Page 40 of Comfort Read

“Free advice: If that’s true, maybe don’t start things off with my childhood nickname.” Kit offers this lightly enough, trying to sound breezy and not deeply annoyed. It’s not that the name itself bothers him—they’d all had nicknames back in the day, and he hadn’t minded being Critter when Maggie mostly answered to Miss Mittens, and Justin to Juice. Kit doesn’t remember the origin stories behind the names now, and doubts anyone does; he knows there’s no malice in it when his family calls him by his. It’s the fact that his is the last one standing which bothers him: The way it suggests that in the eyes of his family, he’s the only one who’s still a child.

“Sorry, Kit,” Maggie says, wincing. “You’re right; old habit.” She takes another sip of her tea before, with obvious care that doesn’t cut the sting at all: “I wanted to make sure you’ve thought this all through. The Sage thing, I mean.”

Kit takes a deep breath and internally counts to ten. “Thought it through how, Mags?”

“Well,” Maggie says, drawing out the syllable a few beats too long. “Don’t get me wrong—he’s great! Funny, interesting, a lot more down-to-earth than I would have guessed. But. I mean… it’s pretty intense, isn’t it? His lifestyle? All that press coverage? It seems like it would be a lot for anyone. To be honest, it even seems like it’s a lot for him, and he’s been dealing with it basically all his life.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong.” Kit can feel himself getting defensive, can hear it slipping into his tone, and does his best to rein it back. “But, so what? Everybody comes with baggage. It’s not like he’s an axe murderer, or running a drug-smuggling operation or something. It’s not like it’s even his fault.”

“No, no, I know that,” Maggie says, raising her hands in the air. “I know it’s not his fault, and again: I like him! He seems great. Just…” She glances out the window at the snow, a dark auburn curl falling across her face, before she sighs again. “I just worry about you, that’s all. You know how you can get.”

Suddenly Kit finds himself struggling to keep his voice even. He manages it, barely, as he says, “You know, I’m not sure I do. Enlighten me.”

Maggie waves a hand, visibly uncomfortable. “I don’t want this to be a whole thing.”

“It won’t be,” Kit lies. He’s too frustrated and curious to let her off the hook now, though that’s probably what would be in both of their best interests. “How do I get?”

“Invested,” Maggie says, punching it out on a hard breath. “Wrapped up in the—whatever. The idea of a thing. You get so attached, Kit. To people, to plans, to the way you think things should be. And that’s great, in a lot of ways,” she adds quickly, perhaps correctly interpreting the storm cloud Kit knows is brewing in his eyes. “You’re bold! And committed! You swing for the fences and take big chances and that’s what makes you you. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it.”

“But?”

“But…” Maggie drums her fingers on the armrest for a moment and then, sounding like she knows even as she says it that she should keep it to herself: “Sometimes it’s a swing and a miss, isn’t it? Don’t you think sometimes you double down when you should just fold and walk away? I mean, it’s like the accident when you were a kid⁠—”

Kit tries not to roll his eyes, and fails. “Are you saying that was my fault?”

“Of course not! The equipment wasn’t safe and that’s on them. But you were… doing the most, weren’t you? Running as fast as you could, jumping on it with all your weight? It should have been able to withstand that, obviously, but that’s just how you were back then. It’s just how you are, even now. Everything with Emerson—the proposal, sure, and buying the bookstore without talking to him—but even before that. From the very beginning you were so excited he wanted to be with you, it was like you had blinders on and refused to see any of the problems. I mean, the way his family treated you⁠—”

“So this is about Emerson?” Kit’s surprised at the depth of the hurt this realization engenders. He hadn’t realized he still cared about this, about what his family thought of that relationship and him within it. Surely those feelings should have died when that connection did, or at least faded away alongside Kit’s hopes and dreams for their future together.

