“Loch, huh?”
My face gets warm. Er. Warmer.
“Are you friends now?” Coal presses.
“No.”
“But you’re using a nickname.”
“His sister told me to. He agreed. He’s calling meKris.This isn’t that big of a deal.”
Is my voice shrill?
“Itfeelslike a big deal,” says Coal. “You’re yelling.”
“I AM NOT—” I catch myself. Breathe. “I am not yelling.”
“Okay, I’m confused. You’re confused?” Coal asks Hex, who squishes close so he’s in the screen again. “We’re confused. Walk us through what happened. You get to St. Patrick’s Day. Lochlann—Loch—greets you. Pictures in the foyer. You apologize—which, loved that video of the apology, by the way; I donotremember that many adjectives in your draft—then…”
I sit on the bed and fill in the rest. The dinner, the food, which was definitely the highlight; Loch’s inability to have a single conversation that doesn’t revolve around himself; then the library, his pretentious Irish classics; then—
“Wait.” Coal is lying back now, his head on Hex’s shoulder. “He saw you were interested in the library. And even after you guys screamed at each other during dinner, he showed you his favorite books?”
I yank my tie fully off and let it snake to the floor. “So?”
“Soit sounds like he was trying to connect.”
“No. There was some ulterior motive. You weren’t there, youhaven’t met him. Heexudesthis manipulative bullshit energy and I’m not having any of it.” I sway as the drunkenness gets tired of fighting my self-reproach and gives up in favor of exhaustion. “But I’m sorry. I’ll be better now, more prepared to field him. I won’t keep dropping the ball and letting him get to me.”
Coal shifts to give Hex a look I can’t see.
“What?” I pull the phone closer. “What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“That look wasn’t nothing.”
“I like looking at Hex. Don’t climb all over me about it.”
I might be crossing into paranoia territory.
“But”—Coal sucks in a breath—“you could get further in your investigation if you aren’t constantly attacking him. You don’t have to actively buy into his bullshit, but remember,lie.”
This is all stuff I knew going in. I wasreadyto lie my ass off; IknewLoch unsettled me last time we met, so I should’ve been even more prepared.
Instead, I not only let him get to me, I let myself get drunk.
“It’s still early here,” I try. “I can fix this. I’ll get answers tonight.”
“No—Kris. I love you. Go to bed. You’re drunk and tired.”
“I’m fine. Totally sober. Never been more alert in my life.”
Coal rolls his eyes. “Of course. You’re a picture of angelic grace. And since you’re so consumed by angelic grace right now, I’m going to tell you what to do, and you willgracefullyobey me. One, you’re going tostop drinking whiskey, you lightweight dumbass.Two, you’re going to lay down and go tosleep.Three, you’re going to pretend that anytime Lochlann speaks, all you hear are choirs of little kids singing Catholic hymns. Four, you’re going to go tosleep.”
My eyes are shut and yeah, it’d be easy to lie back in the pillows, but I stay upright. “You said the last one already.”
“It bears repeating.”
