**spoiler alert** This is not the typically loud, brash, violent love affair CP Harris is known for, it's probably closer to The Boy Who Loved Wicked.**spoiler alert** This is not the typically loud, brash, violent love affair CP Harris is known for, it's probably closer to The Boy Who Loved Wicked. 3.75 stars, mainly because I felt like it was missing that signature brutal throat punch. Or it was less brutal than usual. Or am I getting jaded? Who knows.
I wasn't disappointed, it was a sweet and painful slow-burn with an amnesia trope. Told in Harris' style of now and then, back and forth, with the story unfolding in layers, and of course secrets and lies. And the cheating, let's not forget that. So much cheating!
I liked that the amnesia trope was a slow burn (nothing happens until 51%), and there wasn't a cheap plot scene where everything comes back to Noon in a magical flash. It felt more realistic and painful for Noon (and Solace) to have to learn to rebuild, make new memories, and find a way to heal from the way Noon lost his memory. It felt graceful and had a smooth, slow buildup.
The name Solace was a bit eh, to me, and tying that in was just too over the top. Solace was a mess in the beginning of the book, watching him heal and blossom was rewarding. Lots of trauma in his background. The emotional abuse, gaslighting, weaponizing affection and love, and cruel blaming Solace's husband inflicted were portrayed well. That guy deserves everything that is coming.
Leland, Franklin, Jasper, and Cole all have small cameos, but the book mainly focuses on the two-pronged approach of Solace and Noon's relationship. Harris is good at isolating her couples so the focus is solely on them, and it works well here.
There weren't any quick fixes, or instant cures, Solace and Noon both have stuff to overcome and they still carry a little bit of pain all the way to the end.
My favorite part of the book was the caretaking. Not only does Noon do it in a classic 'you before me' way, but he coddles, hovers, and delivers every single time. The best part of that was the role reversal, because usually the caretaker is depicted as a martyr or perfect, or the other person isn't able to do it back. In this case, Solace perfectly mirrors what Noon did for him, surprisingly sweet and genuine.
“You once took care of me, now it’s my turn to take care of you.”
“Who takes care of the caretaker?”
“No one,” he said, bemused, as if he never expected anyone to.
Noon finally gets what he has given everyone else.
I'm usually anti-kid in epilogues, but because of Solace's tragic background, I wanted to see that for them, and adding in a menagerie of animals was fun, they have a farm after all!
A lot fewer fletching and cum-eating extravaganzas, don't worry, it still happens, but not to the extent of The Fishermen. Also, for once the massive dick issue was not compared to a can of soup or beer can (not saying Harris does this, I mean in general), and having a massive dick when you're nearly 7 ft tall is acceptable. Lol.
Make sure to read the bonus scene afterward so you can catch up with that dickface, Patrick. It's worth it.
Other small things I liked: the Care Bear nicknames, burning everything of Patrick's in a fire, the silly witty verbal game they played, the caretaking, forehead kisses, and the house built to accommodate Noon's size!
Highlights:
• “This is how I look on a good day.” I hadn’t had a good day in a while. “Do you recognize this man?” I surely didn’t. That man had a fresh shave and wore a smile that said he was ready to take on the world.
• How many cars were here when I arrived? I didn’t know, hadn’t thought to count. Why hadn’t I counted? I counted now, but the total of four cars, three vans, and my truck meant nothing to me when I didn’t know how many there were to begin with. How many were here? I spun in place, gripping the sides of my pounding head. How many? How many!?
• “Are you alone?” I asked.
• “Yes,” he said, almost gut-wrenchingly so. “I’m alone.”
• “Did your person die too?” “No, he didn’t, but it feels like it sometimes.”
• Patrick said I cried too much, that I felt too much. He used to love that about me. He’d said it made me emotionally open and mature. Now he slung around terms like “too sensitive” and “too dramatic,” using them as weapons to hurt me.
• “You deny me love, knowing how much I need it, and you won’t let me love you in return, knowing I need that just as much—even though it seems that you couldn’t care less,” I said bitterly. I’d come to realize that love deprivation was Patrick’s own form of passive aggression.
• “I would have,” I said. “But we’ve wasted a whole day. ”“We’ll get another one tomorrow.”
• I appreciated the height of the archways and doorframes throughout the house. It wasn’t often that I didn’t have to bend before walking through one.
• “I guess you’re breaking something after all,” I said, passing him the guitar signed by every member of Patrick’s favorite band. It was worth a lot. Noon cracked it over his knee before adding it to the raging flames. As items burned, creating more space, we added more, until the only thing that remained of my lying, cheating husband were the memories lingering in the house.
• True Heart Bear. That was who Noon exemplified in that moment. Kind, affectionate, and attentive. The most caring creature that ever was.
• “How could anyone walk away from you? How could anyone move on and forget about you?” “I-I don’t know how to answer that,” he breathed, shocked by my question.
• Our wedding bands clinked as we entwined our hands while we kissed.
• “Deflection and innuendo,” he said, impressed, brushing his knuckles over my burning cheeks. “Don’t ever change, beautiful. You’re perfect just the way you are.”
• “I wish I would’ve picked up on your nasty habit of thinking you know it all a lot sooner,” I said.
• “Because we’ll make mini-mes and feed them to the population,” I shot back, matching his seriousness. “Fertilize the earth with the likes of you.”
• “Cabbages will sprout with my face.” “How about potatoes?” he added swiftly. “And broccoli?” I asked without breaking my verbal stride. “And radishes!” He licked his lips as if tasting them now.
• “I win!” he exclaimed while I sputtered. “Nope, I win.” He slapped a hand over my mouth and rolled us off the couch onto the floor, sprinkling kisses over my face as I laughed, surrendering to his barrage of affection.
• “Yes. Do you remember?” His breathing went shallow, as if excited that my answer might be yes, or maybe it was fear he felt. Fear that my answer would be no.
“Not yet,” I said instead of a flat-out no, trying my best not to hurt him.
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