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“Your father only dies once if he does it right. Homemade hooch is required.”
I hated everything about this. It was torture. It fucking hurt. And I didn’t want it to stop.
“Just because I can plow through by myself doesn’t mean I want to,” I said. “Fuck, Shay. Let me need you, okay?”
I felt like I’d been waiting a very long time for someone who knew how to shatter me and also wanted to pick up all the pieces.
I felt like I was made of paper-thin glass. One wrong move, one faltering smile and I’d crack. I’d shatter. But that couldn’t happen. I’d already shattered once. I didn’t think I could do it again and live to tell the tale.
Promise me you’ll stop me before I fuck everything up. You’re my only hope.