Page 22 of Go Luck Yourself
“Youtinsel-bombed the St. Patrick’s Day Prince.This was almost an act of war.”
“I know—god, get off me—hence my appropriate response ofoh shit.”
Iris passes her phone to Coal. “No one’s connected Kris to it, but it’s certainly being framed severely.”
“I don’t think he knew who I was,” I try.
Although—howdidn’t he know who I was? My face used to be plastered all over Holiday tabloids.
Coal scans the article. His humor droops, and I can see the same thought occurring to him that I had, how familiar it reads.
“Vultures, all of them,” Coal mutters to the screen.
Hex is scanning the article now. “Thisisa far better reason for why Christmas is so abruptly interested in visiting St. Patrick’s Day.”
My whole face gets lava hot.
Oh no.
“Given the impact of this… tinsel scandal,” he continues, “it would be far less suspicious to have you go there to mend fences. And you wouldn’t have to visit other Holidays to perpetuate any cover.”
“This incident did screw up the guy’s image,” Iris says. “I don’t know how he actually is as a person, but—”
“Heactually isa douche.” But as soon as I say it, I wince.
Whether he’s a douche, I feel bad I caused someone to be smeared like this.
Unless he’s stealing from us.
Then fuck him.
I scrub my hands over my face, and when I drop them and meet Coal’s eyes, I might as well be translucent.
“You don’t have to do it,” he assures me. “Wren—figure out a way for me to go.”
I’m not the only one who gives Coal athe fuck are you doinglook.
“I appreciate it,” I tell him, jaw tight. “But I can do this.”
“Yes, you can,” Iris agrees gently. I’m looking at her before I can think not to. “You can fix this. And be great in the process.”
“Is it? Fixable.” I bite the inside of my cheek.
Iris’s eyelids flutter. “Of course it is.”
Coal still looks like he wants to protest, fire in his eyes that isn’t just for this situation. It’s from Dad’s departure, but where that’s a problem he can’t solve, this is.
I love him for it. But I flat-out refuse to let him take on everything. Hell, up until a few weeks ago, I refused to let him take onanythingif I could help it.
I’ve been floundering to stay relevant in all the changes he’s been making, and those insecurities double back on me now, sighting the underbelly of my weaknesses with lethal precision thanks to the image of Dad walking out now too.
My throat thickens.
Coal wouldn’t do that. Iknowhe wouldn’t do that.
I’m being childish. All these fears, all this anxiety—fuck itall.
I nod at my brother. “I appreciate your offer, but it’s fine. Besides, you’d go to St. Patrick’s Day to apologize for my behavior,without me?”
