Hangovers fucking suck.
Brushing my teeth takes ten times longer than normal, since every time my toothbrush ventures near the back of my mouth, I gag and lean my head over the toilet, spewing liters of red shit into the basin. I think some even comes out of my nose. It’s at this point I vow to never drink again in my life. One time was plenty for me.
Once I’m confident the volcano has finished erupting, I swallow four ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet and chase them down with water from the sink. Twisting the knob firmly to the cold side, I slide out of my clothes with the least amount of movement possible, praying the needles of water will magically heal me.
Taking a quick glance at myself in the mirror right before stepping into the tub, I spy a bandage on my upper wrist that was hidden by the long sleeves of the sweater. Holding my breath, I hastily peel the bandage back to reveal a pretty nasty-looking, bloody scrape that appears to have been cleaned and covered in some cream. How did I do this? Who helped me? My sisters? Is that why they brought me home?
Panic rises inside me as the unanswered questions build up, and my hands shake as I pull back the shower curtain. As soon as I clean up, I’m calling Dakota to find out exactly what went down. But first, a shower.
None of them are answering their phones. Not calls, not texts, nothing. I peer down at my watch and note that it’s only a little before ten, so I assume they’re all still asleep, but still…I groan with frustration, quickly reaching the point of insanity as I mull over the possibilities of last night’s events.
That’s it. I’m going to their apartment. I don’t care if I have to beat down the damn door; I need to know, and I need to know now. Maybe I’ll stop and get doughnuts and coffees on the way as an upfront apology for waking them up. Yes, that’s perfect.
Yoga pants and a thermal is all I can muster up the energy to put on. My wet hair goes into a single braid, and I don’t bother with any makeup, not even my favorite strawberry lip balm. I can’t think coherently enough to try to impress anyone. I’m just happy to have found two matching shoes. Once I get some answers, I’m coming straight back home and sleeping the rest of the day away.
Grabbing my stuff, I head out to my car, but as soon as I walk outside, I see Grams walking up the front steps, toting one of the large plastic containers we use for transporting marijuana to The Green Halo.
“Grams! What are you doing carrying that by yourself? You could really get hurt.” Forgetting all about my aches and pains, I sprint over to her, taking the bulky bin out of her arms and setting it down on the porch.
Her eyes light up at the sight of me. “Oh, I’m fine, but I’m glad you’re up! I was just coming to see you.”
“You were? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” she assures, patting my shoulder lovingly. “Uncle Danny just called, and they’re almost out of three different sativa strands and running low on a couple of other hybrids, so he needs someone to bring him what we have available.” Her eyes drop to the car keys in one of my hands and my purse in the other, then flick back to my face. “Oh, I’m sorry, honey. Were you on your way out?”
Giving a slight nod, I shift my weight uncomfortably as I weigh how much I want to tell her. My family is usually cool as shit about this kind of stuff, as long as we’re never in danger or putting anyone else in danger, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet.
“Yeah, uh, I was heading to the girls’ apartment. I left my phone with them after the party.”
“Oh, yes, right.” She nods, staring up at me with an amused look on her face. “I was surprised to hear you come in last night. I thought you were staying with them.”
Another nod as I bite my bottom lip nervously, and my gaze falls to the ground. I really suck at lying. “They brought me home, ‘cause I started not feeling well. Probably just ate too much at Christmas dinner.” I wrap my arms over my belly and make an ugly face, acting as if my stomachache is from too much food, not too much alcohol.
“Are you okay?” Her eyebrows pinch together with concern. “Feeling well enough to drive into town?”
“Yeah, much better now.” I pat my lower abdomen and smile, continuing the lying charades game I’m playing. “Good as new.”
Good as new? Shut up now, Hudson.
Her forehead relaxes and a happy smile replaces the taut frown, as if she’s buying every false word falling from my lips. “Then it’s a good thing they brought you home when they did.”
“Definitely. A great thing.” I rock back on my heels, blowing out an uneasy breath. “So you said you were on your way to see me?”
“I need you to drop that,” she tips her salt-and-pepper head toward the Rubbermaid resting at our feet, “off at the store for me. Your dad took a group out skiing this morning, your mom just left to go in town with the girls for some big sale they wanted to hit up, and I’m covering breakfast while trying to watch Denver. I’d take it myself and have you finish up breakfast if I could drive, but you know that’s not possible.”
Without a second thought, I squat down and pick the container back up in my arms, offering her what I hope is an easy grin. “No problem, Grams. The shop isn’t far out of my way at all. I’ll drop it off.”
“Thank you so much, love. I’ll see you when you get back. Tell them all I said hello.”
The drive to The Green Halo is unusually quiet. My head, though it feels much better, isn’t ready for music quite yet, and not to mention, I’m so caught up in my thoughts about what I’m going to say to my sisters that I don’t even recognize the silence until I’m parking the car in the employee area behind the building.
I grab the tan bin and hitch it up on my hip, toting it through the back entrance, which I gain access to with my thumbprint. Following the sound of voices from the sales area, I leave the container in the storeroom to go find Danny and ask him where he wants me to put the stuff. However, as I turn the corner to the hall that leads out front, I run smack dab into a hard chest, which sends two strong arms shooting out to help steady me.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking whe—” I cut my apology short when my eyes land on Crew’s face, complete shock washing over me as I wiggle free of his grasp. “What are you doing here?"
He doesn’t answer me at first, appearing to be just as surprised as I am to run into each other. His gaze travels over the length of my body, as if he’s making sure it’s really me standing in front of him, leaving goose bumps in its wake. Then, as he locks his eyes back on mine, the corner of his mouth ticks up in a small smile, waging a serious war inside of me—my hopeful heart and traitorous body on one side, my sensible mind and self-respect on the other.
“Well? Are you just gonna stand there and stare at me, or tell me why you’re at my family’s shop?” I demand, my tone borderline rude.
His proud smile grows. “I’m working here now.”
“Working here?” I scoff, pinching my eyebrows together in disbelief. “Since when? What are you talking about?”
“Last week, I called Doug and asked if he could help me find a non-bartending job, if he knew anyone hiring, and he told me Danny was looking for some help. I’m guessing he didn’t tell you?”
My eyes grow wide as the nausea from earlier threatens to make a reappearance. “My dad hired you? Are you fucking serious? Am I on some prank show right now?” I spin around in a circle, waiting for people with cameras to jump out at any minute.