“I don’t know how in the fuck we got here, but somehow this game is more real than anything else.And I want it.I fucking want it.”

“This isn’t a fucking game anymore. No charades here. I don’t know exactly what to call it, but whatever it is, it’s ours. I’m going to latch onto it. And never let go.”

“I thought this was a game,” I remind him. “Not anymore and you know it. Everything else in my life is all fucked up. This is the only thing that’s real.”

“But my stomach starts constricting because I MIGHT HAVE WANTED IT TO BE A DATE. I mean, what is that? Dates lead to commitment and commitment leads to temporary insanity and temporary insanity leads to full on mental illness—picking out china patterns, choosing museums to get married in—and ends with two fucked-in-the head sons and a dad trying to hold it together when he’s just as fucked-in-the-head as they are.So no, I definitely don’t want it to have been a date.”

“My skin tingled a little where she touched me. I was totally aware of that one spot more than I'd been aware of anything in my whole life. I didn't know if I wanted the feeling to go away or to feel it forever.”

“I'm a prick half the time, but you make me better. You make me happy. I don’t want to lose you. I love you. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You're doing fucking awesome, Colt whispers in my ear and I can't help but smile at that. Only he would use the word 'fuck' at my mom's funeral.”