Page 116 of The Nightmare Before Kissmas
“Why do you not have conviction in yourself?”
I pause mid-chew, mouth full of cinnamon and nutmeg and vanilla frosting.
“You have an incredible amount to offer,” Hex presses. “And you are not a fool—you know you are quite capable, quite smart. Yet you lack confidence in a way that makes little sense.”
I fight to give one of my signature charming smiles. “Please. I exude confidence.”
“Youprojectconfidence. But beneath that, you doubt yourself.”
His hand rests on my thigh. Gentle. Not pushing me. And the way he sits in silence, I know he’d wait on me, give me space, just as I do with him.
“I’m not the pillar,” I say. I stroke my fingers over his, flip his hand and trace the lines of his palm.
“The pillar?”
“The reliable one. That’s Kris. And I only just realized that’s the role he took on, the caretaker, and god if that didn’t smack me upside the head with guilt. Because I was always the funny one. The one who made him laugh. And the one time Itriedto be more, I fucked up. Massively.” I hesitate, reluctance and shame capping me, but I grit my teeth and say to the bench, “Did you hear about the economic crash in New Koah?”
Hex is silent for a beat. “A few years back?”
“Yeah. That was me.”
“That was… you? How?”
Breath blisters like embers in my lungs. “I arranged it so all outstanding Christmas wishes got granted in the capital city, and the entire country broke because of it.”
I needed to tell him. He deserves to know exactly what type of guy he’s—doing whatever it is we’re doing with. But the moment thewords are in the air, I realize that I’m admitting the biggest mistake I’ve ever made to the most self-possessed and responsible person I’ve ever met. The only reaction he’ll have is disgust, that he ever let me touch him, and I can’t stop the scalding sear of panic from burning across my face.
But Hex’s expression goes serious. “That was the night we met,” he guesses, brows relaxing as connection forms. “Thatwas what you were talking about.”
“I—yeah.”
He smiles.Smiles.“Our conversation makes far more sense now.”
My mouth drops open in an unabashed gawk. “That’s all you have to say?”
“What should I say?”
“How fucked up what I did was!” My voice breaks, and I feel people look over, but I don’t care, can’t, so much of my being is chained to this conversation now. “How—how dangerous and irresponsible and—you’re so calm. I—I don’t understand.”
He edges closer on the bench and squeezes my hand in both of his. “Coal. Look at me.”
I’m not, though. I’m staring at the way he’s holding my fingers in his, intertwined.
“Why did you do it?” he asks.
Andthatrockets my gaze up. No one,no one,has ever asked me that before. They all just leap to accuse me of how dumb it was or remind me of what the repercussions were.
“Does it matter?” I whisper.
Hex nods. “To me it does.”
I hold. Give him another moment to realize he should be horrified by me.
Then I dig into my pocket and pull out my phone.
Hand shaking, I thumb through saved photos until I get to one. The one. An image of the letter that had been my deciding factor.
Dear Santa. Daddy left and I don’t think he’s coming back this time. I really want my mom to have some money for Christmas so she doesn’t have to worry abouthim helping us, okay? All the kids at school laugh at me for still believing in you but I know you’ll help us because Mom said I’m always really good. I’ll trade all the toys you’ll ever leave me if you’ll give her some help.
