#tommy radiates younger sibling energy and i love him for it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

psychedelic-ink · 1 year

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𝐏𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚 𝐃𝐚𝐲 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre!outbreak joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn

word count: 3.1k

summary: Months after the move you're trying to paint again. But you lack the motivation to do so. Thankfully, Sarah comes over and keeps you company until Tommy and Joel come over to pick her up.

warnings: brief themes of grief, tommy radiating younger sibling energy and being a menace, fluff

a/n: thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed the prologue and a special thank you to @pedrito-friskito who edited the chapter, love you! 💜💜💜

prologue || chapter two

The dust lingers in the air, a constant reminder of what once was. You see flecks of it dancing in the beams of light that pour through the window, illuminating the room with a hazy glow. The smell of dust permeates every corner, fills your lungs. There are still boxes stacked in your room. Some of them waiting to be unpacked and some of them waiting to be filled.

Looking through your grandfather’s old knick-knacks had been a harder task than you thought. You found pictures, lots of them. From his past, from his now. You even found a picture of yourself from when you were a kid; laughing in the sun with mud all over your face. You had promised him the perfect garden. At the end of the day, it was far from it but he still said that it was.

Your fingers clench around the brush you’re holding. An hour ago you decided to use the grief to make something of it. You had a heaping amount of black and red paint poured onto the pallete, untouched.

You shake your head, agitated. You really shouldn’t be wasting paint. It’s not like you can afford to continuously buy supplies.

You’re staring deeply into the blank canvas when a loud knock jars you back to reality. You can feel a burn in your eyes, taunting you for the wasted hour spent sitting idly without so much as a brushstroke to show for it.

“For fuck’s sake,” you grumble under your breath while heading to the door. Your eyes linger on the window, it’s a clear day out, which now you decide to point all your anger at. If it was raining, it would be different. You would have the proper ambiance to be inspired.

Without looking, you open the door, your eyes immediately dropping to the girl standing on your porch. “Sarah?”

“Sorry for barging in,” she says with a sheepish grin. “I forgot my keys and dad isn’t home yet. Can I come inside?”

Dad. Joel.

You blink before smiling. You take a step to the side as a wordless invite. She steps inside with grace, her shoes blinking pink and purple. It’s hard to stifle a giggle, which earns you a quizzical look from her.

You point to her feet, “Nice kicks,”

“Oh,” her eyes lit up, leaving her heel glued to the hardwood floors, she lifted her foot. “Aren’t they cool? Azra offered we trade shoes for the day.”

"Veeery nice," you nod, but as Sarah turns to head further inside, you clear your throat. "Shoes off," you remind her.

“Right, sorry.”

You make your way to the kitchen, Sarah follows closely behind, taking off her blinking shoes as she goes. You stretch up on your toes and open the cupboard, searching for Sarah's preferred brand of tea.

Since you moved in and formed close bonds with the Miller family, both Tommy and Sarah have been regular visitors to your home. You enjoy their company. It was nice to talk to people instead of obsessing over your muses that had clearly abandoned you.

You pull out the box of apple cinnamon tea and place it on the counter. Joel never stops by. You only see him whenever he comes over to pick up Sarah and that’s pretty much it. Sometimes you send cookies via Sarah and the next day she would tell you he enjoyed them. You aren’t quite sure if Joel is just reserved or if he just didn’t like you that much, but no matter what it is, the rest of the family seems to enjoy your presence. Which is all a neighbor could ask for.

The staccato drumming of Sarah’s fingers against the wooden table pulls you back. You turn on the kettle, a soft steam filling the kitchen.

“Your uncle Tommy is going to stop by too,” you say, leaning back and crossing your arms. “I’m assuming you’re dad is with him?”

