Chapter 49

Serge was skeptical. “What about the time he blistered our butts when we were eight and went camping without supervision?”

“We deserved that. It was a dumb thing to do.”

“Possibly,” he grudgingly conceded.

Serge, Rafe and I spent the rest of the evening bitching at each other, drinking beer—Rafe on number four, the rest of us still on one—and just having a good time.

“So,” I said as we ate apple pie for dessert, “you’re here until Monday, Serge?”

He looked uncomfortable as he set aside his empty plate. “Actually, guys, I’m here to stay.”

Before I could say anything, Rafe, now ten sheets to the wind, became accusatory. “You messed up, didn’t you?”

Serge immediately went on the defensive. “It wasn’t my fault! And how is this a problem all of a sudden? You’re always whining about me not being closer to home. Well, you got your fucking wish!”

I knew there was more going on here than Serge was telling us because he swore. He rarely used the “F” word unless…Oh no.