Jennie
I stumble past the front door, the scent of cheap liquor and burnt cigarettes clinging to my clothes like regret. My jacket slips off my shoulder. I’m drunk. Dizzy. Coughing like hell. But I don’t care. I feel light—like I’ve been floating outside my own damn body for hours.
Then she’s there.
Blocking my way like she owns the whole damn world.
My perfect, untouchable sister.
“Where have you been?” Her voice snaps like a whip, tight with that older-sister superiority. Arms crossed. Brows drawn. Judging like the priestess of morality she thinks she is.
I squint at her through blurred vision, nearly slipping on my own boots. “Something you shouldn’t give a f**k about,” I slur. “Because you’re not part of my life.”
I push past her—except I don’t get far.
Because her hand clamps