“Yeah, but it’s pizza day today so my dad will probably force them to stop by the supermarket to grab some stuff,” she lets her head fall onto her hands and adds. “If he doesn’t forget, that is. You should join us,”

The water comes to a boil, forcing you to turn away from her. You place two tea bags into comically large mugs (the ones that make both Tommy and Sarah giggle, which brightens up your day) and pour the steaming water into them. You place one of the mugs in front of Sarah and slide into the chair beside her, watching as she wraps her nimble fingers around the purple mug.

“I’m a busy woman,” you tease. “I need to work and stuff,”

“Coffee shop?”

“I’m off for the day,”

A mischievous glint glimmered in her eyes, her smile widening into a cheeky grin. “Date?”

You snort into your tea, waving your hand dismissively. Sarah raises an eyebrow at that. The girl has quite a sharp intuition. If you were being completely honest, it made you nervous some days.

“Nah, I just need to work on my paintings. I haven’t managed to paint a single stroke. It’s frustrating,” you stop and take a sip, the fruity flavor makes your taste buds come alive. “Very annoying,”

“Maybe just paint something else or sketch something you like,” she states nonchalantly. “Take a break from the main thing, do a side quest,”

“Sometimes I do that, but I really need to get a grip. I’m gonna end up working at the coffee house forever, or I’m just going to have to risk starvation,”

“Don’t worry. We’ll take you in, feed you,”

Teenagers. You shake your head with an amused smile, “What am I? A dog?”

“A friend.”

You still at that, fingers curling around the hot mug, it burns to the touch. Sarah starts to look around your house as if what she just said just now wasn’t ridiculously sweet.

She hops off the chair and starts to wander with her mug nestled between her palms. Taking a sip, you smile into the porcelain rim, your heart beating fast.

When you first moved here, you were scared to be alone. That you wouldn’t be able to make any friends. After your grandfather died and left you the house, you had half a mind to not make the move. It was nerve-wracking at the time. But ironically enough it was your grief that spurred you to take the leap forward.

Sarah slows down, reaching the bookshelf. The one you have in the living room isn’t really that impressive, mostly put there for decor. She pushes a succulent out of the way and allows her fingers to trace the smooth spines. “You have a lot of children’s books,”

“What can I say, I’m a kid at heart,” you observe the bookshelf next to her. She isn’t wrong. A lot of Roald Dahl books, which are followed by a series of Nicholas and the Gang books. “If you want to see my more serious stuff, we can check the one upstairs.”

“I’m good,” Hooking her fingers around Matilda, she pulls the paperback out of its home. She flips it over and scans the back. “Can I borrow this one?”

“Sure, be my guest. That’s one of my favorites,”

“Living in a house full of dumb-dumbs sounds like my life story,”

“Oh, believe me, your dad is much smarter than he looks,” the sigh you let out attracts her attention, eyes flitting back to you. “And so is your uncle. Also, Matilda’s parents are kind of assholes,”

“Woah, spoilers.”

Another knock at the door. Compared to Sarah’s slow, more careful ones. These knocks sound eccentric, hitting the wood as if the person behind it is out to break it.

“Uncle Tommy,” Sarah guesses, rolling her eyes but smiling. “My dad’s probably with him,”

She’s spot on with her guess. Sarah peers from your side, looking over both her uncle and dad. Tommy shoots you a wide grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Joel stands tall right behind him, his arms crossed, he greets you with a small smile and a signature head tilt.

“Hello boys,” you say, returning the nod and smile. “Do you guys wanna come in?”

Joel lifts a bag of groceries, “Pizza day,”

Sarah’s ears perk up at that, her eyes wide with disbelief, “You didn’t forget!” then she narrows her eyes, sticking her bottom lip out. “Who are you and what did you with to my dad?”

“I had to remind him,” Tommy chuckles, nudging his shoulder into Joel’s. He holds your gaze. “But I’m here for you, beautiful,”

“My hero.”

Joel scoffs with a half grin and gestures his head towards Sarah, “Get your things. Let’s get going.”

