”You’re in a good mood for once.” Liam nudges my shoulder in the kitchen at work and holds up his coffee mug toward me. I pour the steaming liquid into his cup and clink glasses with him. We both take it black, like our father.

Sometimes I hate having anything in common with the batty old asshole, but it’s hard to begrudge someone their coffee preference.

”Missed you on the run this morning,” he says as we sip our drinks, leaning ...