Fawn by Nash Summers

“I don’t need a chance at Heaven. I just need a chance with you.”

***This book breaks my heart. It's so beautiful, it hurts.

One of the most beautiful book I have ever read.***



I was falling apart since the first Rust's letter to 'the ghost'...
This flamboyant, beautiful man with a heart of an angel, makes me loved him, ache for him. For what he kept for so many years in waiting...for his 'ghost' to come home.

You're what I reach out for, but just can't seem to touch.
You're those hours of silence that pull themselves longer until there's nothing left of them but a faint memory of a Once Upon a Time.
But don't worry _, I won't forget you like you've forgotten me.
I can't stop fawning over your ghost.

I cried for what Rust and Ancel had been through. How love is finally find the way to their happiness after all the years of suffering...after years of loneliness.

The waiting is amazing. The love they'd shared from the beginning, from the first glance, a first kiss...the lightening...it's so beautiful.

You gave me a necklace yesterday and made me promise to hold on to it. I’ll hold on to it forever.

The love they've shared, is so soft, so quite and wonderful. And I believed, after all those loneliness and all those waiting, my Ancel and Rust will live happily ever after.

It's just a true love that really happened. Love they're shared is innocent and pure.

Ancel closed the distance between us, wrapping his warm arms around me, pulling me tight against his chest. Nothing in the world was wrong. Everything was right.

OMG. This is just too beautiful to ignore. Read it.
JUST.READ.IT.

I don’t understand you. Sometimes I wish I did, though. Everyone else is so black and white. But you sing to the birds in the trees and talk to pinecones when you think no one else is around, and you dance and twirl and spin in the rain.
Who are you, Rust?

Why do you wear feathers and flowers laced into your hair? My dad says it’s not right for boys to wear flowers in their hair. I think he must be wrong, because they look like the Earth sprung them from the ground just so you could wear them in your hair,

 
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
 Nash Summers rarely has any idea what she’s doing. But, when she likes to pretend, she pretends by writing stories at the pace of drying paint. And if that wasn’t exhilarating enough, Nash enjoys absolute silence, general politeness, and waiting her turn in line.
Needless to say—she’s a genuine hellraiser.