All Sarah has to do is lean to the side and grab her backpack from behind the door. Joel waits for her below the short set of stairs, one hand in his pocket, eyes flicking between you and Tommy. He seems impatient, almost.

Tommy brushes past you while Sarah takes her first step over the threshold. At that very moment you feel suspended in time, your eyes finding Joel’s for a brief moment until Sarah comes into view. He slaps a hand over her shoulder and smiles at you. Sarah is still holding the book as she waves you both off.

When you close the door, Tommy is already in the kitchen, rummaging through your fridge. “You have nothin’ to eat,”

“I thought we could order out,” you offer, your gaze falling to the blank canvas. Tommy moves his entire upper body out of the fridge and slams it shut.

“You have anything in mind?”

You don’t have to think long for an answer.

“You know what? I think I’m craving pizza.”

The thing about Tommy Miller is that he’s a good listener, paired with quite the mouth.

He can talk for hours. You always comment on how that was his superpower; there RE no awkward silences when Tommy İs near. He’s also ridiculously intuitive, which makes you think Sarah got it from him.

You two are sitting on the couch with crossed legs and facing each other. Your knees press together as he tells you about his day, munching on the last slice. He’s telling you how the concrete deliveries got delayed, which meant that the rest of their schedule got fucked. His words, not yours. Joel was furious, apparently. You never would’ve guessed. He just looks tired all the time.

“By the way,” he says, swallowing and reaching for the glass of bubbling coke. “If you were cravin’ pizza so much, we could’ve gone over to Joel’s. Eat some of that good homemade shit,”

Picking up the empty pizza box, you place it on the coffee table and push it with the tips of your fingers. You don’t know how to answer him. Your brows furrow, and when he sees it, worry crosses his face.

A bitter chuckle drops abruptly from your lips, “I don’t think Joel likes me very much,”

“What?” Tommy sounds positively horrified. If anyone heard, they would’ve thought you said something along the lines of your mother dying. “Nonsense. He adores you. Why would you even think that?”

Your eyes drop to the cushions you sit on. You feel the brush of his knuckles ghosting over your cheek, prompting you to meet his gaze. His eyes are a soft brown, a shade lighter than Joel’s.

“Hey, you can talk to me. Did he do something to make you feel like that?”

“N-No,” you slowly shake your head, your pulse throbs under your skin. “I just…I don’t know. It seems like he’s wary of me, like I did something wrong once and he’s expecting it to happen again,”

He sighs, his palm now fully cradling your cheek. You can’t help but lean into his touch. “That’s just Joel for you. He’s got a fair share of weight on them shoulders—I’m also probably not a big help to him. Always getting into trouble,”

“I know for a fact that Sarah and Joel love you very much,” you have the need to remind him, and his eyes light up at your words. The skin under his hand burns. “Besides young siblings are always trouble, I would know since I’m the younger one as well. It’s character.”

He blows a raspberry into the air. His hand falls from your cheek and takes refuge over his lap. “Some character,” he utters under his breath, shooting you a playful gaze. “You want me to talk to him?”

“Please no,” you laugh, slapping him on the shoulder as you get up. “That would be super embarrassing,”

“Sometimes you need to tell that stubborn dog to behave,” his voice reaches you in waves, his socked feet following you to the kitchen. You dispose of the boxes, start to prepare him, and you some late-night tea.

“He is behaving,” you reply, feeling his presence behind you. “I just get into my own head sometimes. Don’t worry about it.”

Your hands are still above the kitchen counter when you feel his warm breath fanning the back of your neck. You watch his fingers curl around the edge, his chin not quite pressing but lingering a couple of centimeters above your shoulder.

“Anyone who doesn’t like you is a grade-A idiot, just sayin’” his voice is a low echo in your ear. He’s not physically touching you, but it feels as if his entire being is consuming you by just being so close. The click of the kettle parts the silence. “The water’s done.”

You’re surprised when you turn and find that there’s actually quite a bit of space between you still. You could’ve sworn that his body was only a breath away.

