“Hon, you’ve got to try it. Just one shot.”

My gaze flickered to his. I liked it when he called me hon or honey, which was the stupid icing on the dumb tier cake. Our eyes collided, and those thick lashes, those eyes, those eyebrows, and that face.

Fuck.

If being distracted by a hot guy with a beautiful face made me one-dimensional, then at least I recognized that about myself.

“Is it because of Mona?” he asked.

Whoa. The force of him hitting it right on the nail caused me to take a step back. I hit the chair at the table, and its legs rattled against the floor. “What?” I whispered.

He pushed off the counter, arms going to his side. “Is it because of your mom? Because of how she is?”

Holy holes in the moon, my feet were rooted to the floor as I stared up at Jax. I hadn’t known him for more than a week and some-odd days, and he seriously got it. Just like that. Might have something to do with the fact that he knew my mom when no one—not Teresa or Avery—had ever laid eyes on her or had a chance to experience the wonder of Mona.

It was because of my mom. That wasn’t a surprise to me, but to hear him hit it like that floored me.

I’d seen my mom do terrible, stupid things when she was drunk or high. I’d seen horrific and humiliating things done to her when she was drunk or high. She never had any control when she was like that. Hell, she never had any control before then, but it was worse when she was drinking or popping pills. She was the reason I didn’t do a lot of things and I wanted complete control, because I . . .

I never wanted to be her.

I wasn’t her.

I would never be her.

My feet moved before my brain caught up to what I was doing. Walking toward the counter, I brushed past Jax and I felt him turn as I reached for the shot. My fingers trembled as they closed around the cool glass.

I turned to where Jax stood, my hand steadying. “I’m not my mom.”

And then I tipped the glass to my lips.

Just one shot. Ha! Famous last words.

Four shots later, I was lying on the floor, on my side, cuddling the half-empty bottle of liquor to my chest. My eyes were closed. There was a warm, electric blanket coiled up in my belly and a pleasant buzz trilled through my veins. I’d long since kicked off my shoes and was currently deciding on if I wanted to take my shirt off or not. I had a tank top on underneath, but sitting up, raising my arms, seemed like it required too much effort.

A soft caress, a feather-light touch, traveled over my forehead, causing the electric blanket in my belly to heat and the trilling in my blood to hum louder. “Tequila . . . Jax, tequila is . . .” I ran out of words, because . . . well, words were so hard to think up and string together.