Brandon's POV
Seth and I practically ran downstairs.
I didn't bother asking what he had seen again. The moment I heard the familiar sound of Jason's laugh drifting in from outside, something in me already knew.
By the time I pushed through the front door, the cold night air hit my face.
And there they were.
My boys.
Standing beside Jason's car like they had just arrived at a party instead of a house that had barely survived the week.
Jason had brought his ridiculous black Range Rover, the kind of car his parents had bought him the moment he turned eighteen because, apparently, driving an ordinary car was beneath the family name.
The back was packed with bags.
Food.
Drinks.
Blankets.
A portable speaker.
Even two cartons of pizza were balanced on top of each other in Pete's arms.