Tommy steps closer, caging you between his arms and the kitchen counter. He has a lazy, yet adoring, smile on his face. Your legs start to tremble, a habit you found you did whenever you were in any kind of confrontation.

Now, there isn’t really anything to confront, so you blame the crackling of tension between you and him. You take a breath and your chest heaves.

You hold your breath when you notice he’s starting to inch closer, gorgeous browns dropping to the flush of your lips. You don’t pull away. But you don’t lean in either. You’re like a deer in headlights, shocked by the sudden beam of brightness.

“Is this okay?” he asks in a whisper. You swallow, your muddled mind finding it difficult to string the words that might or might not form a coherent sentence.

Tommy has always been a close friend. A confidant. Someone you can call in the middle of the night with noquestions asked. You know for a fact that he can be a flirt. And this quality of his cheered you up from time to time—like when he calls you beautiful or praises you in any shape or form. But you’re quite not sure you want to breach the limitations of a platonic relationship.

Suddenly you feel his lips on your cheek, pulling back as quickly as he leaned in, he releases you from the cage and grins at you.

“Gotcha.”

“Excuse me?” Your mouth feels like sandpaper and your throat dry. You swallow and watch him sit on a stool across from you. His fingers grip the peaking part of the stool head between his legs, he looks like a toddler.

“I’m just doing my thing, being a troublemaker. Just like you said,” he hunches forward, eyes looking up to you between dark lashes. “It’s character, right?”

“Oh fuck off, Tommy Miller,”

“You know I’m not above accepting that offer, right? It’s been a while.”

You roll your eyes and turn on the kettle again, the steaming water now probably tepid.

“What would you do if I actually kissed you?”

The question lingers in the air and uncomfortably presses into your skin, you lack the air to take a breath. You don’t dare to look at him. Gaze stubbornly watching the button of the kettle to pop, signaling you that the water is boiling.

“I don’t know Tommy,” you answer honestly and press a palm against the heating surface of the kettle. “I don’t know.”

You hate taking out the thrash.

You don’t know why. When you were a kid, it was your dad who took it out and that would always be accompanied by a series of complaints. His habit of talking to himself and to the inanimate objects around him had passed on to you. The night air chills your skin, a shiver shuddering up your spine while you struggle to keep the trash bag in the air with one hand. Your nails begin to tear the plastic and you start to walk faster.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter, arm cramping. “Come on, just a little further,”

When you reach the container, you lift the bag with a heave and do a small little hip wiggle at the small victory.

Turning around you see Joel watching you with a wide smile.

You’re stunned into silence, arms and legs tingling at the thought of how stupid you must’ve looked. He’s holding a trashbag of his own. Red flannel accentuating his narrowing hips perfectly. He cocks his head to the side when you continue to stare.

“Are you always this excited after throwin’ out the thrash?” he asks, humored by your reaction.

While you think of an answer, he takes wide steps and throws out his own trash. Joel then turns to you, the only thing separating your bodies being the white picket fence.

“Let’s just say that I was happy it didn’t rip while making the trip,”

He nods while pressing his hands into his thighs, “A worthy thing to celebrate.”

You shift from one leg to another. The conversation you had with Tommy the night before echoes in your head worry clouding your chest with the question ‘did Tommy say anything?’. But you assume not when Joel takes a step back, palms sliding down his jeans like a nervous tick.

“Well then,” he clears his throat. “See you later neighbor,”

You lift your hand to wave, an early smile starts to curl over your lips. However, your half-uttered goodbye is cut short by the absurdly loud growl of your stomach.

Ah fuck.

Joel stills. Your cheeks and the tips of your ears burn. His eyes drop to your arms that are now wrapped tight around your stomach, then he lifts his gaze back up to meet yours.

“You wanna join us for dinner?” he asks, he pronounces every word slowly, reminding you of the way you whisper to animals that you don’t want to scare away. “Sarah’s makin’ her special burgers,”

“Special?” you ask back, ignoring the fact that you’ve become a charity case in a blink of an eye. “What makes them special?”

