And now Wade, who had cried the loudest at the burial, was saying dead weight.
Luke pushed back from the table so hard the chair legs shrieked on the floor. “This is my house too.”
“No,” Wade said. “It isn’t.”
He reached into a manila folder on the counter and pulled out a folded set of papers. “Your mother’s gone. Lease is in my name. Utilities are in my name. The truck is in my name. I could call the cops and have them drag you out, but I’m trying to be generous.”
He tossed the papers onto the table.
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