𝗔 𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗞𝗬 𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗕𝗟𝗘

02 | hangover

"I warned you not to get drunk," I said as Jameson nearly toppled off the edge of our bed.

It was only five days until Nash and Libby's wedding, and the morning after he'd chosen to get drunk.

"It's hard not to," Jameson rasped, "when your brother is the bartender."

I sighed. Although Nash was the oldest Hawthorne brother, he apparently didn't have enough brains to stop giving Jameson alcohol.

Or perhaps he just thought it was a riot.

I did enjoy the tipsy comments Jameson made when he was intoxicated, but waking up with him hungover was not fun.

I forced him to drink water. I was about to head to the kitchen to make him some breakfast, when suddenly, two feet appeared on the fireplace.

The youngest Hawthorne brother, Xander, ducked down and stepped into our bedroom, taking in his surroundings.

"My apologies for intruding," he said, "but it seems that my bedroom has a secret passageway to yours."

"That's old news," Jameson said drowsily. "I use it all the time to sneak spiders into your bed."

Xander shuddered, as if he could feel them on him now. "If I had the chance," he said, "I would disown you."

"It's mutual." Jameson tried to smirk but was too hungover to pull it off.

Xander smiled cheekily. "Too much to drink, Jamie?"

"He must've drunk his weight in whiskey," I agreed.

"Nothing my cinnamon scones can't solve," Xander said, heading for the door.

As Xander disappeared to make breakfast, I tended to Jameson's headache with Tylenol and half a gallon of water. He moaned every time I made him drink more, but I didn't care.

He'd done this to himself.

When Xander reappeared with the delicacies, the three of us had a picnic of sorts, composed of nothing but sugary pastries and orange juice.

I could tell that Jameson felt better afterward, because he extended a hand to me and murmured, "Want to go for a drive?"

I nodded.

Xander had to leave to help his father, Isaiah, with his mechanic shop. He'd been in and out of Hawthorne House for months. Sometimes, he even slept at his father's place.

It made me happy. I could tell, however, that Jameson was jealous of the relationship he'd formed with his father.

As Jameson helped me into the passenger side of the Porsche, I buckled myself in. Partially because it was the law, and partially because Jameson Winchester Hawthorne was driving.

"You could get a DUI," I said. "There's still alcohol in your blood."

Jameson merely grinned. "We'll stick to the backroads."