Love & Luck(16)

“Addie!” Ian yanked his seat belt off and scrambled out the window. I was already on the other side of the car, the keys imprinting in my palm. “Are you seriously doing this?”

“Wow. You people are really entertaining. Like sitcom-level entertaining.” Rowan reclined his seat noisily.

I squared toward my brother. “Ian, you can’t do this. You know I have to play soccer if I’m going to get into a good school. Don’t ruin this for me.”

“Your college plans are not my problem.” His voice fell halfway through. He was trying to play the tough guy, but the real Ian was under there, the one who knew how hard I tried—and continued to fail—at school. Sometimes I got the impression that he felt guilty about how easily things came to him, when nothing ever seemed to come easily to me.

We stared each other down, waiting for the other to make the first move. Ian stepped toward me, and I bolted in the opposite direction, using the car as a buffer.

Ian groaned. “Sorry, Ro. Let me just get this out of the way and we can head out. Minor bump in the road.”

“Don’t you mean glitch in the system?” I asked, purposely making my voice snide. “And ‘Ro’? You already have a nickname for this guy?”

Ian shoved his hair back, edging toward me. “I’ve known him for more than a year.”

“How?”

“We met online.” Ian lunged at me, but his foot slipped on the gravel, giving me plenty of time to make it around to the other side of the car. He rose slowly, holding his hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. You win.”

“Ian, give me some credit. I’ve fought with you for sixteen years. You think I don’t know that the fake out is your go-to move?”

He just raised his hands higher. “Look, even if Mom and Dad do find out, that just means we’re even. I have to deal with the fallout of you messing around with Cubby, and you have to deal with the fallout of me staying in Ireland. Now give me the keys.”

“I told you to stop talking about Cubby,” I said. “And you being embarrassed in front of your friends is not a fallout.”

Rowan’s voice floated out the window. “Is Cubby your oldest brother?”

“No,” Ian said shortly, his eyes on me. “That’s Walt.”

“Oh, right. Walt.” Rowan cracked his door and got out, clutching a jumbo-size box of cold cereal that read SUGAR PUFFS. “Look, guys. As entertaining as this is, we all know you can’t keep this up forever. So why don’t we head inside and grab a real breakfast?” He shook his Sugar Puffs winningly at Ian. “Or something stronger if you need it. A pint? We could talk it through.”

I shook my head. “We aren’t old enough for a pint. And there’s nothing to talk about—”

In a flash of dark hair, Ian slid across the front of the car and clutched my wrist. We settled into a death grip, Ian fighting to wrench the keys from my hands while I curled up like a pill bug, channeling all my energy into keeping my fists closed. Another classic Addie/Ian fight move. In junior high we’d once maintained this position for eleven and a half minutes, and that was over an Oreo. Walter had timed us. “Ian . . . let . . . go.”

Rowan leaned back against the car, popping a handful of cereal into his mouth. “You two are the best argument I’ve ever seen for single-child families.” He crunched for a moment, then swallowed. “Okay, here’s a wild idea. Addie, what if you relinquish the keys to my custody and then join us on our first stop?”

“Not a good idea,” Ian said, leveraging his shoulder against mine.

“What do you mean join you?” My elbow plunged directly under Ian’s rib cage.

“Addie,” Ian groaned. “That hurt.”

“That one’s my signature move,” I said proudly.

“Hear me out.” Rowan raised his Sugar Puffs into the air. “The first site is not too far from here. Less than an hour. Addie, you can come with us and learn a little more about what Ian’s doing. Then you two can come up with a solid plan to avoid detection by your parents, and then Addie can be on her way. No death matches involved. ”

First site. Did that mean there was more than one? Curiosity bit into me, but I wasn’t about to start asking questions. Not about a trip Ian was not taking. And especially not when every bit of my energy was currently being channeled into maintaining possession of Rowan’s keys. “We can’t risk missing our flight,” I said, putting a heavy emphasis on the “we.” “Not seeing Lina is not an option.”

“Who’s Lina?”

“My best friend.”

“Oh, duh. The one who moved to Italy.”

“What else did Ian tell you about me?” I asked, doubling down on the keys.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Ian said. “Believe it or not, we don’t spend all our time talking about you.”

I spun away and tried to run for the hotel, but Ian executed a half tackle, and the keys flew out of my hands, jangling across the gravel. I scrambled for them, but Ian got there first.

He ran for the car. “Let’s go!” he shouted, tossing the keys to Rowan, but Rowan didn’t follow. Instead, he carefully placed the keys in his pocket, surveying me seriously. “Just come with us on our first stop. The airport’s a straight shot from the Burren. We’ll make it in plenty of time.”