A Knight Before Christmas (Fairytale in Progress #2)

Chapter 1

Garrick

The key to a successful break-in – own the place. I glance over my shoulder, and wink when I meet the wide-eyed stare of my date. Well, if we want to get technical, she was someone else’s date when the night started. What can I say? The lady has excellent taste.

‘I don’t know about this, Bill.’ She twists her phone in her hand, the light she’s providing me to ‘break’ the lock fluttering to the side.

When my buddy Tyrone Boakye and I decided to crash a Halloween party a couple of cities over, we needed adequate alter egos.

In my defense, I did actually say my name was Garrick, but there was a huge crowd, and she misheard, so I went with it.

I’m used to playing a character. Usually, it’s easier just to continue the charade in the off-hours.

‘Look at me. Do I look like the type of guy who’d get you into trouble?’ I flash my signature grin. The one splashed all over the poster of the theme park I am currently picking the lock of.

OK, truth? I don’t have the slightest clue how to pick a lock. But it’s not necessary when I have the key. Let’s be honest: if she did happen to see me slip it from my jacket, she’d probably be relieved I wasn’t actually committing a crime. It’s the thrill that she’s after – we both are.

That’s the reason people love theme parks. Why Fairytale Gardens has been shuffling guests through these rusty turnstiles into a magical fantasy land for twenty-five years. All the thrills of danger, but none of the consequences that come with the real thing.

‘You look a lot like trouble.’ Her eyes sparkle, and I know I’m in. I push the side gate open with a dramatic swing. The scraping of metal on cement might scare off the average thief, but I’m not worried. ‘Milady.’

I touch the small of her back, leading her into Fairytale Gardens’ dark, frosty interior.

The usually bright pink, blue and sandy-colored Arthurian-style architecture is merely shadows in the background of our evening.

I almost prefer FTG (our nickname for the park) in the off-season.

The dark rides glisten in the late-October frost. Wait, it’s past midnight now – guess it’s November.

The park will open next week for the first Christmas season ever. A few catering gigs and events won’t keep us afloat, so it’s time for some actual revenue. It’ll save us. At least that’s the spiel Dad and my brother Ivor gave.

Last summer, FTG had a bit of, well, let’s just say, negative press.

Dad was accused of creating fake charities and taking donated money for himself – it blew up online.

Imogen, my brother Tristian’s girlfriend, was responsible for the whole thing.

Seeing the error of her ways, she helped us clear his name, but the damage was already done.

People didn’t trust us. We’ve spent the last five months building it back.

We’ve just about gotten there, but we’re still only as steady as a newborn giraffe.

My throat tightens at the idea of the park going under. But I quickly shove that all aside.

‘What if we get caught?’ Jen wraps her arms around mine, leaning further into me.

Wait, was it Jen? Or Jem?

‘Maybe you’ll get to see my sword work.’ I might have forgotten to mention my family owns this park and that everyone is gone for the night. But again, it’s all a pretend thrill.

I flip a switch on the carousel – the poor old guy takes a few minutes to get going, but then he’s up and running.

I shudder to think that one day I might say the same about myself.

But I’m only seventeen, lots of years ahead of me.

Course, I know from experience that all the years you think you’re entitled to aren’t always guaranteed.

I help Jen on to the wooden horse, stepping off to click ‘start’, when a voice pierces through the merry music.

‘Garrick, what are you doing?’ My twin brother, Tristian, being the absolute buzzkill that he is, walks toward us. Luckily, we’re fraternal, so the looks won’t be a dead giveaway we’re related. I got bright blonde hair from our mom, and he got light brown from our dad.

‘Bill?’ Jen – I’m going with Jen – calls from the ride.

I shake my head slowly at Tristian, sliding a hand across my throat in a slashing motion, telling him, without words, to kindly, screw off.

‘Really?’ He doesn’t understand or care that he’s blowing my cover right now. ‘Do you know what time it is?’ He sounds so much like our older brother.

