Orgeron Quotes

The heart you’re ignoring is sitting on your sleeve, bleeding freely.

that kid may not carry my DNA, but by God, I don’t care. I love that little shit like my own and I want to be his daddy.

I’m sorry are only words unless you know what you’re apologizing for.

Love is supposed to be enough. It’s not supposed to rip you to fucking shreds.

For the moment, we’re right back there in the place we created, where we are perfect. Where our souls line up without any visible smudges on the seams.

Yeah, thanks, Gina,” Clarissa chimes in. “Now they’ll all think I’m a ho.” “If the shoe fits, lace that bitch up.

She’s not ready and maybe she never will be, but I won’t stop trying. I’ll be patient if it kills me. I can just see it now. Cooper Hebert died of blue balls and a broken heart.

For the first time since I was stupid enough to let you go, there is nothing but fear standing in our way. Be brave with me, Spence.

I want the strings. I want the ball and fucking chain. I want to be so tied to you that you can’t ever slip away from me again.

Those ties...those ties are forever, and I never wanted to be connected to any other person so permanently. Forever was always meant for you and me, Spence.

As if she’s somehow heard my inner ramblings, her eyes meet mine in the mirror, and for that moment, in the middle of the desert, I get lost in ocean blue.

Marry the one you’re running toward... not the one you’re running from.

She’s not in love,” Spence answers in a mocking tone. “The girl done went and got dickstruck.

I’ll take stolen kisses and trysts in the cane fields for as long as I live over a life without you in it.

My breath catches in my throat as a chill makes me shiver, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. My eyes latch on to his, pleading with him to kiss me.

How ’bout you take this Cajun injector here,” I say, gripping the steel rod in his shorts, “and give me a shot of protein instead.

I find blow jobs to be highly respectable. In fact, I can’t think of many things I respect more than your lips around my cock.

I want to rip the rest of those buttons open and climb him like a monkey in a banana tree. Oh God, what I would do with his banana...

He’s so fucking unconventionally perfect. I don’t know whether I want to kick him in the balls or lick his face.

my heart breaks into a million tiny pieces for this man, who lost the love of his life.

Mrs. Elaine crosses herself, mumbling a string of curses beneath her breath. The sign of the cross and a string of profanities… that about sums this woman up perfectly, God love her.

Fuck. I don’t remember her being so scary. She’s got those momma eyes down to a T, yet, somehow...on her, they are hot as hell. The term M.I.L.F. now makes all the sense in the world.

Soft touches turn frantic. Gentle kisses become bruising. Rapid breaths progress to sensual moans. I allow the moment to completely take me; getting lost in the way her body responds to mine.

My mouth crashes onto hers, and as our bodies sway in time to the music, our tongues dance to a rhythm that’s all their own. Spencer tastes of liquor and spearmint gum. She smells like heaven.

Isn’t this the kind of thing boyfriends do?” She fans her lashes. “I need you, Wyatt.” Well, hell. “Fine,” I growl. “But only because I have a really big soft spot for those baby blues of yours.

Spence,” he says as he lifts his brown eyes to meet mine. “You still make it hard to breathe.” “And you,” I say, swallowing as I try to rein in my overeager heart, “are still the same old charmer you always were.

for a moment, I stand in the doorway, watching the steady rise and fall of their chests. I listen to the gentle hum of their breaths and I wonder when my little babies started to turn into men. And I pray. I pray that my boys will be good men. That they will know how to treat the women in their lives, and more than anything, I pray to God that they will be good fathers, despite the fact that they’ve had no one to show them how.

Taking her tiny hand into both of mine, I lift it to my chest, placing it right over my racing heart. “You feel that?” I rasp, swallowing hard. Her head bobs. “That’s yours. It’s always been. So, the next time you try to convince yourself that you know what’s best for me, I want you to remember what you feel when we’re together.” I touch the pads of my first two fingers to her neck, feeling her pulse flutter against my skin. “I feel it, too.

