E͟t͟h͟a͟n͟
Sam somehow beats me to the garden, not questioning my mud covered appearance or making sarcastic remarks like he normally would. I can tell that he's worried and quite irritated. He's covered in sweat and dust; it's obvious I caught him when he was in the middle of working, most likely going over the final touches of guard positioning.
He growls in frustration and grits his teeth before taking a deep breath and running his hand over his face. "I'll just say that Brookshire is full of assholes." I can tell he's doing his damnedest to keep from getting worked up.
He lets out a breath through his nose. He looks over at me, fire in his eyes.
"They decided to randomly drive here a day early and demand lodging for the night."
I stiffen.
No
Talk about entitled.
Who the he
