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Matt brought him a T-shirt, grabbed his tea and bebopped out the door after stealing a piece of apple for the pie off the counter.

Momma laughed, the sound empty of the strain he’d gotten used to hearing in her voice when he was around. Yeah, Luke reckoned she was glad he had a plan, that he was interested in something. Being a momma had to be the hardest job ever.

“You heard from Mark, Momma?”

“He’s in Mexico. He’s busy. No, he doesn’t want company. Mark has issues, honey.”

“I’m not wanting to go to Mexico. I might call him, though, if you think he’ll answer.” Mark could have all the issues he wanted, but Luke was sick of respecting them. A man needed a kick in the ass sometimes. He knew that better than anyone right now.

“It can’t hurt to try. John’s talking about having another baby already. That boy is a nutter. Three is enough.”

“You think so?” He didn’t point out she’d had four since he and Matt were kind of a bonus.

“Well, I mean, I’ll love them all, but Marlena has her hands full with the boys.”

“Yeah. John is kinda gung ho.” He winked at her and she laughed, trading him cabbage for carrots.

“John is my baby, and I adore him, but the boy is a horndog.”

“At least he seems to be a horndog for just one woman now.” He paused, glancing at her sideways. “You might as well know, Momma. I started dating Rory McConnell.”

“Did you? He’s young, but he seems smart enough. He, uh, he had a run-in with Doug Harris and some of his cronies a few years ago. The rumors were nasty. I felt bad for him and his momma.”

He stared, because this was what Rory wouldn’t talk to him about. “I know you’re not one to repeat rumors, Momma, but can you tell me what you know?”

“Oh, son, are you sure you want to hear? It’s nasty.”

“What is it you always say? Forewarned is forearmed?”

“They say he got real drunk and inappropriate. Naked inappropriate, and Doug and his cronies had to stop him, forcibly. The real rumor is that he got drunk and naked with the group, let them do things to him, take pictures and everything.”

Luke sat back in his chair. “Ouch.” He could see that, though. Rory might have been drugged or he might have been having food poisoning, but Luke was living proof that the man had trouble with controlled substances. If he’d gotten high as a kite there was no telling what he might have done .

“He was young—just out of college and home, so eighteen? But it was nasty. They got what was coming to them, though. All but Doug Harris are dead, in jail, or bankrupt now.”

Well, well. Rory did have a finely tuned sense of revenge. “I hope dead of natural causes.”

“Cancer. Prostate.” Momma sounded pretty damn pleased with that fact too. Someone had been evil, then. He felt totally out of step again, because he imagined Matty would know who all the players were if Momma named them, and he only knew Doug Harris’s name because of Rory and Matt.

Although really, Matt was in the closet and not the most social man alive. He wasn’t sure Matty knew Kurt Cobain was dead yet. He wasn’t totally sure Matt knew who Kurt Cobain was .

He grinned. Luke, on the other hand, knew all the words to Let It Go , knew which housewives lived in which city, and had friends who could do whole routines of Beyoncé choreography.

He guessed he was the hip twin.

“Well, Rory’s a good guy, Momma. He’s not a drunk. He’s not loose. He’s just very open.”

“I heard he was drunk as a lord at that awards dinner.” Concern shadowed his eyes. “I know Matt has changed his tune about Rory, too, but I worry. That’s all.”

“I know.” He worried, too, but more that Rory would figure out how not together Luke was and just move on. Still, fatalism would only get him so far, so he was gonna go with hope instead. “I’m not sure he was drunk, Momma. He thinks he was drugged.”

“Oh my God!” Momma put the rolling pin down, her eyes wide. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I put it down to food poisoning to begin with, but with what I’ve learned about him and his fight against Harris, maybe someone was messing with him.” A spur of anger rose in his chest.

“That’s…well, it’s criminal is what it is!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Luke decided then and there that while he was looking into the grants and funding and such, he would go ahead and look into who might have been able to get to Rory at that party.

“That’s not right. That’s not right at all. Why didn’t you invite him to lunch?”

“Well, we wanted to talk to Preacher first. I’ll ask him to go to lunch with us next week.”

“I’d like that. I met him, but what I remember is thinking how hard it must have been, to go to high school so young.”

“He was young for school?” His eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “How young?”

“Honestly, son, you need to find more things out about your lovers before you start sleeping with them. He was twelve when he started high school.”

“Holy guacamole.” He had a whole list of exclamations that were not obscene to use with Momma. “That makes me feel a little dumb.”

“You weren’t in high school together. You probably never met him.”

“No, no I never knew him.” He shrugged. He couldn’t let the fact that Rory was wickedly smart scare him off. He had to hold his own.

