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S͏usannah toldœ meœ thatœ whenœ Iœ wasœ born, sheœ knewœ Iœ wasœ destinedœ forœ oneœ of her boys.
Itœ wasœ theœ summerœ everythingœ began. Itœ wasœ theœ summerœ Iœ turnedœ pretty. Because for theœ firstœ time, Iœ feltœ it. Pretty, Iœ mean.
Maybeœ becauseœ heœ wasœ somebody’s littleœ siblingœ too, or maybeœ justœ becauseœ heœ wasœ thatœ kindœ ofœ person. Heœ wasœ niceœ toœ everybody. Heœ hadœ a talent forœ makingœ peopleœ feelœ comfortable.
Jeremiah lookedœ atœ me, andœ heœ smiledœ inœ thisœ familiarœ way, andœ suddenlyœ I had thisœ crazyœ thought. Iœ thought, Jeremiah Fisherœ wantsœ toœ kiss me.
He wasœ marryingœ myœ girl, andœ Iœ couldn’t doœ anythingœ aboutœ it. Iœ justœ hadœ toœ watchœ itœ happen, becauseœ heœ wasœ myœ brother, becauseœ Iœ promised. Take careœ ofœ him, Connie. I’m countingœ onœ you.
I wouldœ ratherœ haveœ hadœ someoneœ shootœ meœ inœ theœ headœ withœ aœ nailœ gun, repeatedly, thanœ haveœ toœ watchœ theœ twoœ ofœ themœ cuddlingœ onœ theœ couchœ togetherœ allœ night.
Youœ brokeœ myœ heartœ lastœ night, allœ right? Isœ thatœ whatœ youœ wantœ toœ hear?”
