Grace’s POV
The night had barely given me three hours of peace before the creak of the front door stirred me awake. There she was—Sarah—her once-perfect makeup now smudged across her face, clothes wrinkled, hair a tangled mess. She looked like she’d been through a storm.
“You’re such a light sleeper, Grace,” Sarah slurred, her voice thick with the remnants of last night. “I had the best time with this guy... but now, ugh, work.” Her grogginess dripped with exhaustion, and something else—a dull ache from too much fun and too little sense.
I sighed, my chest tight with a quiet worry as I walked to the kitchen. I fetched her water and some meds, trying to soothe the inevitable hangover that clouded her mind. Sarah collapsed on the couch, barely swallowing the pills before she drifted off,
