Page 103 of The Prodigal Son

“Neither can I,” he replies.

“How are you feeling about it?” I ask.

Isaac shrugs. “He told me something that sort of…stuck with me.”

“What?” I ask, hearing a car door slam in front of my house. I quickly grab a pair of sweats and a T-shirt draped over the chair in my room.

“He told me that I should go home.”

My brow furrows as I pull the shirt on over my head. “Go home? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Like I think he was saying…now that he’s gone, I should go home and be with the family.”

I pause, tugging my shirt down. “Well, isn’t that insightful?” I say with sarcasm.

“He’s changed. A lot.”

“Prison will do that to you.”

“The old Truett was so self-righteous, he would have never budged on his convictions like that. But he…told me he was proud of me. Didn’t say a word about you or the rumors. I mean…he told me he loved me.”

“And that’s a new thing?” I ask a moment before the front doorbell rings.

“Yeah. He never said stuff like that to us growing up.”

“That’s just sad,” I reply as I make my way down the hall. My father was always affectionate with me. He tells me every day of my life that he loves me.

“Who’s at your door?” he asks.

“I have no idea.”

“Be careful,” Isaac says. “Don’t just answer it in case it’s, like, paparazzi or something. I don’t like you being there alone.”

“I’ll be fine, babe. But that’s sweet of you to worry,” I reply with a chuckle as I pull back the curtain in my living room and peek out to find a man standing on my front doormat.

Shit.

“It’s your brother,” I mutter without enthusiasm.

“Which one?”

“The one who hates me,” I grumble.

“Luke hates everyone,” he replies.

I pull open the front door with a flat expression. While staring at Lucas Goode standing in front of me, I hold my phone in my hand with Isaac on the other line.

“Isaac, I’ll have to call you back.”

“Be nice, Lucas,” Isaac says loudly, but his brother doesn’t react.

“Bye,” I say before hanging up.

As I slide my phone into my back pocket, I step aside and let Luke enter my house.

“Want some coffee?” I ask as I shut my door and make my way into the kitchen. I wasn’t exactly expecting company today, but it’s not like I’m surprised he’s standing here after the hailstorm of publicity his brother and I have received this week.

The only thing I don’t know is if this is going to be a talking conversation or an arguing conversation. I’m ready for either.

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