8
“Still moping about Remy?”
Sawyer looked up from his spot at the kitchen table to find Colt sauntering into the kitchen. His brother was fresh from the shower, but he had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days.
“You look like hell,” Sawyer said. “Didn’t you go to bed at the same time as me and Walker?”
Colt smirked and shrugged as Walker came in, catching the tail end of Sawyer’s words.
“A hundred bucks says Colt was at some lucky divorcee’s house until the wee hours,” Walker said, opening a cabinet in search of a coffee cup. “Where are the cups? Three months here, and I still can’t find a single thing in this kitchen.”
“To the left of the sink,” Colt said. “And we weren’t talking about me. We were discussing whether Sawyer is just grappling with his hangover, or