Hand sliding into his pockets, Joel gestures with his head for you to come over.

“Why don’t you come over and see for yourself?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x ofc #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #hbo the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us

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jogood-reads-blog · 5 years

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Bridge of Clay by Markus Zusak: Review

Note: I’m starting this with a quick little note because I know I said that my first review would be Lord of Shadows by Cassandra Clare, which is coming, but I absolutely HAVE to talk about this book. Markus Zusak never fails to amaze me and I’m going to be diving into how I feel about this book. I’m breaking this review into two parts, the first part is a non-spoiler part for those who are thinking about what to read next, and then a spoiler part for those who read the book and want to discuss it with me! This is my first review (the word review is starting to lose meaning now don’t you think?) so I am completely open to constructive criticism. Let me know what you all think and talk to me about Markus’ books!

Non-spoiler: I want to spoil this book so much, but I will resist so we can all discuss together! First, let’s talk about what this story is about. There are five brothers, the Dunbar boys, and the eldest, Matthew, is the one narrating the story. While Matthew is the narrator, he is not the star of the book, he is telling the story of the fourth Dunbar brother. This novel follows the story of Clay Dunbar rekindling the relationship with his estranged father, but the novel also simultaneously tells the story of Clay’s parents. The first part of the book tells how his mother comes from Soviet Russia to Australia, and the second part is about his father’s childhood in Australia, and then it’s about how their parents meet and get married and have their children. I know this all sounds complicated, and in some way it is, but trust me when I say that it’s worth the complexity. I love all of the characters. There are five brothers like I mentioned earlier, Matthew is the oldest who looks after his brothers after their mom dies and dad leaves (this is mentioned pretty early on, so I don’t count that note as a spoiler). Then there is Rory, I love Rory with all of my heart. He loves to fight, and drink, and women, but most importantly, he loves his family. Doesn’t really love to admit that he loves anyone because no boy really does, but oh my gosh the way that he shows his love is so amazing and it makes me so happy. Then there’s Henry, who is a lot like Rory, but money-driven. He isn’t greedy though, and I think he’s my favorite. Henry reminds me of William Herondale or any Herondale. Lots of Herondale energy from my sweet Henry. Then there’s Clay, the smiler, he’s very quiet and is always running. At first, when I was reading I thought he might be on the spectrum but as the novel progressed I was able to figure out why he is so quiet and to himself. After Clay is Tommy, he’s the youngest and has a love for animals. All of his animals are names after people, or hero’s, from Greek mythology, it’s so great. This book is so much, and it will hit home in so many different ways for everyone, but it hit home for me as a sibling story. Sibling stories always get me because I’m one of five and I have a very different relationship with all of my siblings. To see this beautiful relationship with these five brothers is so heart-warming, but also heart-wrenching. If you’re on the fence about reading this book I promise that you won’t regret it. I absolutely adore this book. Markus Zusak has yet to disappoint me. I was actually nervous about reading this book because The Book Thief holds such a huge place in my heart, but I am so glad I picked up Bridge of Clay. I hope you all chose to read it and love it just as much as I did.

SPOILER: Alright, if you’re reading this then it means that you finished Bridge of Clay and want to talk about it with me. Which I appreciate because I love talking about books that I’ve read. If you haven’t finished the book please do not read this section, I want you to enjoy this novel in its entirety Thank you, go now if you haven’t read the book, stay if you have. <3

Okay! First thing I want to talk about is Penelope’s luck. I just feel so bad for her, I mean Marks really did her dirty when he thought of this character. When father put her on the train out of soviet Russia my heart broke. Her dad was never really great at showing her that he loved her, but he really did love her so much. When we finally see her in Australia working as a custodian, I felt pretty angry, and I think I felt this way because I cared for her so deeply. She really was a beautiful character and the way Matthew narrates the story and retells everything Clay had told him about his parents, was just beautiful. And when her father dies, again, my heart broke for Penelope. She couldn’t be there with her dad and he had sacrificed so much to get her the hell out of this communist country, but when he died, she finally bought her piano. Which of course lead her to meet the one and only, Michael Dunbar.

