Shane didn't make rules because he could. In fact, he didn't make any fucking rules. They were agreed upon after a time because it seemed to work best that way—everyone with someone else in a cell. Either way, he honestly didn't give a fuck what people thought about any of it. If she wanted to stay with them, she'd bunk with Jo. It was as easy as that.
"It'll rain soon," he growled. Because it would. They were in goddamn Georgia. Flash storms were a thing. But still, he gave her a nod. Shane dropped the cup back into the barrel. "You live in that thing? Before, I mean."