“Well, we made it home without Frye taking potshots as us,” Hoyt said, setting his bag down in the entryway of Teague’s condo before both he and Teague took off their jackets and hung them in the closet.
Teague liked the idea that Hoyt had called it ‘home’, even though he was fairly certain is was just a figure of speech as far as Hoyt was concerned. After all, he did make it clear he’s going to find his own apartment. For all I know, he already has some places in mind, thanks to the Internet.
“Now we hope he was watching. If he was, you coming up here with me should give him all the right ideas.”
Hoyt nodded, but his reply had nothing to do with what Teague had just said. “Take off your shirt. I want to see for myself that you weren’t badly hurt.”
“Don’t trust my word?” Teague asked,
