⚠️ Trigger Warning: This chapter contains flashbacks of trauma/s****l abuse and may be hard to read.
The rest of the night flowed surprisingly well—easy conversation, way too many margaritas, and enough laughter to distract me from the simmering tension that kept pulsing under the surface.
By the time we left, Blair and I had each taken down four margaritas like champions. Which meant Jacob and Jace insisted on walking us home. Chivalry or control freak tendencies? Unclear. But I wasn’t exactly in a position to argue.
I had a buzz, sure, but nothing compared to the blackout Rory I used to be before therapy came in and patched my self-destruction habits with some hard-earned awareness. Blair, on the other hand, was at maximum sparkle—talking loud, stumbling lightly, and throwing mega-wat