Obviously Rory had found something about Luke he liked. A lot. And it wasn’t the hot monkey sex. Oh, they were fooling around plenty but neither of them were up to acrobatics. They talked a lot. Hell, Rory’d Skyped him at night when they didn’t have time to get together.

Rory liked talking to him, liked listening to him. They had fun.

They also kissed a lot. Made weird food. Rory had this crazy gourmet kitchen with all sorts of bizarre one-use-only appliances. A crepe maker. An arepa press. Luke hadn’t even known what an arepa was.

Now he knew and he wanted them, daily. With pulled pork and pickled onions and cotija cheese.

“What are you thinking about, son?”

“ Arepas. Do you know what those are?” He finished up the carrots for her coleslaw.

“No. Share?”

Soon he was waxing poetic about the cornmeal cake, the different flavors, the arepa maker.

She laughed all through. “Well, y’all need to make me lunch. No taking me out. I want those things.”

“I’ll talk to him, sure.”

Rory seemed like the kind of guy you could introduce your momma to. What a thought. Luke had never once brought anyone home. Neither had Matty.

The world sure had changed.

Most of the times when folks said that, it was bad. This wasn’t. This was fine.

“Thanks for your help, baby boy. Poke your head out and see where they are on the grill?” That meant ‘I need to make this food so get out’.

“I’ll poke my whole self out, if Matty helps me down the ramp.”

“No falling,” she said absently.

Luke laughed, then wheeled to the back door. “Y’all need help?”

“Daddy will. I’m going to get up on the roof.”

“Be careful.” Luke waved at the ramp. “Help me down, and I’ll burn meat.”

Matty headed up, then wheeled his ass right down. So strong, his twin.

He peered at the burgers at eye level. “Nice. Okay, Preacher. What can I do?”

“Just don’t catch them on fire like your damn brother does.”

“I heard you, old man!”

“Where’s your hat, P?” Since the stroke, Preacher forgot shit like that, and the sun was beating down.

“I… I’ll go get it. Your momma must’ve stole it.”

He nodded easily, but the jumbled words made him hurt. “Grab us all a water while you’re in there?”

“Can do!”

He flipped the burgers, listening to Matty sing from up on the roof.

Luke had never thought he was going to be so grateful for time with his family, but now he knew he would never take it for granted again.

God, Rory would laugh his ass off at him. Not much of a sentimentalist, his Rory. His. Listen to him.

He could hear Matty growling, bitching about the gutters.

“Don’t you rain shit down on the burgers, Matty.”

“Fuck you, Lulu.”

“Boys! Language!” Momma could hear anything through her kitchen window.

“Sorry, Momma,” they said in chorus.

Matt appeared over the gutters, grinning like a monkey. “You got me in trouble, man.”

“I did.” Luke cackled like a bird. “That’s my job.”

“Be nice or I’ll…drop a dead bird on your head.”

“Gross! Is there really a dead bird up there?”

“There is really a dead bird up here. Wanna see?”

Let’s see…did he want to see a gross, swollen dead critter that had been there God knew how long?

No.

“I’ll pass. Burgers in about five.”

“I’m halfway done. Don’t forget to rest them.”

“I got this.” He resisted flipping again, knowing they needed to just hang out and caramelize.

Preacher returned with water and a plate of hot dogs. “Momma wants these done too.”

“They are best on the fire.” He tossed them onto the grill, trusting the burgers on the back to catch them.

Preacher dragged over a lawn chair. “I swear, the heat gets to me more these days.”

“Shit, the heat is worse now. Seriously. It’s brutal.”

“It is.” Preacher was smiling, though, looking less peaked now that he had his hat on.

“Don’t let Matty toss the dead bird down on you.”

“Dead bird?” Preacher was up again in a heartbeat. “Wasn’t a cardinal, was it, son?”

“No, sir. Mockingbird.”

“Ah. Well, that’s not good, but I can live with it. Momma loves those silly cardinals.”

“I promise I’d not have admitted if it was.”

“Good man. Let me go get you a trash bag.”

“Ball it up and give it to Luke to toss.”

Luke grinned. He did still have a good arm. He used the long tongs to turn the hot dogs before he pulled off the burgers to rest. He traded those for the bag. “Make sure she lets them sit.”

“You burned that one for her, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. We’ll eat when Matty’s done.”

“I’ll get the dogs, and he can bring me in.” He watched Preacher go in, and Momma waved a thank you from the window.

It was hot.

“Matty, come on!”

“Just a second,” Matt sounded rumbly, aggravated.

Luke started pulling hot dogs off the grill. He left two to char, knowing Momma liked the black stuff. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out. Rory had sent him a picture of his desk, a pile of papers teetering madly.

He chuckled and sent back a shot of the grill, the wieners burning merrily.

You’re burning the weinies!

