Terry and Ryder had tucked themselves into a quiet corner of the restaurant, half in the glow of the fairy lights and half in shadow, their long legs stretched out under the table. Condensation dripped down the necks of their longneck bottles, mingling with the rich, smoky scent of mesquite and frying cornbread that hung in the air. Across the room, their mother’s laughter floated high and warm, like a bell struck by sunlight, carrying over the clatter of silverware and the hum of ...