BREN
I was experiencing déjà vu, but not at the same time.
This time was different.
Another year, another time, and we’d been driving Alex Ryerson back.
Another month, another time and I’d be walking out of jail.
Another moment, another place and we’d be at the hospital getting someone patched up.
This time, it wasn’t us. It wasn’t our fight. We were heading home, except for a quick stop at the drive-thru for Jordan. He wanted food since we never got the burgers or chicken baskets from The Twister Sister.
Walking into our house, one after the other, we moved around the kitchen.
I grabbed the plates.
Cross grabbed the drinks and glasses.
Jordan went back outside, taking the food with him.
No words were spoken. None were needed. We all just knew.
I dipped in the bedroom, changing