Learning about Michael’s past was very interesting to me because we get insight into this character that is called “The Murderer”. Believe me when I say that I was theorizing throughout the entire book as to why he kept being referred to as the murderer. It was interesting seeing his childhood with his mom, going to work with her and sitting in the waiting room of the doctor’s office. While he’s in the waiting room we see a redheaded girl step on something he’s building, which by the way, did anyone else have a feeling that they were going to get married or at least some relationship? I thought they were going to have some relationship, but I had no idea that they would get married. That was kind of crazy to me, but I feel like I totally should have seen it coming. Anyway, I actually enjoyed the relationship that Michael and Abby had. While I was reading it though, it felt like something was missing. Yeah, they loved each other but I didn’t feel any chemistry, honestly, it felt like he really only stayed with her because he was so good at painting her. I think he was scared of change and anything that wasn’t a part of what he was already sure of. When he met Penelope though, I was excited.

I thought this relationship was beautiful. At times I was worried that it also didn’t have a spark, but the more I read the more I felt the love that they had for each other. How much they supported each other and wanted nothing but the best for one another. When Penelope saw the paintings of Abby, she didn’t want to throw them away, sure she was jealous, but she didn’t let that jealousy consume her. To me, it felt very healthy way to respond to a scene like that. If I saw my boyfriend’s garage was covered in portraits of his ex? I might be pretty jealous. Honestly, the love that I had for this relationship was overwhelming. When she was sick and on death's door, he said that he was so lucky, and you could see how much he loved her, and how much she loved him. It made so much more sense to me then as to why he left, and I’m not making an excuse for Michael abandoning his children, but he loved her so much that when she died, he was absolutely destroyed.

The next thing I want to talk about is the relationship the entire family had together. I thought this relationship was beautiful too because it was so authentic. Their family was messy and anything from perfect, I only grew up with two brothers and the house was a mess so I can’t imagine what a house of five boys would look like, and Markus does such a good job at telling that story. He gives the reader insight into the messiness of the house, but also with life in general. He showed the fights, the arguments, the battles, but he also showed the makeups, the love, and the care that this family had for each other. When they all laid in Penelope and Michael’s bed just comforting their mom I cried. It was so heartbreaking but at the same time so heart-warming. And even when all of this was happening, they all still would manage to laugh and make fond memories through the bad ones.

I loved the interactions between the brothers. They all compliment each other so well, and even when they were on their own, they always managed to laugh and stick it out together. My favorite scene I think it the monopoly game. I was on the beach and when Matthew said, “I ate it”, it being the iron, I lost my mind. I was laughing so hard the people next to us kept looking over and my parents pretended they didn’t know me. Then you see how well Penny knows her boys when she tells Rory that it’s in Matthews shirt pocket. When he says, “what are we going to do without her?” *I started crying again. Markus has this thing about making me laugh and then burst into tears and I think that says a lot about his writing.

*I want to talk about Rory for just a second- I fucking love him. He is so tough and hard on the outside that when he said, “what are we going to do without her?”, I cried. I cried because you forget he’s a child. He was about thirteen when all of this was happening, and he felt like he had to be the strong and tough kid that he’s always been. It was heartbreaking.

I mentioned earlier that Henry is my favorite character. Similar to Rory, Henry is very much a tough guy but in reality, he’s a huge softy. He loved Clay so much that he went and got the absolute crap beaten out of him so when Clay did come home, Matthew would be distracted and not beat up Clay. Who does that? A Herondale, that’s who, and like I said earlier, Henry radiates Herondale energy. I just needed to dedicate a little paragraph to Henry because I love him so much.

