Isla pulls up a chair next to my father. “Hello, Sorrow. It’s nice to meet you.”
We reach for one another. We could’ve been twins at my current age. Even three years older, she doesn’t look much older than I am. We hold hands. Her hand is warm. Her grip is firm but gentle.
“How are you feeling, little sister?” Her eyes search my face. They widen. She must see the resemblance.
“Overwhelmed.”
“I imagine so.”
Jesus, she speaks as I would talk. I love her already.
Her gaze drops to the hollow of my neck. “The blue morpho butterfly. It’s my favorite butterfly.”
Dad puffs out a breath. “Oh boy is it. She has a large canvas in her apartment with what looks to be a million of them.”
“Ten thousand, Father. By the way, Uncle Cillian offered a million for the piece.”
Dad scoffs. “Don’t give in to him. Don’t sell it. That piece is priceless. It was your first after . . .” Dad cups Isla’s neck and brings their heads together. “It was the first painting you completed after the incident.” His face darkens again, like he’s reliving a memory.
A memory. My nightmares. A man choking on his own blood. Risking being vulnerable with my family, who are still strangers, I tell them about my nightmares.
“I wouldn’t put it past someone to put two and two together and blackmail the son of a bitch. That piece of shit must’ve killed two birds with one stone. Kill the blackmailer and stop him from talking and demanding money. It’s what I would have done.”
Unbelievable and scary. “You’re a cop.”
“We’re McCabes. Remember that, Daughter. Your family is dangerous, and we look after our own. McCabe for life.”
“McCabe for life,” my sister repeats with reverence on her face.
“Is that who I am?” I stare at the strangers in front of me. I wish Trace were here to hold me in his arms and tell me everything will be all right. Except he doesn’t want to see me. Why doesn’t he?
“Yes, Daughter. You are Sorrow McCabe. For life.”
28
Sorrow
“How are you doing, girly? From your social media posts, you are living it up in the Bay Area.”
Leigh smiles at me from my phone’s screen. I’m sitting at the breakfast bar with my wireless earbuds in, my dad serving me breakfast. Isla is rearranging my closet. She took me on a shopping spree and absolutely spoiled me with name brand clothes I would never have spent money on.
“Everything’s fine,” I mumble.
“It’s not. You’re frowning. It’s all you do.”
She calls me out, and I’ve always liked that about Leigh. “I miss you guys. Believe it or not, I miss the small town and its drama.” I haven’t heard from Ember. Rush has been quiet too. Is everything okay with them? I’ve only been in San Francisco for three weeks, but it feels like a lifetime.
“Then come back. Graduate with us. Follow us to DU.”
“Trace—”
“Was suspended for two weeks.”
“For getting caught getting oral in the bathroom,” I suggest snidely.
“Not for that reason, but who’d you hear the lie from?”
“Phoebe.” A lie? “She played an audio of it. It was Trace’s voice, Leigh.”
