Loaded with whiskey.
My mouth is dry, my head pounds, and my entire body aches.
I roll onto my back with a groan, throwing my arm over my eyes.
Never again.
I’m never drinking whiskey again.
My dreams were insane, too.
Apparently, my brain decided the perfect nightmare involved sneaking around Violet’s house, stepping on a rake like a cartoon character, falling into a bush, and getting attacked by Callie with a tennis racket.
I huff out a laugh.
Ridiculous.
I run a hand over my face.
“Ow.”
My fingers freeze against the tender spot on my forehead. The spot where the rake?—
My eyes fly open.
Oh God.
Oh no.
I slowly lower my hand.
That wasn’t a dream.
None of it was.
The rake.
The bush.
Callie.
The tennis racket.
“Oh God,” I whisper.
I broke into Violet’s house.
I actually broke into her house.
I sit up too fast.
Terrible idea.
My stomach roils, and I close my eyes, waiting for the room to stop spinning.
“Idiot,” I mutter.
Luna meows from somewhere nearby.
