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Another buzz. A text.

Ruairidh: Where are you?

Jenn pressed her palms to her eyes, breathing hard, trying to ground herself, but the alcohol made everything sour and disordered. Her pulse was skittering. She felt too warm, too cold, clammy all over. Her thoughts felt tangled, impossible to straighten.

Panic flared, sharp and immediate, jolting through her chest. Her breathing went shallow, fast, each inhale scraping instead of settling. She tried to tell herself she was fine—just drunk, just overwhelmed—but the words slid straight off, useless.

Then the claustrophobia hit. Not the walls—there were no walls—but her own skin, suddenly too tight. The air felt thick, close, as if the space around her had shrunk, leaving nowhere to run.

Another buzz.

Ruairidh: Jenn, are you ok?

“Jennifer, what are you doing out here?”

Auntie Peigi’s voice cut through the haze. Jenn looked up, and at the sight of Auntie Peigi’s warm, familiar face, her composure cracked. Tears spilled down her cheeks, sudden and unstoppable.

“Oh, hey, hey… what’s happened, m’ eudail?” Auntie Peigi crouched down, pulling Jenn into a fierce, motherly hug.

“Where’s Ruairidh?” she asked softly.

The mere sound of his name made Jenn cry harder, ugly hiccupping sobs that burned her throat. God, she was an ugly crier.

“Come on, m’ eudail,” Auntie Peigi murmured, holding her tighter. “Let’s get you home, eh? We’re parked just up the road. Eachann’s going to meet me at the car.”

Jenn nodded mutely, sniffling as Auntie Peigi helped her to her feet.

“Shall we let Ruairidh know where you are?” Auntie Peigi asked gently, not pushing, just coaxing.

Jenn nodded and fished out her phone with trembling hands, seeing yet more missed calls and messages. She typed quickly:

Heading home with Auntie Peigi. Not feeling great. Will speak later. Have fun.

Eachann appeared then, his jovial expression faltering at the sight of Jenn’s tear-streaked face. He didn’t ask questions, just gave her a warm, protective hug.

“Right,” he said quietly, opening the car door. “Let’s get you lovely ladies home.”

Chapter 38

Jenn woke up the next morning with what could only be described as ‘the mega lurgy’ crossed with ‘hangover from hell’. She could hear faint voices coming from the kitchen area. Her parents and Granny Annag were pottering around.

She groaned. Her head was pounding and spinning. Her stomach was churning. Acid creeping towards her throat. She felt exhausted, right down to her bones. Not just physically. Emotionally too.

She’d tossed and turned all night. Champagne sloshing through her brain as she tried to untangle her thoughts and feelings. Every time she shut her eyes, Moira’s voice came back—sharp, smug, and impossible to mute.

She glanced at her phone. There were concerned messages from everyone. Ruairidh…

She couldn’t process any of that right now. She needed to wallow. Feel sorry for herself. Rot.

Her phone buzzed again on the duvet beside her. Ruairidh. She hesitated, watching his name flash and fade. A new message popped up a second later.

Ruairidh: How are you feeling? I can swing by with coffee...

Her chest ached. She wanted to say yes, to see him. But the thought of facing him with Moira’s words still scraping around her skull made her throat tighten.

Better, just hungover. Going to have a lazy one with the family.

She typed back, adding a stupid smiley face to soften the lie.