I gulped down air.

Otter looked like he was going to pass out.

He said, “I’m… just… what.”

I groaned. “That was not how this was supposed to happen.”

“I’m…. Before I make assumptions, maybe you could explain exactly what this is supposed to be.”

“Shit,” I muttered, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Just… stay there. Don’t move.”

“I don’t know that I have enough synapses left to even think of moving,” he said faintly.

“Good,” I said as I pushed myself up and ran to the hallway, where I’d put the box I needed earlier in the day. I’d placed it under a couple of other boxes to make sure he didn’t accidentally find it and ruin the surprise.

“No,” I mumbled to myself. “Because you can just do that all on your own, can’t you, Bear? Fucking idiot.”

I found what I was looking for and clutched it close to my chest. I took another deep breath and went back into the room. Impossibly, Otter’s eyes widened further when he saw what I carried. His chest hitched a little, and I told myself that I absolutely could not cry, because that would be fucking lame.

“Look,” I said, then cleared my throat. “Just… sit there. And let me talk. I had this whole thing planned out in my head, and everything I said before isn’t what I was trying to say.”

“You told me that you wanted me to fuck you in jail with my bad hip,” Otter said.

“Yes, yes, and I’m sure you’ll never let me forget that. It’s probably going to be one of those stories we tell our kid down the road and it’ll—”

“Our what?” he asked, and I almost died right there, because never in my life had I ever heard Oliver Thompson sound so hopeful.

I was going to cry.

I had no chance.

“You asshole,” I hissed at him, trying to blink away the burn. “Would you just listen?”

He nodded dumbly.

“Okay. So. Look. Just. You are—fuck, I totally forgot what I was going to—wait. I remember. Most of it. Okay. So. You are super cool.”

He coughed roughly.

I pretended that wasn’t a critique at my delivery. “No, you are. In fact, you might be the coolest person I’ve ever known in my life. And I know now, and I’ve known for a long time, that I will never love anyone as much as I love you. You have put up with so much shit from me. From the Kid. This life… we’re—we can be a mess, Otter. The two of us. We got fucked over and dealt the worst hand, and the hits kept on coming. It didn’t matter how much happiness we tried to hold on to, we were battered again and again and again. She didn’t give a damn about us. She left me. She left the Kid. She fucked off and ran because she couldn’t deal with the reality she’d made for herself. And that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t. And I did my best. I really did. And I made mistakes. Jesus, I made so many fucking mistakes. And sometimes I didn’t even learn from them. I did what I thought was right, even when it was wrong. And then you came back and—”