Oh hell no. Guys don’t talk about that crap.”“You’re serious.”“Really.”“What do you talk about?”Shane looked at her as if she were insane. “You know. Stuff. We’re not girls. We don’t talk about our feelings. I mean, not to other guys.”Claire rolled her eyes and said, “Fine, be emotionally stunted losers; I don’t care.

I can’t take the ring. It means—it means too much to you. It’s all you have left of them.”“That’s why it’s better if you have it,” he said, and held out the box, cupped in one hand.“Because you can make it a better memory. I can barely look at this thing without seeing the past. I don’t want to see the past anymore. I want to see the future.” He didn’t blink, and she felt the breath leave her body. “You’re the future, Claire.

Shane was sitting on the curb next to the old, cracked gas pumps, eating a candy bar. Claire plopped down next to him. “Half?” she asked.“And now I know you’re my girlfriend, since you’re not afraid to demand community property,” he said, and pulled off the uneaten half to hand it over.