Too bad the freedom seemed like a prison. As his boots hit the mosaic floor at the bottom of the stairs, John Mellencamp's old-school, bic-lighter anthem echoed in his head-and though he'd always like the song okay, he'd never truly understood what it meant. Kind of wished that were still the case. Life goes on...long after the thrill of living is gone.
J.R. WardIโm talking to you more than I speak with my mahmen.โ โI thought your mother was dead.โ โShe is.โ โYou have a very low standard for communication.
J.R. WardBut then, gifts are like beauty, are they not. It is in the eye of the recipient that they find their seat, not in the hand of the giver.
J.R. WardThe Brother's eyes narrowed. "But here's something to keep in mind. You ever hurt him on purpose and I will consider you my enemy.
J.R. WardAs the Brotherhood got down to business, he found himself putting his hand on the dogโs big head and stroking the soft furโฆplaying with an earโฆdipping down and ๏ฌnding the long waves that ๏ฌowed from the animalโs broad, strong chest. Not that any of that meant he was keeping the the animal, of course. It just felt nice, was all.
J.R. Ward