I show it to Hex and watch as he reads it. His expression melts, the sinking sadness I’d felt the first time I’d read it. Hell, the sadness I still feel reading it.
“There are thousands of letters like this in our database.” My voice is porcelain delicate. I don’t recognize it coming out of me. “This isn’t even the most heart-wrenching one, not by a long shot, and I couldn’t… I had to do something. Ihadto.”
Hex’s focus eases up to my eyes. “You did not fulfill the wishes to hurt those children.”
I’m halfway through putting my phone back in my pocket when I convulse at his statement. “God, no! Absolutely not—”
He holds up his hand. “I have a point, I promise. You had good intentions. And no, good intentions are not always enough. But I do not believe it was an irresponsible thing that you did. It was misguided, perhaps. Honestly, I don’t know many people who could read letters like that andnotgrant whatever that child wanted. The difference lies in how you proceed now, in what you do next. If you keep doing things without considering the ramifications, or if you refuse to enact any change and surrender to complacency, then I would label you irresponsible. But, Coal—you’re learning from your mistake, and you’re stilltrying.That is brave and admirable, and exactly what each Holiday needs in its leader.”
Braveandadmirablepile in withhonorableand I’m sitting here next to him unable to comprehend how he sees me like this. I almost argue with him, lay out a list of all the reasons I’m none of those things and here, this is why you shouldn’t trust me, why I’m too much of a mess to possibly beadmirable,fuck.
But he squeezes my hand again, plays with the ring on my thumb, and everything he’s ever said to me has been purposeful from the start. He doesn’t speak without assessing the possibilities and truth in what he says, so he wouldn’t say something wrong.
He sees me as someone honorable, brave, and admirable, and in this moment, I let myself believe I really am that man.
My eyes burn. I sniff, hard, and my attention is ripped to all the people around us. Iris and Kris are talking to a group at the next table over, doing more of our duty than I currently am, but I stare at them until I can get my breathing under control, until I know I can speak without falling apart.
“If you need to make a joke,” Hex whispers, “I’d be happy to give you some kind of setup.”
I laugh. That laugh shatters through the tightening of emotion and I look at him in relief and raging, delirious gratitude.
Fuck everyone around us. Fuck anything that might keep me from him in this moment.
I cup his jaw in my hand and kiss him. Nothing consuming, not like I would in private. This is a conversation; this isThank you, you make me want to be the person you think I am.A simple, gentle meeting of lips and tongue, the shared taste of vanilla frosting and cookie spices. It feels inadequate, but his smile when I shift back is anything but inadequate. Bright and beautiful.
Forehead to his, I look down at our hands, still entwined. “Our mom left when I was eight,” I say. “Kris was seven.”
I see Hex try to angle to look at me without separating our foreheads.
“And no amount of perceived perfection or joy stopped it or brought her back,” I continue. “Joy is a potent magical resource, but I was so certain, for so long, that it wasn’t as powerful as one person making a stupid, selfish choice.”
Hex lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses my thumb, the one wearing his ring. “No. Joy wins out, every time.”
I push back to see his face.
He smiles at me, soft and sad, and I know he’s thinking about his sister, how she got taken from him because of one person making a stupid, selfish choice too.
“I’m starting to believe that,” I whisper. “Because of you.”
His smile goes a little crooked. “Because of me?”
“But you were wrong about something.”
“Doubtful.”
“You said—oh, hilarious. I’m serious. You said we’re stewards of the things that help people endure whatever awful stuff they have to face.”
He nods.
“We aren’t just stewards. We deserve it too. We deserve to feel this happiness, to feel this joy, to feel thismagic.It’s ours as much as it is the world’s.”
“And even if we don’t”—his eyes are still soft—“that’s why we fight so hard for our Holidays. Because we are the lights that help people when they’re at their worst. We’re what remains to lift them up when everything else seems dismal.”
“You really believe we have some higher purpose. That everything will work out.”
“I know it will.”
“Even when you were forced here as a political pawn? Even when my dad threatened Halloween? How does any of that go towards helping bring joy to the world?”
