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Barb Gilmour
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“He's painting your living room as a thank you."
"Huh. My decorator might screech, but I'm okay with that."
"Your decorator? Seriously? How did you not know you were gay?”
― Shattered Glass
"Huh. My decorator might screech, but I'm okay with that."
"Your decorator? Seriously? How did you not know you were gay?”
― Shattered Glass
“Knowing what Dan’s face had looked like in Kabul, the night they’d spent in the hotel room. What he’d said. My light, my life, my sanity, my love. Nothing of that had been wrong. Not the sex, the kisses, the teenager oaths of staying together, always, rain, shine, life, death. I’d die for you. Live for me. Hold me. Fucking hold me.”
― Special Forces - Mercenaries Part I
― Special Forces - Mercenaries Part I
“Let me know when you're done with this conversation. Peter needs his tongue bath. I mean sponge bath.”
― Shattered Glass
― Shattered Glass
“Tease,” Ty accused softly.
“Do I have your attention now?” Zane drawled.
“You never lost it,” Ty responded before thinking better of it.”
― Cut & Run
“Do I have your attention now?” Zane drawled.
“You never lost it,” Ty responded before thinking better of it.”
― Cut & Run
“I looked at our hands, caked and coated in red, but entwined. The pristine moment when they were clasped like that earlier in the day seemed weeks ago.
"Clean." Peter said.
"Can I get a water bottle or something to clean his hands?" I scanned the crowd. He drew my attention back to him with a pull of my hand.
"No," Peter said. "I'm...clean."
I had missed who Peter was until that very moment.
I had called him names and treated him callously. I had read every micro expression in a vacuum of how it related to Austin Glass. And in return Peter had cared for my wounds, treated me tenderly and assured me that he was HIV negative while bleeding out in a hallway of strangers.
I broke. It wasn't a visible fracture. I didn't sob or explode into anguish. I didn't give in to my vomitus urge that came from the burst of self-loathing. But I shattered nonetheless.”
― Shattered Glass
"Clean." Peter said.
"Can I get a water bottle or something to clean his hands?" I scanned the crowd. He drew my attention back to him with a pull of my hand.
"No," Peter said. "I'm...clean."
I had missed who Peter was until that very moment.
I had called him names and treated him callously. I had read every micro expression in a vacuum of how it related to Austin Glass. And in return Peter had cared for my wounds, treated me tenderly and assured me that he was HIV negative while bleeding out in a hallway of strangers.
I broke. It wasn't a visible fracture. I didn't sob or explode into anguish. I didn't give in to my vomitus urge that came from the burst of self-loathing. But I shattered nonetheless.”
― Shattered Glass
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