“And I was terrified every moment I was with you, because I did na know how to tell you what Malachy and I had done, and I still don’t. I do na know how to—”
I shove to my feet and lean over the banister. “You manipulated me. Youusedme, Loch.”
“No.” He takes a lurching step forward. “Malachy told me to do whatever I had to do to get in with you. But Kris, nothing that happened between us was because of him. I tried toresistyou because of him. And it all went arseways. I failed myself. I failed you.”
“You didn’t tell me. You let me find out likethat.You asked me to—” My breath knots; I keep going. “You asked me to show you my soul, and youlet me.You knew,all this time—fuck, Loch, how am I supposed to get over that? Itrustedyou.”
He drops his head to his chest for one fortifying moment before he looks up at me, eyes glassy. “I should’ve stood up to Malachy years ago. But I could never… I could never fight through his shite. I was too much a coward. Until you. You did na let me be a coward,never believed I was for one second, and you finally got me to realize how much I had to lose by bowing to him.” He makes a pained noise. “I do na expect you to get over what I kept from you, what I did. I do na deserve you to. But I am sorry, Kris, and you do deserve that. An apology. And you deserve to know that I will never forgive myself. I’m someone who hurt you and I’m despairingly in love with you and I canna bear to be both those things at once.”
“You need to go,” Coal says to him, but it’s quieter. Unyielding, but calmer. “Now.”
I’m frozen in this moment. Loch is, too, looking up at me, strain winding across his features.
He can’t be in love with me.
Not this fast.
Not even if his magic brought us together.
Not even if I’m in love with him, too.
I can’t be here anymore, listening to him, feeling this.
“Go back to Ireland,” I rasp. “You have a Holiday to secure.”
I walk away.
“Kris,” he says. Then, louder, “Kris—”
“You’re done,” is the last thing I hear Coal say before I’m swallowed by the hall, hurrying for my room.
I get maybe two yards when I see Hex against the wall, arms around himself, wearing a gray robe with the hood thrown up.
“Don’t,” I beg. “Don’t say anything.”
He holds up his hands. “I was not going to.”
But I’m the one who stands there, scowling at him, jaw working.
Hex’s head tips, his dark hair spilling over his shoulder. After a moment of silence, his lips part.
“Months ago, I found myself in a similar position to yours, if you’ll recall.”
My scowl tightens, but Hex keeps talking.
“I ended up choosing my Holiday over your brother,” he whispers. “A choice I regretted as soon as I’d made it. You have proven far smarter than I was. To choose him”—he nods back towards thefoyer, where Loch has to be gone by now—“over your responsibilities almost from the start.”
A laugh scrapes out of me. “This isn’tsmarter.This isn’t—”
“If I had to choose again,” Hex cuts me off, “no matter the repercussions, no matter the situation, no matter what was at risk for Halloween, I’d choose Coal. I’d choose my own happiness.”
My glare finally relaxes, widening in confusion.
He shrugs helplessly. “My Holiday survived before me. It will survive after me. But I know now that I will not survive without him. So I’d choose him, and myself. Even if it makes no sense. Even if it hurts.”
He smiles, but it’s sad, weighted, and I know he knows we have that in common. The burden of overthinking, of self-inflicted responsibility.
“Do not regret choosing yourself,” he tells me. “No matter what outcome is unfolding now—Coal is glad you did. We all are.”
