The cold wind tugged on my hair and rushed past my face, both cooling and heating my cheeks. My head was fuzzy and heavy, but there was a comfortable lull that covered my worries and damaging thoughts like a blanket of snow.
I took a swig from the rum I just bought in one of the shops around and hid the bottle under my jacket. It was a shame they’d been out of gin. Ironic, given I owned a bar with multiple bottles and crates of gin. But I couldn’t risk going there tonight, not after I ran into Quinn yesterday.
If she found me puking my guts out again, surely she would think I was an alcoholic.
I glugged from the bottle again.
I was not an alcoholic. I didn’t have a problem. I was fine. Perfectly fine.
not“Olivia?”
Huh? Was someone talking to me?
The wind carried the voice and I turn
