He kept his eyes focused ahead, but his hand tightened on the bench beside him. “He didn’t come with us when we moved, neither did my mom. Just me and Pops, a match made in Hell.” He shook his head, exhaling softly. “Pops really only brought me with him so he could have someone else to work and bring money into the house. Mama couldn’t handle me; she was too sick. She’s still in that same old house I grew up in. I send money back for her caregiver. She has to have someone come out and help her seven days a week.”

I tried to imagine my own mom allowing someone to help her around the house. She’d probably nitpick their every move, disgusted that nothing was up to her standards.

“Your dad was hard to get along with?” I said, knowing that was probably the understatement of the year.

“Yeah, he was a dick,” Lucas said bluntly. “He wasn’t the type of person who believed in having conversations with his kids. You either did what he told you or he’d fucking make you. And I was a difficult little shit so I spent most of my childhood getting my ass whipped every other day.” He stopped, then cleared his throat. “Anyway. Family seems to be more trouble than it’s worth in most cases. Manson got fucked over by his folks, Jason practically escaped a cult.” He glanced over at me. “No offense, but your mom sounds like a piece of work.”

“My mom can be a lot. I think she has my best interests at heart…maybe.” I sighed, settling back in the rocking chair. “She wants everything her way, always. And if not — damn, you’d better watch out because she’ll never let it go.”

“Struggles to give up control, thinks she’s the center of the world…why does that sound familiar?”

“Hey, watch it,” I said, stretching out my leg to kick at him playfully. “Don’t start comparing me to my mother.”

We both looked up as the door opened. Manson, Vincent, and Jason filed out, squinting in the sunlight with mugs of coffee in their hands.

“Mornin’ y’all,” Vincent said, plopping down heavily on the bench beside Lucas and slinging his arm around the other man’s shoulders. He jostled Lucas enough that he almost spilled his coffee, but Vincent didn’t seem to notice as he sipped his own down. “Beautiful day.”

“It’s gonna be a scorcher,” Jason muttered, sitting down on the steps.

Manson came over to my chair, carefully taking my mug and setting it alongside his own on the railing before he squeezed into the chair beside me. He pulled me onto his lap, settling me back before grabbing our mugs again.