Though she'd allegedly (and very reluctantly) come to Pastor Sterling's house to help me and mom pack up the family's jewels, my sister had basically taken one look around the rambler and parked herself on the couch. While our mother's giggles could be heard somewhere in the back of the house (apparently in response to all the funny jokes I'd never heard the Pastor make), it was clear that I was the only one who'd be packing today. With a confusing mixture of rage and curiosity, I'd been shoving items from Landon's childhood home into cardboard boxes for more than an hour. “I don't get it. Why isn't Wonder boy here? It's his house.” Carson stretched her long body across the couch, her damp skin creaking along the plastic. There was not a bit of AC at the Sterling's. I had to admit—I was surprised by the condition of their house, especially given how well Landon put himself together. His hair and clothes were forever on point, despite the grimness of this... shack. It seemed like companies and UT alums were always trying to ply him with commercial contracts and swag, local celeb that he was.
