"Here, take these." Uncle Tobias says, handing me a glass of water and some toast. I gingerly hold the toast away from me —
"I hate toast."
He raises one brow at me.
"Eat the damn toast, you need to sober up."
"Eat the damn toast, you need to sober up." I mimic him, taking a bite from the corner of the toast. I chew down on it, hating the way it tastes.
"You're exactly like your father, god help me." He mutters under his breath, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He runs a hand over his tired face before looking at me seriously.
"Ruby, what were you thinking? You can't kiss Woody," he says sternly, his tone concerned. I drop the toast back down onto the plate and cross my arms over my chest.
"Why not? I can kiss who I want."
"Not Woody, okay? You just can't," he protests, his voi
