"Come. Let's drink, son. That coffee will not make you sleep, this will."
Asher darted his eyes at the glass of scotch and his father's playful grin. Maynard reached for another glass stored in the drawer as if he already knew his son's answer. At times like this, Asher couldn't help but wonder why his father was like this.
"What kind of father invites his son for a drink?" Asher muttered, leaving the kitchen as he marched toward the bar counter. He dragged the stool across Maynard, perching on it leisurely.
"Who knows? Maybe, me? Since I'm the cool dad." Maynard laughed, sliding the glass to his son sitting opposite him. Picking up his glass, his brows rose. "Cheers?"
"What for?"
"For surviving today!" Maynard's lips stretched from ear to ear, making Asher shake his head. Still, in the end, clinked their glasses and took a sip. Both of them hissed, sucking air, filling their chest with the heat of the whiskey.
