Page 17 of A Very Addicted Christmas

“Not in the mood, brother?” Eliot wonders.

“There’s enough weird shit going on lately,” Tom mutters, pressing his hand to his guitar strings. The sound dies. “Our sister is icing out Mom and Dad, which I never thought would happen. Likeever.”

Eliot sobers. “She has good reason. They should’ve trusted her.” His eyes darken, even when the firelight glints against them.

“Why didn’t they?” I ask them. I’ve thought about this a lot, and I’m sure they have, too. Why did all our parents jump to the conclusion that Jane and Moffy were lying? They’ve never really lied. Not like the three of us have.

We’d be the first ones they should doubt.

I’d peg Jane and Moffy being the very last to mistrust.

Tom thinks. “Something had to have happened in that camp cabin when all the parents were there, right?” He looks to Eliot. “Jane won’t talk about it.”

“Or they just didn't believe them,” Eliot says quietly. “I would have. The moment they said it was a tabloid lie, I would’vebelievedthem. Hell, I did.”

Tom sets his guitar aside. “You also were the first one who said ‘maybe’ when we heard the incest rumors.”

“Shakespeare rotted your brain,” I sing-song.

Eliot points at me, the joint between his fingers. “I’ll allow the insult to the world’s greatest playwright. Only because I love you, and not in that way.”

Tom laughs.

I smile, and it is true that Eliot did somewhat believe the tabloids could be true about Moffy and Jane. Just for a moment. I didn’t think they were and neither did Tom, but after we heard that Moffy and Jane denounced the whole thing, we always believed it was just a salacious lie and clickbait.

I tug at the strings to my hoodie. “Jane’s likely still upset because it took Farrow and Moffy kissing for your Mom and Dad to believe her.”

“Ridiculous,” Eliot says darkly. “Where’s the allegiance?”

“They’re rooted in logic, dude,” Tom takes off his fingerless gloves and warms his hands over the fire. “There must’ve been somelogicalthing that was pointing them in the wrong direction.”

“Am I not rooted in logic?” Eliot questions, taking another hit.

“When it comes to our family, you’re all heart, brother,” Tom grins.

Eliot wears a softer smile, one that vanishes too quickly.

“It’s strange that they won’t be here for Christmas,” I mutter. They know I’m referring to Jane, Moffy, Charlie, Beckett, and Sullivan. They’re all on a tour bus for a H.M.C. Philanthropies FanCon event. It’s basically a Damage Control Tour to reestablish the crumbling fact that Moffy and Jane arejustcousins.

The three of us are seniors, so there was really no talk of us joining them.

“I still can’t believe Beckett decided to go,” Tom says, staring dazedly at the crackling flames. “He almost never misses a performance—dude is an inspiration.”

I secretly hope Tom never becomes that much of a workaholic. But that’s largely why he didn’t join the FanCon tour—he’s been super focused on his band and couldn’t miss months of time.

“Charlie is more shocking,” Eliot counters. “When has he ever done anythingforJane?”

“When has he ever done anything for any of us?” Tom says, almost resigned to the fact that Charlie is the most self-centered among them.

“When’s the last time you asked him for help?” I ask them, because I wonder if Charlie just hasn’t been tested as much as he could be.

Eliot picks up a stick. “Last week. I asked him if he had a copy ofOthelloI could borrow.”

“And…?”

“And he said,Why? You can’t read it.” Eliot begins to smile. “I’d call him a little shit, but he’s more like a big shit since he’s my big brother.”

“What’d you needOthellofor?” I ask.

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