When his father left the room, the weight of the conversation still hung in the air like dust motes dancing in the sunlight.
Luca slumped into the nearest chair, his shoulders rising and falling with a long exhale.
Jeff lounged across from him, spoon clinking once against porcelain before he set it aside.
He studied Luca for a moment, the corners of his mouth tugging into a half-smile.
"'Well,' Jeff drawled, leaning back. 'Could've been worse. At least you're not grounded till you're forty.'"
Luca gave him a weak glare, then let his head fall into his hands. "You're enjoying this way too much."
"Kid,' Jeff said, fishing a slip of paper from his coat. 'You just signed up for a whole new headache." He pulled out a small notepad, flipped through it, and tore out a neatly written number.
Sliding it across the table, he added, "Call this agency. Tell them I sent you. They'll show you a few apartments—decent places, not the kind of dumps your friends would think are 'cool'."
