Peter stood still in confusion, letting Roman ramble on for the moment. His heart stung at the mention of Letha. It was too soon after. A couple days maybe? Lynda had been so insistent that they pack up to get away from the shitty ass town. "So... this isn't a Godfrey technology thing?" He tried to sound calmer than he felt.
Suddenly closing the distance, Peter slid into the seat across from Roman. Both hands on the table, he leaned in. "I didn't fucking leave you. What are you talking about?" It was their parents that separated them after Letha's death. Peter was not even going to be allowed at the funeral, because who wanted a fucking gypsy tainting the dear memory of a perfect Godfrey child. He was sure Roman's uncle hated him as much as Roman's mother did.
"Maybe sniff less coke and then try to make sense." Peter pulled out a joint from the pocket of his jacket and lit it up.