He scoffs, and we briefly glance toward each other. “No, Jameson, we didn’t go to a private school. We went to Lincoln.”

Right. “Were you in the same class?”

“Nope!” Beretta hops to his feet, gleefully interrupting.

Arsen stands too, following Beretta out to the balcony.

“Arsen, here, was getting his ass beat by a couple eighth-grade assholes,” he shares, his hand on Arsen’s shoulder. “Being the brave dude I am, I jumped in.” He smiles. “Started getting my ass beat, too.”

A low laugh leaves me, and I cut a quick look to Ransom, who grins at his friend.

“And there came Ransom, the motherfucking savior. He whooped all their asses, and then he turned and punched us both for getting ourselves into the situation.”

The four of us laugh.

“We walked home from detention together that day, and every day after that.”

“Friends at first punch. Nice.”

“How about you?” Beretta pulls a cigarette from his pocket, closing the balcony doors so the smoke doesn’t float inside. “How’d you end up with the trust fund kids? Is there like some sort of secret club you all automatically know how to join, submit your bank statements and all that?”

“Maybe.” My eyes widen mockingly. “But if so, I couldn’t tell you, could I?” I joke, and he grins, the stem of his Marlboro stuck between his full lips.

“No, I’ve known Cali and Jules, Scott and some of the others, since I was little.” I look over the house, at the remodel I didn’t even know my mom had done while we were gone and the complete layout change that had to cost a small fortune. “I was born here. My dad bought this house for my mom, and when she remarried, she kept us in it. We left at the end of sixth grade, but they kept the property, just in case, and, well...” I look away, remembering my mom telling me why we were leaving all of our furniture behind, not that any of it’s here anymore. “Here I am.”

The ‘just in case’ in full effect.

“And here they’re not,” Ransom guesses.

“My sister is.” I cut a look toward Ransom, thinking of his reaction to his brother and his comment about his family issues the other day.

Seems we have some similarities after all.

He frowns, but shifts his gaze to the ocean, so I continue.

“We’re both busy with our own shit, so we can go a few days without being home at the same time or we’re both home, but one of us is gone before the other wakes in the morning.”

Beretta nods. “She here now?”

“No clue.” I shrug. “Maybe?”