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ebook
First published July 30, 2013






~Losing my voice in the accident was akin to losing my identity, and although I try to put on a brave front, inside, I am anything but.~
~“A tiny voice inside my head reminds me to just breathe. Inhale, one, two, three. Hold, one, two, three. Exhale, one, two, three. Repeat.” ~

~"It's ok Sunshine, I've got you," he murmurs. "Go on and cry like nobody's watching. I'll be your rock." ~
~Sometimes, I feel there are two personalities at war inside my brain competing for top filing. It's like trying to put together a thousand- piece puzzle where five hundred or so of the pieces have mysteriously vanished. ~


As much as he knew how to push my buttons and infuriate me, I loved Dalton Morgan to the edge of time and back. I was convinced that there never had been, nor would ever be, anyone else for me.
I craved his closeness like summer crops craved rain.
”Ray, you’ll always have a little piece of my heart,” he said, suddenly serious. “Don’t ever leave me babe. Without your voice, my music is nothing.”
There are times I think I’d rather have no memories at all. Then I wouldn’t have to know how much I miss Dalton’s easygoing style. How his fingers bled from practicing the guitar. His soft, gentle knuckle kisses. The way we fought like kids over a piece of candy or the delicious make-up sex we had afterwards.
…”most days, I’ve been a bitch with a capital C. Because truthfully, what do I have to be happy about? I’m alive? Give me a break.
Even though I struggle to remember some things, I have had no problem figuring out that Dalton Morgan has been the air that I breathed and the love of my life. I probably would have signed up for a one-way trip to Mars, if it meant being with him.
I’m cold an I’m tired, and even though I know one thing would cure both of these problems, I’m not ready for sleep to find me. I know that once I finally give in, I’ll dream. Not dreams of kittens and puppies, or running naked through a wide open field chasing butterflies. No, my dreams are about things like broken glass and blood and squealing tires. One of the worst things about having nightmares is my inability to scream myself awake.

”No, Ian. I’m the selfish one. This isn’t all about me. I get that. I want you so bad, if I could scream, I would. Every time I see you with Emmy, the ice around my heart thaws a little bit more.”
"The next time I kiss you, I’m not stopping,” his voice is low and rough. His thumbs trace the contours of my cheeks. It’s a moment so completely tender my eyes fill involuntarily and I blink up at him. I nearly shatter to pieces when he tells me, “So I’m not going to kiss you right now. I can’t promise you when it will happen. Just know that I’ve never wanted anything as much as I do you."