Fifty-Four
Scowling, Ryland turned a glare to the other man. His eyes narrowed, taking in the relaxed, open way Thomas was sitting. There was nothing in his movements that said he was hiding anything. “What’s that s’posed to mean?” “Listen, like my boy, I say what I mean and mean what I say. Francis has a point, though. How the hell do you live in that decrepit joint?” Thomas argued quietly as the toddler slept in his car seat. “Well enough. It just gets a bit cold in the winter is all. Nothing I can’t handle,” Ryland shot back. There was a time that someone fussing over him was a pain in the ass, but he was facing his fallen brother’s youngest daughter and her family. Still, he didn’t want her to do anything for him. His eyes never leaving the road, Thomas hid his smile well. He’d known since Fr
- Writer
