In a slow deliberate voice, he repeats, “Keep your mess to yourself.” “You’re very particular, you know that?” “Because I know you well, and I know your faults.” “I would barely say bringing animals home is a fault.” “Do I need to bring Bessy up again?” Huffing and crossing my arms, I say, “You sleep one night out in a shed with a wonderfully large cow and you’re butt hurt for life. Honestly, Maddox.”
