Footsteps sounded on the hardwood stairs inside.

Dustin came into view behind his mother.

He wore a tailored gray suit that fit too well and expensive leather shoes.

Dustin bounced on his heels and smiled.

He was thirty-two now, but he still looked like the kid who used to steal my bike from the garage.

“Look who decided to join the game,” Dustin said.

“You’re way out of bounds here, Mason.”

“I’m talking to Brenda.”