Catherine M. Wilson · 320 pages
Rating: (1.9K votes)
“Your task will be to let your heart grow large enough not to break.”
“Merin smiled. "I fought in battle and your mother bore two children. Of the two of us, I think she was the courageous one.”
“Losing her was the worst of it, but loving her hurt almost as much sometimes.”
“All I can tell you is this. Some hearts break from grief and some from joy. Some even break from love. But hearts break because they are too small to contain the gifts life gives us. Your task will be to let your heart grow large enough not to break.” Namet”
“We trust death to spare us the infirmities of age or the pain of an illness or an injury that is past healing. We trust death to comfort us with forgetfulness of life's sorrows. We trusted that death was a passageway fro life to life.”
“I only wanted her to hold still for a little while, and not to mind that I loved her.”
“I knew what she was doing. Each touch was a question. She was asking me what I would give and what I would withhold, what I would reveal, what I would hide. I had told her that I loved her. Perhaps she was unsure of what I meant, and now she was asking me the questions she couldn’t frame in words. How much of myself would I give her? How much was hers?”
“I wondered how it was possible to be so happy and so miserable all at once.”
“Why is it that wisdom comes to us too late to do us any good?”
“Again and again I asked for permission. May I? Here? And here? Is this too much? Too little? Can you hear me? This is my heart.”
“What the f**k is this?”
Trevor didn’t rise to the bait, as he hadn’t for the last several days. Calmly, he asked,
“What?”
“This.” Edgard threw the pristine, custom-made saddle on the ground within Trevor’s peripheral view.
Shit. How had Edgard found it? And why in the hell had that bastard gone snooping around instead of figuring out what was wrong with Meridian like he’d promised?
“Trev? I asked you a question.”
“You know damn good and well what it is, Ed.”
“I figured you would’ve gotten rid of it by now.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
Edgard practically growled, “That don’t tell me why you still have it. That don’t tell me nothin’.”
Trevor turned his face toward the opposite fence to gaze across to the mountains. His reasons for keeping the saddle seemed sentimental, sloppy and stupid now, but he’d be damned if he’d share those reasons with anyone, least of all Edgard, the man responsible for those feelings.
Bootsteps made a sucking sound in the muck of the corral as Edgard closed the short distance between them. “I ain’t gonna drop it. Answer me.”
“Fine. You said I could do whatever I wanted with it. So I kept it.”
“You didn’t use it at all, did you?”
Trevor shook his head, keeping his eyes averted.
“Why not?”
“I have plenty of other saddles, saddles I like better.”
“That’s a piss-poor excuse. Try again.”
He stayed mum, wishing the damn mud would open up and swallow him like a sinkhole.
“Were you hoping if you kept it I’d come back?”
Trevor’s heart said yes but his mouth stayed tight as a rusty hinge.
“Answer the f**king question, Trevor.”
Edgard’s arrogant streak snapped Trevor’s forced patience. “What do you want me to say? It’s obvious I saved the goddamn saddle.”
“Why?”
“Because it reminded me of you, all right?” He kicked a chunk of mud and stalked away. “Fuck this and f**k you.”
Edgard rattled off something in Portuguese, something Trevor vaguely remembered as being a plea. Or was it a threat?
Dammit. His feet stopped. Trevor’s gaze zeroed in on Edgard, who’d circled him until they were standing less than a foot apart.
“Tell me why.”
Be cruel, that’ll nip this in the bud once and for all.
“I didn’t keep the f**kin’ thing because I had some girlish goddamn hope you’d come back lookin’ for it like Cinderella’s lost glass slipper, and we’d pick up where we left off after you left me.” He locked his eyes to the liquid heat in Edgard’s, not allowing the man to look away. “Especially after you made it crystal clear you weren’t ever comin’ back.”
Angry puffs of breath distorted the air between them.
Several beats passed before Edgard retorted, “But I am here now, aren’t I?”
“What? Am I supposed to be flippin’ cartwheels about that fact? I don’t know what you want from me, Ed. Take the saddle back if that’ll make you happy. I’ve got no use for it. I never did.” Angry, disgusted with himself, Edgard, and the whole uncomfortable situation, Trevor spun and walked toward the barn.
Edgard laughed—the taunting, soft laughter that was guaranteed to raise Trevor’s hackles and his ire. “It’s that easy for you? To get pissed off and walk away?”
“Yep. You’ve got no right to act so goddamned surprised since it’s a trick I learned from you, amigo.”
Not two seconds later, the air left Trevor’s lungs as Edgard tackled him to the ground. Trevor rolled to dislodge the man from his back; Edgard countered, took a swing and missed. Trevor bucked and twisted his shoulders, but Edgard anticipated the move and used the momentum against Trevor to try and shove Trevor’s face against the fence.
Before Edgard cornered him and held him down completely to land a punch, Trevor rolled again and pushed to his feet. A noise echoed behind him, but he ignored it as he fisted his hands in Edgard’s shearling coat, dragging him upright until they were nose to nose.”
“... forgiveness is really just another word for freedom.”
“I intend to keep writing stories that piss people off, that tell the particular kind of truth I think is valid, that will make me feel more and more like a Writer of Stature, Which I honestly think I am, really, I mean it, I don't doubt it for a second dammit, so stop giggling! Stories that will make Dr Shedd sniff the air and make Lester smile as je thinks, "The kid's coming along all right.”
“How did we get here? I’ve asked myself that question many times over the past several days. It’s so easy to get caught up in the chaos of our wants, desires, and forgets that there are consequences to each of our choices. I sit with my best warriors realizing the path that we are on and have no idea how to jump off. I ask myself again, how did we get here? I know the answer, but I am not ready to face my own selfishness.”
“As to blood—ah, blood, the whole subject fascinates me. I do like that as well, warm and dripping, when I am thirsty. And I am often thirsty.”
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