Page 52 of The Chief
The door opened a moment later, Nora standing on the other side now dressed in jeans and a low-cut white top. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head in a messy knot, her face free of make-up. She looked younger this way—more like Molly.
“Cait, I’m so glad you’re back. Orla just got home.”
“She’s here?” Molly replied, happiness clear in her voice, then without waiting, she rushed inside. Following Molly’s voice, I found her already in the jungle-themed living room, her arms wrapped around a girl.
Orla had the same dark hair as her mother and sister, and the same build too. The only thing different was the color of her eyes. They were a vivid shade of chartreuse. Orla startled when she saw me step into the room, making Molly pull back and glare at me.
“Cait, who’s this?” Orla asked, her voice soft and melodic. She was so different from her sister, but what little I knew about them both, I could only blame it on all the shit Molly had gone through.
Molly made a face. “Orla, this is my … fiancé.”
Her sister’s eyes went wide. “You’re engaged?”
I strode forward, engulfing Orla’s hand in mine and bringing the back of it to my lips. Now was the time to put my good boy persona to use. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Orla.”
Orla’s yellow-green eyes flicked from my face to her sister’s. “Is he always this charming?”
Molly snorted, then smiled sweetly at my glare. “He has his moments.”
After releasing Orla’s hand, I slid my arm around Molly’s waist and kissed her deeply. Her fingers came to rest on my chest, where they flexed in the fabric of my shirt. I released her and brought her to sit in my lap on the couch. She tried to get away, but I only held her closer, letting her feel what she did to me.
Orla sat on the nearest chair, smiling at us. “I’m glad to see you’re happy, Cait,” she whispered.
“I’ve never not…” Molly started, then paused, clearly unable to finish her thought.
“Tell me about Caitria before I met her,” I prompted, just as Nora came through the doorway with another tray of tea and a plate of biscuits. It was so fucking domesticated and far from how I’d grown up that it was slightly jarring.
“When she was younger, I remember her joking with me, playing games, and being silly. She would always tell the best stories to help me fall asleep,” Orla said, reaching toward the plate and snagging herself two biscuits.
I was ravenous for more information, but opted to tread a little more lightly from here. “What changed?”
Orla nibbled on the edge of a biscuit as she thought. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I felt like she was sad, so I tried to cheer her up, but…” she shrugged, not finishing her thought.
“She became a teenager,” Nora interjected. “That’s all it was. She changed after she went through puberty.”
I glanced at Molly, trying to piece together this information. I hadn’t ever seen her behave anything but seriously. What had happened to cause her to change?
“Keir?” Nora said, and I glanced over to find her holding out a cup and saucer. I took it from her with a nod, releasing my hold on Molly to take a sip.
“Let’s not talk about me anymore,” Molly said, leaning forward to grab a biscuit. I cleared my throat as she settled back into my lap, causing her to look at me. With a sigh, she offered me a bite, rolling her eyes at me when I licked her finger as I pulled back. “Orla, what’s been going on at school?”
“Not much. Busy with assessments. My friends and I are planning a trip to London when we have our next break.”
Molly’s shoulders visibly relaxed when it became clear Orla was none the wiser about her shadow.
“Any boyfriends I need to know about?” Molly asked, making Orla’s eyes dart away from her sister’s face.
“No. Why would you say that?”
Molly peered at me before clearing her throat. “Just asking.”
“Right,” Nora announced with the clap of her hands. “Keir, wouldn’t you love to see some baby photos of Caitria?”
“Mam!” Molly exclaimed outraged, at the same time I gleefully replied, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
It was late—edging past two in the morning—and Molly and I had made our way upstairs to her childhood bedroom. She’d been chatting with Orla for hours until her sister’s yawns became too frequent to ignore.
“You look happy,” I commented.
