THE JONES HOME
The constant vibration of the phone disrupted the soothing silence.
Owen turned his head to glance at Bryson, who wasn’t bothered by the noise. “Aren’t you going to pick that?”
“No, it is mum, and I can bet she has nothing important to discuss except whining about her husband sulking,” Bryson said with a sniff.
His friend observed him cautiously, “Ever since you arrived here, you have been prickly. Did something happen? We can still head out to drink if you want,” Owen suggested.
He adjusted himself on the seat and scoffed. “I didn’t want to go to the bar. Since you have a nice one at home. Why do I need to go pay for those overpriced drinks?”
“Since when did you become so frugal? You have more than enough to spend, but you just had to come here to evade my precious wi
