Call me Patch. I mean it. Call me.
Right now, holding you, I feel like we have a shot at beating all odds and making it together.
You can call me Patch. No really. Call me.
My first job entailed spending a summer working in a cornfield in Nebraska.
What is it with you and girlsโ bathrooms?
Are you gloating inside? That's what this is about, isn't it? Getting me to trust you so you could blow it up in my face!" [...] "I get that you're angryโ," said Patch. "I am ripped apart!" I shouted.