“He’s mine,” I tell him, not even bothering to lower my voice. “He’s always been mine. Even when you thought he was yours, it was always me he was thinking about. Every fucking time.” His lip curls, and he tries to spit at me, so I grab the little cockroach by his jaw and force his mouth shut. “If I ever hear your name from my boy’s lips again, I’ll make you wish you’d never met him.”
