Zachary turned to find James standing nearby, and he smiled awkwardly. "You're still hurt. Why did you come out here? You should be staying in your room."
"If I did, I won't be able to listen to you embarrassing yourself," James said, scowling. "Over here, Erin."
Erin quickly walked to his side, blinking. "Are you upset?"
"Not at you," James replied.
Zachary reclined against the couch and asked, "Then, at me?"
"Who else is there?" James snapped while Erin helped him sit.
Zachary pouted. "You're a cripple, man. Why don't you stay in your room instead of coming out here?"
"Watch your language!" Erin snapped, unhappy with the personal attack.
James clapped her on the shoulder. "Calm down. Don't you know why he doesn't have a girlfriend? It's because of that rotten mouth of his."
Zachary was speechless. "Your personal attacks are worse than mine."
James chuckled. "Pot, meet kettle."
Zachary clicked his tongue. "Whatever you say."
He got to his feet, ready to leave since he obviously was not winning here.
"Stop," James told him.
"What?" Zachary stared at him warily.
"Remember, she's your sister-in-law," James reared his chin. "You know that I'm older."
Zachary was speechless—he was just messing with Erin!
Still, he licked his lips and flashed a meaningful smile. "Fine, you're older, old man."
James really wanted to hit Zachary right then—it was almost impossible not to.
"Say it," he snapped, glaring at him.
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