More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
by
Freydís Moon
Read between
February 5 - February 6, 2024
Colin hadn’t earned his place yet, but he typically didn’t have to: haunted places never failed to recognize haunted people.
“Oh, stop that,”
“If you don’t plan on showing yourself, then behave at least.”
“Sometimes shame is a lesson. Most of the time, it’s just a way for us to hate ourselves for the things we want.”
They shifted their eyes to the door. “What do you know about shame?”
“I’m Cath...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
“Unfortunately, her deities require payment.”
Tehlor shrugged one bony shoulder. “All gods require payment,” she said. Her eyes fell
to Colin’s chest where his rosary sprouted from beneath his scarf...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
But faith was a hard, mean, vengeful thing at times, and losing her had calloused him.
Grief, and betrayal, and fine-tuned desperation were learned, lived, and endured. People got better from a burst cyst, from an undercooked pork chop, from an impromptu breakup. But no one fully recovered from loss like this. They simply adapted to the sound of it, calloused to the feel of it.
“I tend to appreciate distance, but somehow, I haven’t found the fortitude to stop wanting you. I think about you often:
when I’m awake, when I’m asleep, when I’m alone. Do you know what that’s like?” He huffed out an annoyed breath and glanced at Bishop, blushing hot. “To find yourself trapped in an unexpected orbit? To know someone’s power, to understand their pain, to get a glimpse of their heart?” He met their wide, tense eyes. “Before I slept with you, I daydreamed about you. Now that I’ve been with you, I’m consumed by you. How I feel about you, what I want from you . . . it’s thrilling; it’s excruciating. So, yes, you terrify me, Bishop.”
“Be scared of me,” they rasped, breathing hard against his chin. “But don’t be afraid to touch me.”
But he hopelessly, selfishly wanted more.
“You’re famous, Colin Hart,”
“So far from God, so close to Hell, so rich in sin. More like us than you think, yes?”
“Because you needed me,”
Love, dead or alive, somewhere between the two, still clawed at them. Colin saw it in their glassy eyes, knew it in their loose shoulders and open, empty hands. Love, like possession, like a haunting, refused to rest.
“I cut your heart in half,”
“And I know the only reason I’m alive is because you needed me to stay alive. You can’t out-witch me, Lincoln, and you can’t outsmart me, and you can’t outmaneuver me. I’m what you wanted to become, remember?”
“I know who you are—I know who you were. And I . .
“I’m letting you go, Lincoln Stone. I’m banishing you from my body, I’m banishing you from my soul, I’m banishing you from this house . . .”
“Oh, to beg,”
“Do you taste riches, Colin Hart? Did you strike gold between your pretty nun’s legs? Did your brujo drip like a peach when you suckled at the center of their universe? You cannot lie to me. Beg to whoever you think will listen, but know you are alone, know that I witness you. Steeped in sin. Left to rot, same as me.”
Something about this is just poetry even though it’s an insult
“Almost four in the morning. Technically, early. Should I check on you two in another five hours? Make sure you’re not passed out on the floor? Starting fights with baby deities? Falling prey to savvy ghosts?”
Colin hadn’t realized he would’ve begged for intimacy until right then. Would’ve crawled across hot coals, would’ve swallowed false sainthood, would’ve battled another Marquis of Hell, just for a chance at this.
“It’s never predictable, you know. How a heart reacts to loss. I’ll go three days without thinking about Isabelle, and on the fourth morning I’ll smell her perfume at a café or hear her laughter in someone else’s mouth, and I’ll be catapulted back into the thick of it. I never know when it’ll happen, I can never anticipate how it’ll feel. Some days, I shake off the worst of it. Some days, I’ll find a church to cry in. Some days, I drink. Every day is new, at least. I open my eyes and find a way to live without her.”
“No, wait—I’m sorry, I—I just think . . .” He paused to clear his throat. “I think you should come with me, actually. I mean, if you want to. There’s no reason for you to be stuck in this house, and there’s no reason to force-feed yourself grief, and there’s no reason for me to live without you too. You’re here—you’re right here—you could just come with me . . . You could . . .” Halfway through his terribly ill-thought-out rambling, Bishop had started typing on their iPhone. Heat rushed to his face. “I could certainly use your help with this upcoming case, at least. We could . . . We
...more
BE STILL MY HEART OMG
