CHAPTER 130 You Guys Eat the Meat, I'll Drink the Soup

　　Lucas stood at the door holding several large bags. I looked at him, and he looked at me.

　　After a moment of surprise, I found myself strangely calm. I couldn't help but think that one of them—Grandpa or Frank—must have sold me out.

　　It felt weird. When I left, I was so angry, like a balloon filled with gas, flying away without looking back. But now, a few days later, the air had deflated. I couldn't seem to take off anymore.

　　And now, looking at his face, I realized that, strangely, I missed him a little.

　　I lowered my gaze expressionlessly and took the bags from his hands.

　　"The vegetables are delivered. Take care, no need to walk me out."

　　I put down the bags and reached to close the door, but he stretched out both hands, blocking it.

　　I glared at him, but he met my gaze with a gentle look, a faint smile on his face.

　　"You're not going to let me in on such a cold day?" His voice was a little pitiful, almost pleading.