Tear filled eyes glisten in the firelight. She’s so fucking beautiful that it hurts to look at her, but it’s an ache I hope to feel for as long as I live, because the pain of losing her again...that I don’t think I’d survive.

through the screen door I find all three of my boys throwing a ball around the yard with Cooper. My heart bursts in my chest. Just explodes. It physically hurts to feel so much all at once. It’s like I’m staring at a movie of what my life—our life—could have been.

H—his hand is all up under there, and he’s poking his ball sack, so I’m all, ‘What the hell are you doing, Kyle?’ and he lifts his head, serious as shit, and says, ‘Remember when I told you I losed my marbles? I musta swallowed two of ’em, cuz I found ’em. They’re in my nuts!’ 

One in five gets diagnosed with PTSD.” I nod. I know that. “One in five, Katy. Do you know how many American soldiers there are?” “Not sure.” “A million point three. I looked it up last night, and that’s just the army.” I sit there, stunned, as she goes on. One in five. One in five. “Right now, two hundred thousand are homeless. Some can’t adapt back into their old lives. Some never even make it home after they get off the bus.” I stew on her words. I know this is to give me a point of reference for my own progress, but my empathy is winning, and my heart is breaking. She looks at me pointedly. “Twenty-two soldiers kill themselves every single day.

Kiss me,” I breathe out against his lips. His mouth moves over mine. His kiss is soft, gentle, and exquisitely slow. Our breaths mingle as we take our time exploring forgotten territory. Last night, at the bar, this man’s tongue may have fucked my mouth. But this...this kiss is filled with heart and soul...and so much longing.

You’re stupid. First of all, I need for you to know that.” “Uhhh, thanks?” “That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. What could possibly be more romantic than the man of your dreams swooping in like a white knight? This is your fucking fairytale, bitch, and you’re about to let it slip away...” Gina growls in frustration. Add a note

Momma doesn’t let me play with hers. Now I can practice for when I’m a mortician!” Hmm. Maybe she’s not faking after all. “Maw-Maw…Mimi…think I could practice on y’all after breakfast?” And. I. Am. Dead. She actually just asked the two oldest women in the room if she could use them as guinea pigs to hone her mortuary makeup skills. This kid is fucking brilliant.

Tough I fully realize the gravity of the situations I am being placed in, I’m essentially just a boy living out his childhood dreams… playing the ultimate game of war. I always wanted to be a hero. To get the bad guys. That may make me a sick fuck, but there have to be men like me out there. You don’t enlist into infantry without that inherent urge to shoot something and the desire to blow shit up.

What did you just call him?” “Rufus is a stupid name,” she says with a shrug. I choke on air. “Excuse me?” “You heard me. What even is a Rufus anyway?” “A name,” I answer. “A manly name for a manly dog.” “He looks like vanilla ice cream with chocolate sprinkles. It had to be changed.” “You can’t just change a dog’s name. He’s eight months old. He likes his name. He knows it.” “Does he?” she asks, arching a brow. Jesus, she looks so much like her mother right now it’s almost scary. “Rufus.” I whistle. “Come here boy.” He lets out a whimper, but stays rooted in place, his eyes trained on the girl with the snacks. “Sprinkles, come.” Priss points to the floor. That traitor rises to all fours, looking more regal than Queen Elizabeth herself as he marches to her side. Man’s best friend, my ass. “Good boy,” she says, stuffing another treat into his mouth. “Sprinkles, sit.” He sits. “Shake,” she says, holding out her hand for his paw. “You taught him all of that in less than two hours?” “Uh-huh. Wasn’t hard. I watched some dog training videos.” “Let me guess, YouTube?” She grins. “Well, it worked.” “I see that.” “So…Sprinkles?” She steeples her hands in front of her face, poking out her lip for added drama. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of how my beast of a dog became a pansy.

For now, my heart is the reckless navigator, and I, a reluctant passenger, unable to escape the way I love him.

