“I love you, Parks—” BJ rolls his eyes. “I’ve been in love with you since I was six and you told me you could kick a ball better than me, and listen, after being together in some way or another for nearly two decades now, I’ve got to tell you, Magnolia, it’s not true.” He shakes his head. “Your hand-eye coordination fucking sucks.” I frown over at him, offended and a bit in awe. “You can’t kick a ball for shit. But I love you,” he tells me. “I’m in love with you, have never stopped, will always til I die, love you.
