Page 6 of Our Cracked Pieces
I nodded, and went back to eating my breakfast, satisfied that my brother believed me.
Two more months.
Chapter 4
Lorcan~
It was Saturday morning, and I’d slept like the fucking dead. After another shitting Friday of Mr. Hostettler’s crap, I had not been in the mood for people. So, when Vanessa had insisted on going to a spring break kickoff party without me, it had led to a huge fight that ended with her hanging up on me, but not before calling me a selfish asshole. I, in turn, had vented to Josh, and being the best friend that he was, he had come over with an eighteen pack of beer.
After drinking the entire thing-nine beers each, thanks to his older brother, Lance-Josh and I had passed out around one in the morning, and the guy just barely left about an hour ago. Now, fresh out of the shower, I was feeling rested without the slightest bit of a hangover.
Heading into the kitchen for some food, I saw Molly sitting at the kitchen island, typing away on her laptop. “Hey, Molly Doll,” I said.
She didn’t look up once. “Hey.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Yeah,” she said, her eyes still glued to her computer. “Like three hours ago.” She jerked her head towards the microwave. “There are a couple of egg and sausage sandwiches in the microwave for you. You just have to heat them up.” Molly wasn’t much of a cook, but the sweet girl tried. However, breakfast was the one meal she could do.
“Thanks.”
“Also, Mom and Dad are leaving this afternoon for Hartford. Some medical conference or something. They’ll be back on Wednesday.”
Lorcan Cavanaugh Sr. was a very gifted neurosurgeon, and the entire world knew it. The man was brilliant, dedicated, and determined. All traits he had instilled in his children.
Our mother, Emilia Cavanaugh, was a homemaker and a damn good one. She took running the Cavanaugh household seriously, and she did it with pride. She was the perfect physician’s wife, and a damn good mother.
Compared to a lot of rich households, Molly and I had no complaints. While our parents were constantly busy, they were still good parents. Their house, their cars, their money, their success, and their prestige hadn’t turned them into assholes.
Well, not to me and Molly, at any rate.
I reheated the breakfast sandwiches as the sounds of clacking keyboard keys filled the kitchen. “What are you working on?”
“A new blog entry.” Molly was a social media guru, but not in the self-absorbed way that most internet fame seekers were. Molly had a very popular blog that focused on building women up instead of tearing them down.
Pulling the sandwiches from the microwave, I walked over to the island, and started eating my leftover breakfast. The only sound in the kitchen was Molly typing away, and though loud, it still felt peaceful.
After a few more moments of typing, Molly stopped and announced, “Done.”
Now that she wasn’t consumed with her blog, I asked, “How are you doing? Any plans for the week?”
“Not really,” she replied. “Maryanne and Crystal want to take a trip up to The Bay, but I’m not trying to get arrested for any underage anything.”
Molly was one year younger than me, and a junior in high school. And though our parents’ money could buy us out of a lot of trouble, we respected our parents, and tried hard not to act like entitled assholes. Molly more so.
Standing at only five-foot-five, Molly Cavanaugh was a force to be reckoned with. She was smart, fierce, funny, popular, and had a way about her. She had charisma and people liked her. From the ages of three to ninety-three, people just liked Molly.
She was also the prettiest thing around. Of course, that was me being bias, but Molly had a smile that made people feel like they were at home. And I wasn’t being conceited in saying that we both looked alike. We’d taken after our father with his black hair and grey eyes, and it was obvious we were siblings. Especially, only being one year apart.
“I think I’m staying home, too.”
She quirked her head to the side. “Problems with Vanessa again?”
With our parents busy all the time, Molly and I were close. We took care of each other and actually spent a lot of time together, just hanging out. I liked my sister, and she liked me back. So, we shared things most siblings our age wouldn’t. And as much as I trusted Josh, Molly was the person I trusted most in the world.
“I think she’s cheating on me,” I admitted, right before polishing off the final bite of my second breakfast sandwich.
Grey eyes that matched mine narrowed. “I’ll kick her fucking ass,” Molly threatened, and I believed her. Molly may be petite, but she was a scrappy little thing.
