More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
It’s so cute I could puke all over my bike.
Never forget, I was raised by drug addicts. Anger is basically my love language.
He’s mine. My job is to take care of him and keep him safe, like no one has before.
But you’re stuck with me, anyway. No backsies.”
“Except what are the two things we absolutely do not do in this household?” The long-suffering look she gives him in return seems well practiced. “Take meth or get pregnant.”
For once, I owe my abandonment issues an apology. Everything is obviously not fucking fine.
Maybe that’s toxic. Or maybe that’s just all our psychological damage complimenting each other.
I could live a thousand lives and I would never deserve someone as good and vibrant and alive as he is.
So his shit is my shit, and that means it’s time to deal with it.