“No.” Maggie sounds annoyed now herself. “It’s about you. Who cares about Emerson? I never did, the jumped-up little snob—but you’re my brother. You, I care about. I don’t want you to get hurt, Kit. I don’t want you to be shattered if he leaves you, or you wake up in a year and realize you’re trapped, with no privacy and no way out, totally dependent on some rich celebrity for⁠—”

“God, is that what you think?” Kit demands, stunned. “That I’m using him for his money? That I’m trying to set myself up as—what, as Sage Ballard’s house husband or something? Seriously, Maggie?”

“No!” Maggie cries, nearly spilling her tea. “Of course not! I think you’re not planning at all, that you’re so—dazzled, or flattered, or whatever it is, that you’re not seeing any of the risk. You’ve always been like this. The minute someone makes you feel, like, special, or chosen⁠—”

“For fuck’s sake, who doesn’t like to feel chosen?” Kit nearly yells this, but he lowers his voice when she widens her eyes and casts a remonstrative glance towards the door. “I’m not some groupie, okay? I’m an adult, and I know what I’m doing⁠—”

“Word for word what you said to me when I told you not to put in that bid on Sawyer’s,” Maggie points out, her mouth a hard line. “Just, you know. For the record.”

For a second, Kit’s so angry he can hardly see straight. Deep down, he knows the intensity of the fury is because she’s right: He does leap before he looks, and he does tend to get caught up in the idea of something and ignore the unfortunate realities, and he did say those same words to her when they talked about him buying the bookshop. He does want to feel special, to feel chosen, to feel like at least one person sees him as more than just a handful of neuroses in a Reading Is Sexy hoodie. He always has, and it’s always mortified him. That she can see it too is so humiliating it makes bile rise in the back of his throat.

And it makes something else rise in the back of his throat too, something he should contain and swallow down, something he doesn’t realize is about to break containment until it falls in a furious hiss from his mouth: “Goddamn it, Maggie, it’s fake, all right? The whole thing is fake! It’s for his stupid reputation, we made a deal, he’s going to fix the fucking structural issues at the store and I’m going to make him look like he’s responsible enough for some investor to give money to, all right? That’s it! That’s all it is. I’m not going to get swept away by him choosing me like some twitterpated teenager—he isn’t choosing me. He hasn’t. It’s not real.”

Maggie’s mouth drops open; her face goes ashen. Her voice is a croak when she says, “Jesus, what?”

“Fuck.” Kit’s throat clicks as he fights down a swell of panic. “I didn’t mean to tell you that; I shouldn’t have told you that.” He scrubs both hands over his face, suddenly and utterly exhausted. “Look—please, please don’t tell anyone. It’s only for another few weeks, okay? We’ve got this meeting next Friday with the money guy, and then⁠—”

“Kit!” Maggie’s eyes are wide and wild; the last time he saw that look on her face, he was nine, and she was watching him tumble through the air clinging to a failed piece of climbing equipment. “What do you mean don’t tell anyone that you’re—that it’s—I mean, does Mom know?”

“Nobody knows.” Kit closes his eyes, a thick rush of shame raking sharp claws down his spine. “Or, well, Allison does, but that was more of a ‘right place, wrong time’ situation. It doesn’t have to be a big deal!”

“Are you kidding me? Of course it’s a big deal! How could it not be a big deal?” Maggie’s voice has jumped several octaves, and Kit struggles against the urge to wrestle her to the ground and put a hand over her mouth, the way he might have when they were children. “Is that who you are now? A liar? Is this some kind of—like, what, is this you punishing us for⁠—”

“It’s not about you!” Kit knows it isn’t fair to be so angry with her, that she’s reacting exactly the way he would if the situation were reversed. It’s just that knowing that doesn’t soothe the writhing coil of emotion swelling beneath his rib cage as though hoping to blow him apart. “It’s not about punishing anyone or lying to anyone, that’s not why I did it at all, it was just—it was the easiest solution to⁠—”

“This is an easy solution to you?” Maggie’s voice is hard now, and her eyes are glinting dangerously. “Deceiving your entire family, bringing him to Thanksgiving⁠—”

“Mom’s the one who insisted he come to⁠—”