Siobhán gives me a shrug, and I sink back against the seat, staring out at the passing scenery, foliage and the occasional tree and stone fence breaking the hilly landscape.
Deciding that I like Lochlann Patrick is not the hardest thing I’ll have to do, turns out. It’s finding out what he thinks about me.
And now that that’s in question, I’m pinned to the seat in preemptive dread.
What if he pulled away because he realized it was a mistake to kiss me? Or what if everything that happened yesterday was a byproduct of his stress over his uncle and his Holiday and had nothing to do with the way he feels about me?
Or what if he is the one stealing from Christmas, and he pulled away because he feels guilty for it?
I close my eyes, dropping back into my self-disgust like an old friend.
The rest of the drive passes in silence, made awkward by the way Loch is activelynottalking, and even Finn gives him occasional weird glances at the way he takes corners too aggressively.
The village is quite a bit smaller than Cork, but decked out in the same orange, white, and green decorations, banners, and pennants and people wearing all manner of vibrant scarves and hats. Green Hills Distillery ads are similarly plastered everywhere. Booths are set up along the main street, with larger tents off between clusters of trees, all of it in the sleepy stretch of a festival starting to get going.
“We’re home by one.” Loch parks in a lot off the main strip.
“One?” Siobhán echoes. “We usually stay far longer.”
“I got work to do at the castle,” Loch says too quickly. “I canna be arsed to spend a whole day down here. This festival is a quarter of the size it once was, anyway.” He glowers at it through the windshield, and his anger peels back, goes to sadness. “We will na need all day.”
She leans forward. “That does na make it less worthy of our support. We know this. We’ve talked about it.”
Finn grunts. “He’s being a donkey’s arse to pout. Heap of good that’ll do us.”
Siobhán glares at her. “Do na be insensitive to—”
“I’m notinsensitive.” Finn spins in her seat, facing Loch. “Thisisn’t any different from our usual shite situation, is it? Unless your stance’s changing on what wecando.”
Loch’s jaw is clamped so tight it bulges by his ears. Through gritted teeth, he says, “You know it’s not that simple.”
“I knowyouthink that. I know you’re na gonna capitalize on the wee bit ofgoodpress you’ve finally gotten.” Finn snaps her scowl from Loch to me, and I gape at her when she looks at me with something like appreciation.
But Loch stays quiet, unreactive, and she grumbles at him.
“Fine then. But do na discount what little we can do. We can help out the organizers like usual. The musicians you recruited—they’re here too, yeah?”
He doesn’t respond.
“They’ll wanna see you,” Finn continues. “They’ll wanna thank you for getting them in. We know you’ve gotwork to doat the castle, but you’ve got workheretoo.”
“She’s right,” Siobhán says. “We know you do na want to anger Malachy, but start at least taking credit for what you do.”
Loch drops his eyes to his lap. “I will, yeah,” he says with no inflection.
“You’re a stubborn bloody arsehole,” Finn retorts, and Siobhán gives me a look likeSee?“Some of our friends from school are gonna be here, so if I’m na back by one, I’m having this concept called fun that you should look into. Our Holiday needs to bringjoyand I’m gonna make sure it does.”
She climbs out, and Loch rubs his fingers across his forehead with a defeated sigh.
I linger, lips parting.
Siobhán gives me an imploring look and juts her head at the car park around us.
Would he listen to anything I say anyway? All it’d be is a reiteration of what his sisters said.
I relent and open the door.
Finn is jogging off for the booths, waving at someone, and I watcha group cluster around her. I could join her; but I lean on the trunk while Siobhán and Loch talk.
