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She’s the sun, the rest of us are just dumb rocks orbiting her.
“Didn’t like me much when we were kids, if I remember correctly.” His lips lift in a smug smile, gaze still latched to the fire he built with his daughter. Then he turns and looks me dead in the eye. “You’re not remembering correctly, Rosie.”
“That journal entry is fascinating, but all wrong. I was at home when you called that night. And I broke every speed limit to get to you.”
“You don’t hate her. You never did. You hate that you think you can’t have her.”
He wore the key to my diary for ten years.
“Putting up with you is my favorite thing to do.”
