20
HOLLIN
I woke up on Easter Sunday with a hangover.
I’d already promised Dad that I’d show for the service, but I hadn’t considered that my birthday would be the night before Easter. Or that I’d get quite so hammered.
After chugging a bottle of Gatorade, swallowing a pair of Tylenol, and taking a long shower, I was mildly human. The weather was nice enough that I could take the Harley out of the garage and drive in my Sunday best to church. My dad sighed when he watched me pull up, but Aunt Vail whooped as I cut the engine. August walked over, wide-eyed, to assess my baby, and Nora rolled her eyes.
“She’s a beauty,” August said.
“f**k yeah, she is.”
“Language,” Aunt Lori groused. “We’re at church.”
“We’re in a church parking lot,” I corrected.
My dad shook his head. “Let’s go in
