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“You should have been there!” I snarl, but I have no idea why. I was never at a church. I am shaking violently. I feel like I might explode. He drops to the floor on his knees in front of me and grabs my shoulders. “I know I should have!” he snarls back. “How the fuck many times do you think I’ve relived that night?” I beat at him with my fists, hard. I punch him and punch him. “Then why weren’t you?” I shout.
My. HEART.
Don’t confuse intensity of emotion with quality of emotion,
Strength wasn’t about being able to do everything alone. Strength was knowing when to ask for help and not being too proud to do it.
“Only because you seem to keep forgetting who saved your ass.” Unfortunately, not the many things he’d done to it.
Growing up, I knew my parameters. I was pretty enough that one of the class jocks would always ask me to prom, but I’d never score the quarterback. I was smart enough to squeak into college, but I’d never be a brain surgeon. I could lift my own aluminum-framed bike off the ceiling rack in the garage, but I couldn’t budge my dad’s bike that he’d had since law school. There’s comfort in knowing your limits. It’s a safety zone. Most people find theirs, get in it, and stay there for the rest of their lives. That’s the kind of life I thought I was going to live. There’s a fine line between being
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“Your bookstore?” He snorted. Then he laughed. “Walk out of this with your parents, the stones, and Darroc dead, Ms. Lane, and I’ll give you the bloody thing.” I felt suddenly breathless. “Are we talking figurative or literal?” “Literal. Lock, stock, and barrel.” “Deed and all?” My heart hammered. I loved BB&B. “To the store. Not my garage or car collection.” “In other words, you’ll always be out back, breathing down my neck,” I said dryly. “Never doubt it.” He gave me a wolf smile. “Throw in the Viper?” “And the Lamborghini.”
I hate Jericho Barrons...but i love Jericho Barrons.
the heart had reasons of which reason knew nothing, the only quote of Pascal’s