‘I don’t know, Ivor, what time is it?’ I push a hand through my hair, leaning against the railing. I shoot Jen a quick smile. ‘No worries. I’ll sort it out.’ I turn back to Tristian, lowering my voice. ‘Scram or I’ll tell Imogen you wet the bed until you were ten.’

He scoffs. ‘That was Aldrich.’

‘Who’s to say? Either way, I’ll tell her it was you. Now, go. I’m clearly busy.’

But it’s too late: Jen – dang, actually, I think it was Jem – is off her horse and twisting through the others back to us. ‘Do you know each other?’

‘No,’ I say, as Tristian says, ‘Yes.’

I suppress a growl. I cherish my little bro – by five minutes – love the guy. But right now, I wish he was anywhere but here. He’s killing my chance at a distraction for the night.

‘I’m Tristian, Garrick’s brother.’ He puts his hand out to shake hers, but she keeps them folded in front of her.

‘Garrick, is it?’ Her voice is edged with annoyance.

‘Middle name.’ I sigh, already giving up on this night ending with anything other than a bag of Halloween candy pilfered from my youngest brother, Aldrich. I have to get them while I still can – at fifteen, this is probably his last year going out trick-or-treating.

‘So, you like work here or something?’

‘Or something. Come on, Jen.’ I mumble the name, in case I’m wrong. ‘Does it really matter that I might have told a little white lie? It’s all for fun.’

My hopes rise momentarily when it looks like she’s about to change her mind, but then logic takes over, and I can’t blame her. I lied and brought her to a theme park in the middle of the night. Even with all my privilege of being a guy, I know that’s not a good look.

I scratch the nape of my neck. ‘I’ll take you back to the party.’ I push myself off the railing.

‘No, thanks. I drove. I’ll see myself out.’ She shoves between us and heads back the way we came.

‘Does that usually work?’ Tristian asks as I flip the ride to ‘start’. We both got revved up, so there’s no use in wasting the old boy’s time for nothing.

‘Quite often, actually.’ I jump on as it starts moving, sliding on to my favorite horse – the one with the blue sash and the black mane.

The familiar shape of the worn-down seat feels like I’m where I’m supposed to be.

I carved my initials into the underbelly when I was six.

Every time it gets a paint touch-up, I have to go back and retag it.

‘Why are you here, T? I thought you and Imogen were going to a party. Or handing out candy? What do boring couples do these days?’ I make the joke with ease.

They always come that way. But there’s an annoying little twinge in my chest this time.

Tristian and Imogen have been dating since last summer – when she tried to destroy our theme park by accusing Dad of the previously mentioned charity fraud.

They managed to sort out the drama. While I don’t subscribe to the love thing, they seem happy.

Tristian is on his horse a few feet away. ‘We did hand out candy, but all the kids are asleep by now.’

‘Not if they did trick-or-treating right. They should be on a straight sugar high.’

‘This little stunt doesn’t have anything to do with Dad rejecting your idea about the fencing camp, does it?’ Tristian’s voice is carried away on the wind.

Licking my lips, I shrug – a move I’m pretty sure I perfected in the womb.

‘It was just an idea. I come up with great ones all the time, so it’s no biggie.

’ This is my second white lie of the night.

The fencing camp was a brilliant idea, and it did sting when Dad turned it down.

I wanted to use my skills to teach kids who needed a place to go when things got tough, somewhere they could escape their own brain for an hour or two.

I floated the idea of having it at Knight School and offering it free of charge.

Dad said he didn’t have the money or time to fund a non-profit of this scale at the moment. So, like not a ‘No, never going to happen’, but I’ve been around long enough to know that it might as well have been.

‘So, who was she?’ Tristian pesters after a few rounds of merry music.

As we spin, I can just make out the Christmas decorations we’ve been setting up around the park over the last few weeks. The colorful light bulbs are dark as the festive ribbon blows in the breeze, along with the bells and baubles lining the massive garland strands and oversized wreaths. ‘Jen?’

