Eric has one suitcase, big enough for a week’s worth of clothing. “You’re only staying a few days,” Vince growls as he hefts the damn thing off the luggage rack. He can barely lift it. “What all did you bring?”
“Most of it’s for you,” Eric says.
He takes the bag, his fingers closing over Vince’s for a brief instant. “Me?” Vince asks. His mind fills with gifts, shiny wrapping paper and colorful bows like presents beneath a Christmas tree. He hates the anticipation that blooms in his heart, as fragile as a crocus budding in snow. Angrily he pulls his hand out from under Eric’s and turns on his heel as if crushing his hope beneath his boot. He rams his hands into his pockets so no one will see the way they tremble. “What the f**k did you bring me stuff for?”
“It’s just some things your mom
