“Better me than Mr. Celibacy over here. Tell me, Tyler, you got carpal tunnel in your right hand yet?” I tossed a throw pillow at his head. “You volunteering to come help me out?” Sean dodged the pillow easily. “Name the time, sugar. I bet I could put some of that anointing-of-the-sick oil to good use.” I groaned. “You’re going to hell.” “Tyler!” Dad said. “No telling your brother he’s going to hell.” He still didn’t look up from his phone. “What’s the use of all those lonely nights if you can’t condemn someone once in a while, eh?”
