Page 66 of Blindsided
Kane looks like he wants to argue, but Declan chooses that moment to stand, folding his map with military precision.
“Time to move,” he announces. “Same cars as yesterday. We’ll meet at the Bank of Ireland on College Green.”
As we gather our meager belongings and settle our bill with the proprietor, I find myself watching Kane. There’s a new tension in his shoulders, a coiled energy that wasn’t there yesterday. He’s moving toward answers now—real, concrete information about his past, his family, his identity. And I realize I’m nervous for him. What if what we find in that safety deposit box only brings more pain?
Outside, the morning is crisp and clear, the rain having washed away the previous day’s gloom. As we walk to the cars, Kane falls into step beside me.
“Ride with me?” he asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
“Of course,” I say, as if there was ever any doubt.
Chapter 23
Kane
I feel like I should be saying something—asking about her husband’s threats or sharing my own worries about what we might find in Dublin. But as we drive away from the little border town, following Declan’s car through the winding country roads, I find myself oddly content with the silence between us.
Kori gazes out the window, her profile illuminated by the morning sun. There’s something different about her today—a quiet strength that wasn’t there yesterday. The woman who fled Toronto in tears is, before my eyes, transforming into someone who faces skeletons and Russian conspiracies with remarkable composure. Well, aside from that panic attack, which was completely understandable given the circumstances.
“What?” she asks, catching me staring at her during a straight stretch of road.
“Nothing,” I lie, quickly returning my attention to driving. “Just thinking.”
“About the safety deposit box?”
“Among other things.” I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, a nervous habit I’ve never been able to break. “Are you worried? About your husband coming to Ireland?”
She sighs, turning to face me fully. “Not worried, exactly. More... resigned. Mark has always been good at tracking me down when I try to create space. It’s part of his control thing.”
“Sounds healthy,” I say dryly.
“Oh, incredibly,” she agrees with a small smile. “Nothing says ‘loving husband’ like refusing to respect boundaries.”
“What will you do if he finds you?”
She’s quiet for a moment, considering. “Tell him it’s over. That I’ve contacted a divorce lawyer. That there’s nothing to discuss.”
“And if he doesn’t accept that?”
Her expression hardens in a way that makes something in my chest tighten. “Then I’ll make him accept it. I’m done being the accommodating wife who shrinks herself to fit into the box he’s created.”
I can’t help but smile at the determination in her voice. “Good for you, Airplane Girl.”
“What about you?” she asks, turning the tables. “What are you hoping to find in this safety deposit box?”
It’s a fair question, and one I’ve been avoiding since we found Tomas’s letter. What am I hoping for? Answers, certainly. But beyond that?
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Part of me wants to find my sister, to know she’s okay. Part of me wants to find Tomas, preferably alive, so I can punch him in the face for everything he’s put us through. Although he’s in his eighties, so that would constitute elder abuse, I’m sure,” I pause, considering. “And part of me wishes we’d never found that first letter, that I could go back to being just Kane Murphy, family disappointment, instead of Kane MacGallan, missing heir or whatever the hell I am now.”
“Do you really mean that?” she asks softly. “You’d rather not know?”
I consider this as we pass through a small village, its stone houses huddled together against the morning chill. “No,” I finally admit. “I needed to know even if it hurts. Even if it changes everything.” I glance at her. “What about you? Do you regret finding out about your husband and sister?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “No. It was devastating, but I needed to see it. I needed to know the truth about the man I married. About my sister.” She looks out the window again. “Sometimes the most painful truths are the ones we need most desperately.”
Her words settle over me, resonating with something I’ve been feeling but couldn’t articulate.The pain of discovery—of finding out my father wasn’t my father, that my uncle was actually my biological dad, that I have a sister I never knew—it’s excruciating. But necessary. Like lancing an infected wound.
“Do you think you will ever forgive your sister?”
