James Mcavoy Novels & Stories

And I feel it, all the way down to my bones. Because it’s true. James shows up late, his arm still in a sling, but with a bottle of whiskey in his free hand. “I come bearing gifts,” he announces, dropping into a chair with a dramatic sigh. “Y’all better appreciate this because I could be at home watching TV in peace.” Bill snorts. “You don’t have a peaceful bone in your body.” James smirks. “Maybe not. But I do have a bottle of Macallan, so shut up and drink.”