Chapter 3

Dennis grinned. “I know. Relax. It’s not Mom you’re talking to here; I’m not judging you. I honestly mean that I’m thrilled to see it.” Dennis nodded as if to confirm Owen’s hold, secured his own grip on the couch, and they both fought gravity for a few seconds. Then with a laboured hop, Dennis was back in the bed of the truck, and sliding the television forward, where Owen took the prompt to move it without waiting to be told. “So,” Dennis asked, “are you liking the program?”

“Nope. Not one fucking bit.”