End Game
Grabbing the leftovers from lunch, I go into the living room and sit on the couch.
“Everything good?” Sam asks, turning away from the TV.
“Yeah. She’s sleeping.”
Sam nods, looks back at the TV for half a second, and then at me again. “Your fucking brother?”
“I know. I haven’t seen the asshole in years.”
“What do you think he wanted?”
“I have no fucking clue. He seemed on something?”
“Isn’t he always?” Sam replies. “And yeah. Bloodshot eyes, pale, and angry. Not that it makes it any better, but I don’t think he meant to hurt Quinn.”