Those words finally stop him, turning him back to face me, anger and hurt written all over his face. “What’s wrong with me?” He exhales out a dry laugh. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that my brother just announced his retirement and I’m a fucking mess right now, Kennedy. And yeah, I get it. You’re leaving too, but if you want to do that shit while we’re still married—” He motions towards the field and bar where we just came from. “You can go ahead and give me divorce papers right now.”
