5
WHITTON
“Did you have to wear a suit?” Weston asked me.
Of course he’d shown up to Jensen’s mayoral event as casual as ever. I rarely saw my brother in anything but band attire. Even today, he was in torn black jeans and a distressed Cosmere T-shirt.
“You’re wearing your own merch,” I pointed out.
“Thank you!” his girlfriend, Nora, said. “I said the same damn thing before we left.”
He fisted his shirt and looked down at it. “I had this before I was in the band. Does it still count?”
“It counts,” Nora and I said at the same time.
West pressed a kiss to her lips. “Traitor. You’re not supposed to agree with my brother.”
She giggled and kissed him again. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to the rest of the Wrights in attendance. There were a lot of us. Something that I wasn’t