Only Momma’s

Protect yours

she wants you to make her arepas

I can do that. When?

I’ll ask her. Any days off-limits?

I’m busy Wednesday night

okay

There was a crash and a shout, and Luke whipped his head around to see the ladder Matty had been using on the ground. He dropped his phone into his lap and frantically worked the wheels of his chair. “Matt? Matty!”

“Luke!” Matt’s legs were dangling from the roof. “Luke, please!”

“Hang on, Matt.” He rolled right up to the end of the ladder and popped it up off the ground, gritting his teeth. He muscled it up into place next to Matt, then rolled and locked his brakes to brace it. “Go. Six inches left.”

“Matty? Oh my God! Abraham!”

“I got this, Momma. Listen to what I said. Six inches left.”

“On it.” Matty scooted over, leg searching for the ladder.

“There. Come on. Two inches up and you’ll hit the rung. I got the end. It’s not going over again. ”

“Uh. Uh-huh.” Matt finally got one foot on the rung.

“There you go,” he barked orders like he would to a recruit at training. “Shift your hips left and test your weight on the ladder.”

“Right. Don’t let go, Luke.”

“Never going to happen.” He would get Matt to the ground if it took every bit of his energy and strength. “I got you, bro. Always.”

Matt panted, his muscles quaking visibly. Then he got that foot firmly planted and was able to stand on the ladder and rest a moment, whooping for air.

“Oh, lord. Come down, Matty. Please, baby.” Momma was holding onto a dish towel, wringing it between her hands.

Preacher stood nearby, ready to help, but he didn’t try to step in. He trusted Luke, and that made him feel like he could climb that ladder and carry Matt down if he had to.

“Coming, Momma. I just needed a little help.” Matt’s legs were trembling like all get out, but he made it down.

Luke moved back gently after he unlocked his brakes, and for a moment, Matt slumped right on his lap.

Then Matty laughed and climbed to his feet. “That was close.”

“Yeah.” Too close. Jesus . “Can you save your hot dogs, Momma?”

“Oh!” She hurried to the grill, using her towel to grab the tongs and pull off the hot dogs. “Perfect!”

Matt grabbed his arm, squeezed. “Thanks, Lulu. You saved my bacon.”

“I did.” He laughed, but now that it was over he was shaky as hell. “Damn. Don’t do that.”

“Yes.” Matt winked at him.

“Shit.” He grabbed his phone.

Sorry, had to save Matt’s ass. Will call tonight

all is well????

All good. XXOO

He stuck the phone in his pocket. “Okay, can you wheel me in or do I need to crawl?”

“Shut up, dickmunch.”

“Boys! Get your butts in here. Matt, I want you to wash up good. Dead birds!”

Momma was losing her shit.

“Coming Momma,” they said, in unison.

Matt grabbed his chair and started up the ramp. Luke helped and they were both huffing and puffing and laughing helplessly by the time they got to the kitchen.

“Wash. Do you need your hands doctored, Matty?” Momma was in full-out fuss mode.

“I have no idea.” Matt strode to the sink to run hot water and grab soap.

“Luke, make Preacher a burger and a wiener.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He washed up too, so he could assemble food for all. He was dry as a bone. Luke refilled iced teas. Then he pulled out Momma a chair. “Two wienies, Momma?”

“Yes, son. Mustard and cheese, please.”

Like he didn’t know that. He would sprinkle a tiny bit of the onion she’d chopped on as well, and she would argue but eat it up.

Matty refused the hot dogs, grabbed two burgers and sat, hands still tremoring a bit.

They exchanged a grin, the adrenaline high.

“You two are still five, I swear,” Momma accused.

They looked at each other and started laughing, because Matt hadn’t fallen, and he’d fixed it, and Matty had believed he would.

That was something for Luke. Really something. A milestone.

“Why did we have twins again?” Preacher asked, and Momma snorted.

“Because you’re a horndog that can’t keep it in his pants?”

“Oh. Right. I remember now.” Preacher beamed, and Momma finally laughed a little, cheeks flushed.

Luke made himself a burger and two dogs, eating eagerly. He was starving, and he knew Preacher still had more for them to do.

Them. Him and Matt.

A rush of pure pride hit him like a line drive to the chest.

Matty glanced up at him again because a twin knew, didn’t he? Matt nodded, and that was that. He’d barely finished the last bite before Preacher was up and moving again.

“Leave the dishes, Momma. We’ll do them later.” Preacher waved them outside. “Got sh-stuff to do, boys.”

“Shtuff. Right. Have fun, y’all.”

Matty rose to kiss Momma’s cheek. “Love you. Come on, Lu. Shtuff won’t wait.”

He grinned and headed out with Matt, feeling damned good in his bones. Maybe he was finally getting his shtuff together after all.