Why was I the lucky one getting haunted by the gangster of Christmas past?
I won’t let anything happen to you – I swear on my life, I’ll protect you until the day I die.
I’m talking about a different type of madness. The kind that follows you into your dreams, only to haunt you when you’re awake. A madness that sucks joy out of every good thing in life and makes you feel guilty about smiling.
Just know. I love you. With every fiber of my being.
You’re mine, Blake, you hear me? Mine.” “Yes.” She gasped, pulling my head down, her lips meeting mine with desperation. “Yes.
To make eye contact with Sergio Abandonato was to know both pain and beauty simultaneously. I.
I ignored the dark circles under her eyes, just like I ignored the clenching in my stomach that she was starting to bruise more around her hands.
Life,” Max said, spreading his arms wide, “is like a box of chocolates.” I rolled my eyes. “I think I know how this ends.” “You buy the box because you think you want variety, but if you’re really honest with your greedy little self, all you really want are the caramel ones. But they don’t sell chocolates that way, so you do what everyone else does. You follow the crowd and try ones you know you’re going to hate. Why?” I swallowed. “Because you’re trying to find the caramel ones.
Her last request was that you’d know she was innocent. She says in her death she hopes she can prove her loyalty has always, unequivocally been yours.
I eat, I think of you. I drink, I drink to you. I cry, so you don’t have to. I’d die, for you to live. And I’d survive with a broken heart only if it meant mending yours.
Because no matter how damn bad I wanted to be the guy sharing her present, I’d lost that opportunity the minute I walked away in her past.
There were no words in the English language to describe how much life it sucked out of a person – how it still hurt, years later, how you still heard that person’s voice and woke up running into the kitchen only to realize that they weren’t ever coming back.
Lisa, if I could take that hurt from you and carry it for the rest of my life, I would. I know that’s not how life works, but know I’d do it in an instant. If I could take all that guilt and shame? There would be no hesitation, but because I can’t, at least let me hold your hand while you walk through it.
A day ago I was worried he’d look the other way if a car was barreling toward me. Now... well, now it felt like he would do anything to keep me close – almost as if he’d lost me before and knew what it felt like to be without me. But that was crazy. Clearly I’d never been kissed like that before, because my mind was conjuring up all sorts of crazy stories. I needed to stop reading so much.
Remember? I’m the one who keeps you safe. I’m the one that would die for you and all that? why, want me to prove my loyalty?
You show true friends the ugly – and trust them enough to turn it into something beautiful.
It’s in the fight that you prove your worth.
That’s stupid.” I laughed into his chest. “Boys can’t save girls.” “You’re right.” He kissed my temple. “It’s the other way around.
You look beautiful,” I said honestly. “Scary beautiful. The type of beautiful that guys are afraid to touch. The type of beautiful that makes men want to risk everything for one taste, one touch, one night. Mix that with your brains, and you’re the epitome of why men fight wars.
Denial happens when you realize it shouldn’t be you, that even if your brain connected the dots, it isn’t yet your time. The lovely little memories of your life start to play on repeat in your head – the moments you should have done something but didn’t, the things you’ll never say, the things you’ll never do.