Then again, Aaron wasn’t sure he had any grounds to be angry at Brody’s attitude. It wasn’t Brody that Quinn MacGregor had blown last night.
“So, how’s the junkyard business going?” he asked to change the subject, and Brody beamed and began to tell him.
* * * *
It was late and Brody had gone and Aaron had finished three beers on his own when he pushed the door to his parents’ bedroom open. He kept his eyes closed while he did it, and imagined it the way it had been before he and his mom had moved: the bed in the middle of the room, with the matching dressers on either side. The large armoire that had belonged to mom’s grandmother on the opposite wall, a mirror hanging beside it, and a bookshelf where Mom and Dad’s books had once jostled for space. Dad had loved classic sci-fi books, while Mom had loved historical novels. Aliens and heiresses had pushed up against one another on those shelves.