“You broke up with me, Joey,” she replied, tone thick. “You can wrap it up as sweetly as you want, but in the end, that’s exactly what you did.” “I still love you.” I heard her sudden intake of breath, but she didn’t say anything for a long beat. “Don’t.” “I fucking love you, Aoife Molloy,” I repeated, focusing on an oil stain on the back wall of the garage. “I always will.” “Then take it back.” “I can’t.” I shook my head, feeling like my heart was splitting clean down the center. “I’m not good for you.”
