Page 88 of Go Luck Yourself
Why did Loch say he shouldn’t have done that? Why did he pull away—twice, in the car and in the kitchen? Maybe he was picking up on my uncertainty? Everyone else sure as hell seems able to read me.
I’m starting to lose consciousness. In and out like my breath, brighter then darker, hazy then still. And I want to make a decision, have a plan for the morning, but all I can do is close my eyes.
Chapter Eleven
“Christ, Kris! There ya are.”
Awareness grabs on to me and the worst headache known to man lodges itself behind my eyes.
Directly after, waltzing through my body like a triggered orchestra of pain, comes an ache in my legs and tremors in my muscles and everywhere,everywhere,I feel the brunt of the physical exertion of yesterday’s run along with my graceful faceplant down the hill.
“Holy shit,” I moan and tug the blanket up over my head.
… did I have a blanket last night?
I crack an eye open. The scratchy library couch is under me, but a thick quilt weighs me down now, warm but smelling of storage mothballs.
Siobhán shakes my arm and my moan devolves into a doleful whine.
“You gonna make a habit of waking up in our castle hanging? It’s getting a wee bit racist, Kris, not gonna lie.”
Hanging? Hang—hungover. Ah.
I sit up, eyes in slits.
She’s fully dressed. And in a coat. And morning light is pouring through the far windows, lighting up the library in a pale haze.
“What time is it?”
“Time togois what. We’re waiting on your sorry arse. Thought the leprechauns got ya.”
Slowly, I glare at her. “You all need to stop joking about that.”
“Joking?” She crosses herself. “I do na joke about leprechauns.”
I give an unimpressed blink.
Siobhán grins. That grin wavers and she holds up her phone, showing a white screen so fast I don’t catch what it is. “Interesting bit of reading Christmas put out ’bout the race.”
Bit of what?
My contorted face is question enough.
Siobhán stuffs her phone back into her pocket. “The statement Christmas put out over Loch helping you yesterday, and his role in the fight. Shot those bloody speculations right down. Made Loch look real grand in it all.”
The texts I sent Wren. She must’ve polished them up into a press release and sent it out already. Of course she did.
“Oh.” Why am I blushing? “Well.” And I shrug stupidly.
Siobhán beams at me and crinkles her nose. “Ah, don’t hide it, Kris. We’re winning ya over, I know we are.” Her smile softens one last time. “Loch sure as fuck will na thank ya himself, the stubborn prick, but thank you.”
Damn this blush straight to hell. “You’re welcome.”
It’s no big deal. It’s what I’m here for—whattheythink I’m here for. But that’s all I can get myself to say.
“Now get your arse up and change, you reek of—” She sniffs. “Is that whipped cream vodka? Christ, Loch did this to ya. I shoulda known.”
That blush goes nuclear.
