Wyatt stood from his barstool and reached out for the bottle of bourbon in front of Ollie. He poured each of his friends two fingers of neat amber liquid before serving one for himself.
"To our brotherhood," Wyatt said as he raised his glass for a toast. Ollie and Maxen raised theirs too, and the three downed their drink with a gulp.
"Remember that one afternoon we stole a bottle from Uncle Henry's Macallan collection?" Wyatt asked, walking down memory lane.
"How could I forget how wasted we got, throwing up on Grandma Lin's garden after we drank half of the bottle?" Oliver scoffed. The memory of their foolishness was still fresh in his mind.
He was placing his glass on the bar top when he heard giggles on the circle floor. His brows knitted. Why was Finn still up? And did he hear it correctly? It felt as if there were more children upstairs.
