"Bren, you're hurt."Brenna hung up, slipped her phone into her skirt's pocket, then walked to the living room. Her sister was curled up on the couch with an ice pack on her head. "Party too much, Gracie?" The blonde having a hangover did explain why there wasn't any music blaring.
"Ma'am, I think you're pushing the lass a little much."
"Matt, about yesterday--"
"Don't you dare squee over the phone."
"And where the hell were you last night?" Grace scowled. "Dad was worried when I got home."
"He was just as worried about you."
"Bren, you're his princess. Always have been, always will be."
Brenna sat down in the chair beside the bookcase. "It doesn't mean he can't worry about you. I've seen it in him. Besides, who else would he watch football with if something happened to you."
"Who would he watch baseball with without you?" Grace countered.
"This is stupid, Grace, arguing who Dad worried about more." She picked up the old German textbook and flipped back to where she left off. After reading a few paragraphs, the young brunette adjusted her reading glasses.
"What are you reading?"
Without looking up, Brenna answered, "One of Grandma's old books."
Grace snorted. "Because of yesterday, right?"
"Duh." Brenna shifted to she wouldn't aggravate her still tender back. "Want to help?"
"No, thanks." Grace stretched out on the couch. "That's all about ghosts and spirits, right?"
"Your point, Gracie?"