When Matthew beat up Clay when he got home, I don’t really know how I feel about that. I think because I’m not a boy I don’t understand why boys have to fight whenever they feel emotion. I understood to an extent, but it felt like it was a really bad fight and also didn’t seem like a fair fight since Clay is so much younger. How did you guys feel about it?

Time to talk about another beautiful relationship, Clay and Carey. I loved that they weren’t “boyfriend and girlfriend” but they were in love and best friends. I loved that they had those unspoken rules and when Clay tried to stop seeing her so she could focus on being a jockey, they had their spot every Saturday. She was so supportive of him going and building the bridge and he was also so supportive of her passion. Markus did such an incredible job at conveying the love they had for each other, and having Matthew tell their “love” story was extra special because when an outsider can feel and see, the love two people have for one another, I think that’s amazing. Can you imagine what I did when she fucking died? I died a little bit. That really sucked. And I didn’t even think it was the epic death that it should have been. She was such a cool character and then she just fell off the back of a horse? I had to read that several times because I didn’t comprehend what happened. Part of that thought is because there’s jockey lingo used a lot around that time, and I don’t speak jockey.

Was anyone else uncomfortable that the oddly graphic way told her parents that they had sex the night before she died? I mean, he wasn’t really graphic, but in a way, it was pretty graphic. I also was hurting because every woman Clay has loved, dies. No wonder he thinks he’s bad luck.

I did like seeing the beginning of their relationship though, which is why I liked the going back and forth to the “present” and the past. I put that in quotations because it’s not the present but it’s also not the past-past, you know? Anyway, the way their relationship starts is so wonderful and sweet, made me so happy. Carey was such a comfort for him. They saw Abby together, and it was so sweet that she went with him and was there for support.

As the bridge-building continued, I liked that Clay and Michael were getting closer. When Clay quoted the Quarryman and Michael knew that he had seen Abby (I think that was a little unclear to me) it was like this weight was lifted. I liked that they had something in common, a shared interest. When Clay said that they had to finish the bridge for her, I didn’t know if he meant Penelope or Carey, and it didn’t matter because it had to be finished for both of them. Then when Tommy gave Clay Achilles, oh my goodness, that was emotional. I don’t even know how to talk about that one. And then when the boys came and they all played football, and Matthew almost called Michael dad, I was crying again! It was so beautiful.

I’m almost done but there are two more big things I want to touch on before I wrap this up.

The first one, the scene where Penelope dies. Michael brings her to the backyard to kill her, well help her because she begged him to, and Clay sees that. No wonder he’s so quiet, and the nickname “murderer” had a whole new meaning now. The last thing Penny saw, or what Clay believed, was the clothespin, which is why he carries it around with him. I loved that so much and I can’t even really say why. It just was an insight into Clay’s mind and I really enjoyed that tidbit.

The last thing I want to talk about is when Clay leaves. He tells Matthew everything, all the stories that their mom shared with him, about him and Carey, about the backyard, and then he leaves. He travels the world and all of the boys go off and do their own thing and it’s really cool, but Clay doesn’t come home. Matthew ends up having kids and marrying the boy’s teacher, Claudia. Which by the way, whenever Matthew and she talked and Clay would grin, it was so cute because Matthew got so defensive. Clay had been gone for years, Michael went to find him, and they weren’t sure if Clay was going to come to the wedding. When he showed up and Matthew walked over and hugged him so hard, it reminded me of the years before when they met in the front yard and Clay was met with punches instead of hugs. But Clay and Matthew hugged and then all of them were hugging, and guess who was crying, ME. The last line really got me though. “A Dunbar boy could do many things, but he should always be sure to come home.”

It was such a beautiful ending. Markus Zusak never fails to amaze me with his story-telling. This story was raw and real, but also transcending and beautiful. I feel like beautiful is the most used word in this review, but it’s the word that fits this novel so well.

Thanks so much for taking time out of your day to read this! If you want to talk about the book, please message me because I would love to!

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