‘I thought last week it was Tamara?’

I grip the restraint wrapped around my hand. ‘That was last week.’

Tristian lets out a low whistle, and I roll my eyes before he even talks. I don’t know if it’s the twin thing giving me a telepathic preview of what he’s about to say, or it’s just that he’s so freaking predictable.

‘At this rate, you’ll be alone forever.’

‘Nah, I’ll just pick a new dating app. They have a few for eighteen and under. I heard about one launching in the new year I can’t wait to try.’

‘I’m serious, G. Don’t you want to find love?’ He doesn’t sound judgy, but I grind my teeth all the same.

The carousel stops, and I leap off like it’s on fire. ‘Dude, you’re such an old man. We’re seventeen. Live a little.’

Tristian from last year never would’ve talked like this.

But ever since Imogen, he’s all starry-eyed and love-drunk.

And look, I’m happy for him. After Mom died two years ago, everything was crappy for a long time – some things still are, probably always will be.

I doubt we’ll ever truly get over losing a parent, especially one as great as my mom.

I was her little buddy. I used to stand by her in the kitchen and watch everything she did, absorbing it like a sponge.

When I’m at the stove now, sometimes I swear I can still feel her beside me, guiding my hands.

So, it’s great to have the old Tristian back, but just because love and happily-ever-after are what he wants, it doesn’t mean the rest of us are on board.

‘You ready for next week?’ I ask him as I shut off the ride and we head home, pushing aside the heavier thoughts so they don’t drag me down.

‘Actually, yeah. I think it’ll be good for the park. Don’t you?’

A hand grips my gut, and I nod. ‘Freaking hope so.’ I need this place to get back on solid ground because it’s the only plan I have.

I’ve never been the guy to have grand visions for the future.

Not like Tristian. He wants to see the world and make his own way.

I live moment to moment, and I hope when I leap there’s something to catch me.

FTG was always supposed to be here. I’m going to play a knight till I die, and I couldn’t be happier.

So, it can’t fail.

It doesn’t take long to get home since our house is on the edge of the property.

Dad and Aldrich are already asleep. I snag a few pieces of chocolate from his Halloween candy stash.

The kid tried to hide it, but I’m like a bloodhound – I always find it.

I head upstairs and crash into bed, ignoring the pile of clothes on the beanbag chair I was supposed to put away and the mountain of homework I’ve been avoiding like the plague.

My bed is shoved against the wall, with a few posters from the park taped to the ceiling. They’re older ones I saved from the trash pile. I like the retro designs. Mom used to help make them: I don’t know if she did these exact ones, but I like to think so.

This was Ivor’s room, but I commandeered it as the new oldest when he got married and moved out.

Sometimes, I find myself missing the sounds of Tristian in the bottom bunk.

We’d shared a room forever. But, more or less, I’m used to my alone time now.

This room does have a great view of the castle spires and doesn’t smell like Tristian’s farts.

I was planning on moving into the FTG apartments when I graduated high school, but then freaking Dad dropped the bomb that they’re tearing them all down next year to build an addition to the park.

Apparently, we were wasting valuable real estate – Dad’s words.

It’s fine. I’ll pivot. I’m the guy who never lets anything bother him.

Garrick, it’ll just roll off his back – no worries.

And sure, usually that’s true. But when I lie here in the dark, just me with my thoughts as company, those worries aren’t so easy to let slide off.

I need Fairytale Gardens. I don’t know who I’ll be if I’m not the dashing knight in this dusty old theme park.

Tristian is making college plans, and while campus life does have its appeal, the actual classes do not.

Everything is changing, and I just want it to stay the same.

Ever since Mom died, it’s been hard to keep my footing.

Everywhere I step is a pile of quicksand.

My body is constantly on high alert so I don’t fall through a trapdoor.

I just need to make sure this holiday season is freaking amazing. Then at least one thing can stay the same.