Luke snickered. “Be an asshole all you want—I know you love me. You might have tried to kill me several times when we were kids, but you didn’t actually do it. Remember the night when I was twelve and you shoved a sock in my mouth and then tried to suffocate me with your pillow? It nearly worked, but then you stopped. You let me live. That’s love.” Tate frowned. “I stopped because you let out a moist-sounding fart that stunk like rotten eggs and almost knocked me sick.”
