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While the rest of his friends had long since abandoned their girlfriends and dates, Gibsie hadn’t taken more than three steps away from Claire all night.
And just like that, I was ruined.
“You don’t own me.” “Well, that’s bad fucking luck on my account, because you sure as shit own me!”
“Because it’s the truth.” “Since when?” “Since I was twelve.”
“It’s you,” he repeated gruffly, fingers tightening on my waist. “I pick you. Every single time.”
“I’ll love you the right way this time,” he whispered, and his breath fanned my cheek. “If you’ll show me how.”
“I’ll be seeing ya, Molloy.” And then I climbed out of her window and slipped into the night.
“I’ve loved your daughter for six years,” Joey finally broke his silence by saying. “I can easily love her for another eighteen.”
“You have them?” Dizziness engulfed me as I tried to comprehend what the fuck he was saying. He had them? My kids? He had them? “You got them out?”
“Maybe before they moved on, someone wanted to make sure his first love had a fighting chance with her first love.”