Chapter

our cruise director just happened to be recruiting eight men to compete in a lip sync battle.

rendition of “Supermodel (You Better Work)” by none other than RuPaul!

I fall forward, in what feels like slow motion, landing with my face right in the lap of an older gentleman sporting a bright blue Speedo. To make matters worse—you mean it actually gets worse than a face full of wrinkled, hairy balls? Yes. Yes, it does, because I can’t get up. Blinding pain shoots up my leg from my rolled ankle.

Think that’s why all the princesses and fairies carry wands?” “What the hell are you talking about?” “You know . . . so they could have a magic stick of their own. I bet old Walt was feeling sorry for us when he designed the wand.” She holds an imaginary scepter in her fingers and swirls it around the air above us. “You know . . .” I yawn, feeling sleep threaten to take me. “You may be on to somethin’, bestie.” “Course I am,” Gina says through a yawn of her own. “Why do you think they call dildos wands?

As I close my eyes, one thought runs through my head, felt with the deepest conviction. I’m going to love you, Katy Scott.

Trauma creates change you don’t choose. Healing is about creating change you do choose.

In those ocean blues, I see an apology, and my heart plummets. She regrets it. We’ll never be more than what we were before that phone rang, before her life called her back.

I want you, Tink. God, I want you in every fucking way. I want you in my house and in my bed. At my breakfast table and sitting beside me at church on Sundays. I want your girly shit littering the counters in my bathroom and your soap in my shower.

Orgeron hates dead air. He feeds off energy. As in, energy is enthusiasm…enthusiasm breeds confidence…and confidence leads to winning. Silence, conversely, creates lulls, and lulls make people passive. And passivity? Absolutely, utterly forbidden in Ed Orgeron’s world.

Yes!” she shouts, tackling me to the floor. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Cooper James.

This vacation is the dumbest idea I’ve ever had. Vangie’s got a boyfriend, I twisted my ankle, my dick got puked on, and I was sexually harassed by a fucking dolphin.

I’d rather pull my twat hairs out with tweezers than procreate with you.” “Ouch.” “Now get on with it before I remember I’m still mad at you.” Such a fucking lady.

embarrassed by her tears, and that affects me so much. She shouldn’t be ashamed of her grief. I hate that society has made her feel this way. It’s only been three months. But isn’t that the way things work? People use up all their sympathy and understanding in the first few days and weeks, and then they move on. They expect you to do the same. Suddenly your sadness makes everyone else uncomfortable, so you hide it. You hide it deep inside and let it eat away at you.

I’m living some version of the world’s most fucked-up fairytale.

No! Who does that, Gertie? I mean, if he loved me . . . why? Why would he do that?

I'm hoping for cloudy skies.

And there we sit – two soldiers, trained to be the toughest of the tough and the bravest of the brave – our bodies collectively trembling in fear.

Love is supposed to be enough. It's not supposed to rip you to fucking shreds.

Run far and fast, dance that sexy dance, have that second baby. Smile, Scottie. Lighten up, tell jokes, live a long and happy life, for me.

You’d think I’d enjoy having the chance to go out and hook up, but I’m left feeling so hollow the next morning. It’s at those times I miss my wife more than ever—where I mourn the intimacy that goes along with sex when there are feelings involved.

I am two different women, living in two separate worlds, in love with two different soldiers.

You were destined to be a part of my life. You’ve changed me. No matter where this journey takes us, when I close my eyes, it will be your face I see. When I breathe my last breath, your name will be on my lips.

I’m not watching you do it again. I can survive being a soldier, I can survive another war, but it seems I can’t survive loving you. If I have to let you go, you have to let me go too.” He leans in on a whisper. “I love you, Katy, let me go.

You taught me how to love, and I don’t think this heart is ever going to let me quit you. There are only two things in life I’m sure of: my love of this country and my love for you, only one can I do anything about.

He can hardly look his cousin in the face. I’ve never seen him so off kilter. “I did not want to see that, Kore. Jesus, haven’t you ever heard of a bra?