(If you missed my post on Me Before You, go here first.)
Well, I didn’t break down this time. My Kleenex box is still half full. And I’m thankfully headache-free.
But my breath had caught a lot. There were many heart-wrenching moments. A couple spots where tears filled my eyes. Then there was this line, oh this line, and the tears grew too large to be contained: “Her smile was like his.”
I mourned alongside Lou with every single page. My emotions see-sawed back and forth just like hers. Heart breaking in one to shoddily repaired in the next where I was able to manage a smile maybe even a hoarse chuckle. And I have to say once again, damn, that was a good fucking book.
The moment I finished reading Me Before You, I rented the movie from Amazon.
Not caring that it was already 1:45 a.m.
Not bothering to stop and wash the itchy dryness off of my cheeks from all the tears.
Not pausing to try and blow my completely stuffed nose.
And even though the book left me despondent and wanting to scream IT’S NOT FAIR!, I frantically clicked play because I didn’t want those feelings to end.
For the next hour and fifty minutes I cried, laughed, smiled, and sobbed my heart out. When the credits finally rolled, I was completely wrecked. My eyes had shed so many tears that they actually hurt. I had a massive headache that Aleve wasn’t going to cure. But I gently closed my laptop and said with a thick scratchy voice, “Damn that was a good fucking book.”
I recently re-read The Host by Stephenie Meyer and again teared up when I read my favorite line.
“Ian squeezed my hand and leaned in to whisper through all the hair. His voice was so low that I was the only one who could hear. ‘I held you in my hand, Wanderer. And you were so beautiful.'”
Ah, even now there’s a stirring in my heart at those words.
Do you have a favorite line?
I need a button on my Kindle that will choose the most specialist book from my library. A READ THIS NEXT! book.
Dear reader, here’s the next book you should read. You’ll fall in love with the characters, become immersed in the story world. You won’t want to stop reading. The real world will just fall away. This novel will become your most favorite ultimate stress reliever book.
Yep, I need a button like that. Kindle Coding Guys, can you get working on it for me? Please.
I was at the mall the other day.
Saw three boys wearing black slacks, white button downs, and black ties.
OMG, that could totally be Kota, Victor, and Luke. Does that mean the Academy really is a real thing?!?
When I spied them again in the parking lot racing to “Kota’s” car, I took a picture. They were really moving, as if they had someplace to be. As if they had Academy business!
I had the strongest desire to follow them so I could meet all the Academy boys! Squee! That would be so totally awesome!
As I sat in my car staring at the picture, a thought drifted in. This could be considered creepy. And possibly illegal because these boys all look (and if they are really, truly from the Academy) underage. And I’m not so much underage anymore…
I deleted the picture.
Regret filled me as I drove home.
I totally should’ve followed them! Maybe I can start staking out the mall. They might return… At some point…
Goodreads should have a re-read shelf. As a reader, I want my re-reads to count toward my yearly total. As an author, I’d be absolutely delighted to learn a reader is re-reading one of my books.
How do you handle re-reads on Goodreads? Do you use Goodreads at all?
It’s here! It’s here!
In celebration, I’m gifting you an excerpt from my just released Fallen Death (The Trihune Series Book 3). Enjoy! 🙂
Asjhone pulled the sheet up to the patient’s waist. Her eyes trailed over his face, pausing at the scars again. Though healed, they more than likely caused discomfort whenever he smiled, laughed, yawned. Maybe every time he spoke. She wanted to touch him, offer comfort.
Her perusal continued. Chest, arms. She leaned closer, examined the tattoos sleeving his arms. A spider web on both elbows. Large grim reaper on his left bicep, partially blocked by the BP cuff. Other skeleton faces on both forearms. An old world scripted B with three interlocking circles on his right upper arm.
People didn’t look scary when they were unconscious. The scars on his face drew her sympathy, but with the number of tattoos—the types of tattoos—it was safe to assume he lived a hard life.
Her gaze trailed down his chest and abs again. How many hours a day did this guy work out?
She pressed her lips together. Made herself step back. Ogling patients was not cool. Especially when they might be seriously injured. Or a little crazy. Why did he want to kill himself? She eyed his cheeks again. Had those been self-inflicted?
Asjhone eyed the machine near the side of the bed. His blood pressure was still too high. “What internal secrets are you keeping?” If they didn’t figure it out soon, there was no way the patient would last the night, especially if he didn’t regain consciousness. She stripped off her gloves and after a moment’s hesitation, brushed the back of her hand across his cheek. “There’s always something worth living for. You just haven’t found yours yet.”
After one more glance to make sure the bed rails were in the up position, Asjhone turned to leave. She’d check on that x-ray call.
A hand wrapped her wrist. She gasped. Whirled. A pair of confused, pain-filled eyes bounced from her to the room then back to her.
“The children?” The patient croaked.
“You’re okay,” she soothed. “Do you know what happened?”
“The children? In the park.”
“I don’t know about any children.”
His forehead crinkled.
“No children were brought in,” she said softly. “Only you. You’re at the hospital. Astoria Memorial. You were brought in by ambulance.”
The patient didn’t respond. Just continued to stare at her.
“You’re lucky to be alive.” She paused. “Let me call the doctor.” Asjhone stepped away, planning to hit the button against the wall to alert the nurses at the hub, but didn’t make it very far. He still had a tight, not painful, hold on her arm. She pulled gently. He didn’t release his grip.
Her heart skipped a beat. Fears rose. She pushed it away. He was disoriented. “It’s okay. I’m not going to leave. I just want to press that button on the wall. Get the doctor in here. She needs to look at you.”
“No.” The one word was brusque, full of command.
Anxiety spiked. She tried to yank her arm free. “Let go.” Would she be able to pull the emergency cord by the front of the bed before he . . . did whatever he wanted to do with her? Oh, God.
“Let me go!”
He released her wrist so suddenly she almost fell. Instead, she only stumbled a few steps. He rose, hand outstretched as if to reach for her again.
His hand fell to the bed. Face expressionless. Gaze still on her.
The room filled with the sound of her heavy breaths, until the blood pressure cuff around his upper arm began to fill with air. Her eyes moved to the machine. “You shouldn’t be sitting up. Lie down. You could have internal bleeding.”
Before she finished speaking, he’d pulled the oximeter off his finger. Next, the cuff around his bicep. When he fumbled for the brace around his neck, Asjhone leapt into action, fears forgotten. She grabbed his hands. “Stop.”
“Lie down.” She grasped his shoulders, pushed gently.
It was as if he’d been given a shot of Ativan; his body became liquid, eyelids falling to half-mast. As soon as her patient was prone, she pushed the button on the wall.
He lay still on the bed. Made no attempt to sit up or remove his neck brace. His eyes were on her. Her fear from earlier had abated, but his stare unnerved her.
It was okay. Help was on the way.
She placed the oximeter back on his index finger. When he didn’t object, she refitted the blood pressure cuff, as well.
“I’d like to check your heart now.” She waited until he nodded before removing the stethoscope from her pocket. After warming the end against her palm, she set it on his chest. Her eyes trailed up to meet his gaze. Then stayed while she listened to the too fast beating of his heart.
Since he’d regained consciousness, she’d barely noticed his scars. His gaze held all the power.
“Do you hurt anywhere?” She removed the stethoscope and put it back in her pocket.
“Your pulse is very high. And BP. Blood pressure,” she amended. “That’s not a good sign.”
“I’m fine. They’re always high.”
“Are you on medication for it?” She paused. Some medication prescribed by psychiatrists had those side effects. “Any medication?”
The male shook his head.
“What’s your name?”
“It’s nice to meet you, Sarid. I’m Asjhone.”