“She doesn’t belong to one of my boys, she’s fuckin’ mine.”
“Perceptive. She’s as smart as she is beautiful. And probably doesn’t think she’s either one.”
“But this girl...she doesn’t feel pointless. She’s real and she’s beautiful and she fits perfectly when she’s in my arms. She makes me want to feel.”
“She was mine. For the sake of appearances, she was my wife, but she was mine anyway. She didn’t know it yet, but I did. It was wrong and it made no sense, but she belonged with me. No one else, not anyone else.”
“She ... is everything to me. Everything. Healthy or traumatized, she’s all I want, and she’s mine.”
“But it’s mine,” he whispered against my cheek and then his mouth moved to my ear. “All, fuckin’, mine.”