expelled, it was a dildo.” Alyssa reaches into her oversized purse and pulls out a plastic bag that houses the evidence.
Hope is why I’m here—it’s my name, after all; it’s in my blood. But, I suppose the trouble with hope is that it’s nothing more than a feeling, and feelings are fleeting. Names are eternal, but feelings don’t last forever. And neither do we.
You think you know what’s coming, but you never really do. And sometimes, when you think something is coming to an end, it’s actually the beginning of something beautiful.
“He’s not married,” I shake my head. “He has honest eyes.” “Ted Bundy had honest eyes.” I wrinkle my nose. “Valid point. Keep me posted.”
“What’s he look like?” “Like he was this-close to getting a role on Sons of Anarchy,” I say, pinching my thumb and index finger together. “Tall and muscley, lots of tattoos. Scruffy and edgy. Steady scowl.” Her eyes bulge. “You just described my future husband. Name?” She reaches for her phone, already in research-mode.
Deceptive Cadence: When you think something is coming to an end, it’s actually the beginning of something beautiful.
Normally, I do plan for freak things. I leave an hour early to drive five minutes away in case there’s a stalled train, or never-ending construction, or a meteor shower, or someone’s unfortunate dice roll during a game of Jumanji.
When you care about someone, you worry about them, no matter what. That’s just the way it is.
“I just mean…not everything that makes us hurt needs to be forgotten or banished. It hurts because it mattered. And things that mattered once, will always matter,”
As I stand here with tears tickling my cheekbones, I know that life’s truest treasures live inside the unexpected moments. The little curveballs that sweep us off our feet and steal our breath. I told my parents the bike was the best gift I ever received, and nothing could ever top it. I meant it at the time. But then… Cal smiled at me.
I wish I could bottle this moment; package it up and store it inside me, unwrapping it when I need the reminder that my Cal is still in there.
“I haven’t had sex in two years, Lucy.” I gasp before my mouth snaps shut. Cal tosses the papers on a shelf and turns toward me, his eyes flaring. Wild and magnetic. Burning into me like violent embers. He takes a single step forward until he’s only inches away and sweeps his gaze across my face. And then he says in a low, steady voice, “God help the woman who breaks that streak.”
Before I can inhale another breath, one arm dips beneath my knees while the other cradles my back. He lifts me in the air and pulls me to him, whispering, “Fuck, sunshine, I got you.”
“I think that’s the difference between a disaster and an adventure,” he says. “It’s the people you experience them with.”
Like my addiction to lime-flavored things, such as Jell-O and Skittles? I used to pick out the green candies and pop them into my mouth all at once. Honestly, I’m pretty sure the last time I felt truly betrayed was when I discovered the green Skittles had been changed from lime to green apple.
“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He doesn’t hesitate. Not even the slightest falter. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you straddling my lap last night, or about that kiss I regret not taking.”
Nash frowns. “She doesn’t? And why is that?” “Because I’m sleeping with her, that’s why.” I go pallid. My neck does a one-eighty Exorcist twist toward Cal as my already pink cheeks morph into fuchsia. “Um.” Nash scratches the back of his head, shifting between feet. “Beg your pardon?” Cal crosses two big arms over his oil-stained t-shirt, his expression blasé. “I’m fucking her,” he repeats. “Regularly. Aggressively.”
“I gave you an out. You’re welcome.” “An out?” “Yeah, an out with him,” he says. “Or an in with me. Whichever.”
It’s fascinating how two people burned from the same experience can come out on the other side with completely different scars.
I think back to a night beneath the stars, camping in my backyard, when Cal told me he wanted to marry me one day. I was only eight years old at the time, and Cal was ten, but I’ve never forgotten it. It felt like a real proposal. It felt like our destiny had been written in those stars.
“My parents tried, but I’ve come to realize that home isn’t just four walls and a roof,” I say softly as we linger in front of the screen door. “The memories here aren’t as palpable. This isn’t the house I dream about when I go to sleep at night.”
The veins in his neck pulse, his pupils blown. “A girl as sweet as you shouldn’t look like sin,” he murmurs, voice full of grit. “Brings me to my goddamn knees.”
Love can be a fulfilling, enchanting thing, but it can be a thief, too. It can drain you, suck you dry, strip you bare. I decided that I would never give it a taste. It wasn’t worth it.”
His face twists into a deadly scowl as he takes a deliberate stride toward me. “I died the day I lost her, and I’ve died over and over again, every day since,” he spits out, teeth bared. “And then you come along and bring me back to life, only to put me right back in the fucking ground.”
“They live inside here, which is as close as they can get.” She places a tender palm against my chest, reveling in my heartbeats. “Dad lives in the strings of your guitar. Emma in the fireflies on a warm summer night. Jessica in your laughter and every inside joke. That’s not far, honey. That’s not far at all.”
I’m sorry for avoiding you for a week because I couldn’t process the thought of a life without you. I’m sorry for firing you. I’m sorry for finger-fucking you until you chanted my name, and then breaking your perfect heart. I’m sorry for not being able to love you, because everything I love dies. And if I lose you, it’ll finally be the goddamn end of me.
