Jenn Marie Thorne Quotes

There's no shame in being born. I don't have to apologize for that.

I've gotta go," Andy said, turning to me with a frown. "But listen. Fuck this campaign. Do not let them tell you who you are. You're not an idiot. You're amazing, Kate Quinn. I see you." He nodded at my confused expression. "I saw you right away. That stupid press conference, grabbing that stupid microphone. The real you. You're better than all of them. Jesus . . ." He let out a desperate laugh. "You're even nice to vending machines!

In front of me, Gabe's hands trembled. His face was drained of blood, mouth set in a grim line. "Hey Gabe, hold my hand," I said. He squinted, hesitating, then glanced up at his mom. The makeup girl was dabbing her nose with powder and she didn't look down. I nudged my hand into his balled-up fist and leaned closer. "I'm scared too." He peered up, blinked, and decided to believe me. Why shouldn't he? It was true. My hand was disgustingly clammy, but I think that was comforting to him, proof that I was as terrified as he was. He squeezed it tight.

The senator cleared his throat, uncomfortable. This was probably new to him - the sensation of being ignored. I could've taught him a thing or two about it.

Quinn." The voice on the other end of the line let out a melodramatic groan. "You are one tough person to track down." My body went from hot to cold in a blink. Andy. He'd found me. He'd called. A month too late. I scowled into the flowery wallpaper. "And how did you get this number?" "I don't know if I've mentioned that my dad is the president?" Funny. "Why are you calling me?" "Because I'm finally allowed to.

Nancy herself noted that the fact that Mom had run a food bank and soup kitchen for ten years and that I'd volunteered at the Cocina almost every day after school made for a "great backstory." There was something so hollow about hearing Mom described as a backstory that my breath caught cold in my throat.

I was about to admit to the twins how much braver they were than me, when Gabe cut in quietly. "You never talk about your mom." The twins watched me try to form a response. "It's because I miss her. So every time I talk about her, I get sad." As Gabe took my hand, Gracie stood, sending the last bits of funnel cake scattering onto the ground. "We're your family now.

Next time,' I promised, knowing as I said it that it was a terrible, terrible, wonderful idea.

The Lawrence campaign keeps dropping by. They want us to endorse the president." "You should," I muttered. "Kate!" She made a sound like she was punching me through the phone. "Shut up, you know we're not doing that. Mom and Papi love your dad, especially now. It's not like he did anything to hurt us." "He didn't do anything to help either." "Yeah, he did," she said. "That day at our house. He listened.

Not because of you. You were perfect. Are perfect. You're considerate, moral, brave. But you reminded me…"He couldn't finish.
I swallowed through a dry throat. "Of her."
"No." He blinked. "Of me. Who I used to be. Somebody who would stick up for his friends, even if it was risky. Somebody who put other people first. Somebody who…" He let out a helpless laugh. "Somebody who screwed up a lot.

If I were voting in this election . . ." I shook my head. Then I turned to her. "And honestly, Meg? If you weren't married to him, I don't think you'd vote Cooper either." She let out a little laugh. An admission. And after a moment, she sighed. "He's a good man. That's what I know." "But I don't know that. I don't know him. After three months, I don't know him at all. And . . . I'm not even sure I want to.

But it occurred to me suddenly that trust wasn't an object, not something that arrived on your doorstep, solid and absolute. It was a decision, a leap.