Parker

“I figured it out when you moaned my brother’s name while coming around my cock.” His eyes dipped down as if to remind me I was still on him.

“If he can make you come harder than you did around my cock, he deserves a medal.”

“Fuck.” He pushed me down harder on him, grinding his cock between my thighs. “I can’t figure out what’s worse—that you’re twenty-fucking-two, that you’re my brother’s best friend, or that my mouth has never touched your pussy.”

It was difficult to reconcile the existence of fairness when Tate Marchetti had been born with an assault rifle for a cock.

Love is expensive.

Its currency is grief.

And sometimes, it costs more than you can afford.

“Love is just being there for someone.

Tears are the language of grief.

And grief is the language of love.

Opportunity lasts a moment. Regret lasts a lifetime.

“If you want a marriage proposal and a June wedding, that’s fine. But it’s not something that’ll happen between us, and the faster you sober up, the quicker you understand I’m just a coffee stain in your autobiography, Charlie. Not a chapter. Certainly not the hero. I can’t take you out. Can’t be seen with you. Cannot love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

He will only love me in the dark.

He will never love me in daylight.

“Don’t go, Charlie.”