Fallout (Crank 3)

old enough to fool the bartender.

But I’ve got the sympathy thing

going on. Micah has talked his older

siblings into providing us both

with stiff drinks. Just think if your

father showed up after eight years.

Wouldn’t you want a nip of stress

reliever too? Anyway, we’re celebrating.

Aunt Cora issued strict orders:

No matter what, there will be no

fights. No

arguments. No name-

calling. Plenty of time to sort

this out tomorrow. Right? Yeah.

When she’s on her honeymoon.

Trey tried to make conversation.

So did Maureen. I asked for some

time to think things over. So far,

they’ve respected that. Makes me

happy. Or maybe it’s the mojitos.

Micah and I are sloshing them down.

THE MORE I THINK ABOUT BRYCE

And how he left without giving me

a chance to explain … how he left

without even saying good-bye …

the faster I slosh. By the time

Aunt Cora and Liam shove cake

in each other’s faces, I am completely,

amazingly, dizzyingly drunk. You

might even say I’m smashed.