8. Overprotective

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"The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned." ~ Maya Angelou

The Daughter

I awoke with a ton weighing down on my forehead, shattering my inside into a million trillion tiny pieces. Groaning and cursing under my breath I rolled onto my side and ever so slowly sat up, holding my hand over my eyes as I painfully peeled them open; wincing at the daylight streaming in the window.

Taking in my surroundings I praised myself partially. Well, at least I'd made it back to the spa hotel suite the girls and I were supposed to be at.

That was a good sign, right?

Well, considering I wasn't in the master bedroom alongside Beth I figured that no, that wasn't a good sign.

Just like the fact I was wearing unfamiliar shorts and a too-familiar black shirt wasn't a good sign, either.

My feet were burning on the carpet as I slowly swung my legs off the curved sofa I was sat on in the main room.

I rested my elbows on my knees and held my head in my hands, taking deep breaths and trying to gather myself and my memories from last night.

I tugged at the roots of my hair roughly, cursing myself as bit by bit I pieced the night together.

"Ah, you're awake!" Penelope's croaky voice greeted me and I grunted in response without looking up. "I hoped to wake you," She said as she approached and a moment later a glass appeared in front of my nose.

"Alka-seltzer. Here. Take," I lifted my head from my hands and accepted the glass, taking a sniff before wincing. "Well, what were you expecting? Vodka?" At the mention of alcohol, my stomach flipped and I whimpered, throwing a hand over my mouth and thrusting the glass back at Penelope before running for the bathroom.

"No, not in there! Kitchen! Sink! Now!" I quickly diverted my route and just made it before vomiting into the sink, groaning and whimpering at the sheer horror of this situation.

"Oh, you poor thing. Hold on," She approached me hurriedly and held the hair back from my face, gathering it in her hands and tying it back with a band.

"You really do have it bad today, don't you?" I nodded my head and rinsed my mouth, throwing water onto my face before gasping as my hands came away covered in my makeup.

"Oh yeah, you didn't take that off last night sugar," I groaned and reached for a sheet of kitchen towel, pressing that to my face before turning and holding onto the kitchen counter behind me, taking deep breaths and righting myself.

Once I felt better I looked down at myself and frowned at the shirt I was wearing. It was lopsided and buttoned unequally only half-way up my torso, my strapless black lace bra on display.

"Yeah, Spencer had trouble with that." My eyes flew wide.

"Excuse me?!" I snapped in a horribly croaky voice.

"Maybe you should come sit down, pumpkin," She took me by the hand and led me back to the sofa, shoving me down and passing me the glass of Aspirin.

I hissed as I gulped the drink back and turned to Penelope with an arched eyebrow and a questioning expression.

She slowly lowered herself onto the opposite end of the sofa.

Her hair was piled manically on the top of her head; her eye mask tangled in the knots; her face clear of makeup with her glasses a little lopsided but otherwise no trace of a hangover on her face at all; her satin pyjamas and robe completed her eccentric appearance and made me ache with jealousy.

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