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There was nothing wrong with fire … as long as you didn’t stand too close. Something to keep in mind.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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Becca Fitzpatrick
Age: 45
Born: 1979
Born: February 3
Author
Novelist
Writer
Centerville
Utah
Fire
Wrong
Keep
Didn
Nothing
Long
Mind
Close
Something
Stand
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I cared about us. But the cold hard truth was, nothing I said or did could realign the stars.
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I take that back. If Hank wants to shoot Scott, he has my blessing.
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Nora: What are you planning? Patch: I wouldn't call this planning. I'd call this throwing a Hail Mary with seconds left on the clock.
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You can call me Patch. No really. Call me.
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I learned that I was either crazy in love with you, or putting on the best performance of my life.' -Nora (PG 263)
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It was a smile that spelled trouble. With a promise.
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I swear to you, Nora Grey, on this day, from now and forever, to give myself to you. I am yours. My love, my body, my soul—I place in your possession and protection.” He held out the ring, a single offering, a binding promise. ~ Patch + Nora
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She cleans a toilet inside and out under a minute. More like terrifying
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She shrieked. Nora! What happened to the banister! Good thing she hadn't seen her bedroom yet.
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She'll kill me if she finds you in here. Can you climb trees? Tell me you can climb a tree! Patch grinned, I can fly.
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He tasted deeper, holding himself over me, and suddenly he was everywhere his knee trapping my leg, his lips grazing warm, rough, sensuous. He splayed his hand at the small of my back, holding me tightly, driving me to sink my fingers deeper into him, clinging to him as if letting go would mean losing part of myself.
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He brushed my curls back off my face. “I never pictured my life so complete. I never thought I’d have everything I want. You’re everything to me, Angel.
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I can't imagine why you're so interested. He shook his head. Interested? We're talking about you. I'm fascinated.
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But if the choice I have to make comes down to you or me, I choose you. I always have. All my love, Patch
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Cheshvan starts tonight, Rixon said, What are you doing arsing around in a graveyard? Thinking. Thinking? A process by which I use my brain to make a rational decision.
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And you would have lost. We were surrounded. He threatened your life, and he would have made good on that threat. He had you, and that meant he had me, too.
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I forced a smile. It was the one I'd been practicing all morning. It felt tight at the edges and brittle everywhere in between.
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Fine! I'll throw on some clothes. Turn around. I'm in my pj's I'm a guy. That's like asking a kid not to glance at the candy counter.
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...five minutes from now, when everything else had dropped away and I realized the full impact of what I’d done, I’d feel my heart breaking.
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Hang on, did you just call me Angel? I asked. If I did? I don't like it. He grinned. It stays, Angel.
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