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Quote by Becca Fitzpatrick

“Patch's eyes made a slow assessment of me, sharpening to vivid black. "I'm going to have a hard time sending you off with Scott in that dress. Just a heads-up: If you come home and the dress looks even slightly tampered with, I will track Scott down, and when I find him, it won't be pretty.”

Quote by Becca Fitzpatrick

Book:Silence

Work

Silence

This novel delves into the struggles of a young Portuguese Jesuit priest who faces the challenges of his faith and the harsh realities of missionary work in Japan. Set against the backdrop of religious conflict and cultural clash, the story examines the complexities of belief and the human capacity for resilience. more

Author

Becca Fitzpatrick
Becca Fitzpatrick

Becca Fitzpatrick is an American author known for her young adult literature. Born on February 3, 1979, she graduated from the University of California, Los Angeles. Her works are celebrated for their rich imagination and emotional depth, appealing to a wide audience of young readers. more

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“I nearly had a cakegasm at the table. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I moaned. "Sweet Christ." I opened my eyes to find Hunter watching me with the strangest expression on his face. "What? It's really good; you should try some," I said, pushing the plate at him. It was a testament of how embarrassed I was about the cakegasm that I was even sharing at all. "I swear, if there weren't a table between us, I would be kissing you right now. And none too gently." I put my form down and swallowed so I wouldn't choke. "You didn't seem to mind about the recliner," I said. "True. But there wan't an audience, and that's a very ugly recliner. This is a very nice table. Also there is glass and sharp things I wouldn't want hurting you." "Good point. Please, have some." "If you're going to make that noise and that face again, I don't know if I can let you have any more." "I'll be good. I swear." "You're not good. That's the problem." "You're right. I'm not," I said, giving him my own smirk. "I do try, though." "Cruel. That's the word to describe you right now." "Just have some cake.”

“You can stay on the porch. Like how you left me on the floor outside our room." "I didn't know what else to do. You found the check, and I panicked." "That isn't an excuse." "I know. And I'm not saying that this is going to make up for it. I'm going to try, really try, to make you trust me again. I want you to trust me. I just... I couldn't sleep last night without you. It was the strangest thing, being in the room alone without you. I couldn't hear you breathing, and your laughter was gone and you were gone, and it was like a part of my life was missing. A big part. I tripped going to the bathroom and banged my head. See?" He pointed to a lovely gash on his forehead. "And then I burned my hand on the toaster oven. And then my car wouldn't start. Again. I've never had such bad luck in my life.”

“I thought if you wore that, no matter what face you saw every morning in the mirror," he said in his deep voice, "you'll never forget who you really are." My eyes filling with tear, I held my hand out across the tabletop. He grasped my fingers, his grip strong and reassuring. "As if I ever could," I said, my voice clogged with emotion, "with you around to remind me.”