“I’m Avaleigh.” My voice trembles slightly, lower lip wobbling. I didn’t realized how hopeful I’d been when I heard her laugh.
Her laugh.
“I’m her daughter.”
The woman, Sheila, smiles warmly as she brings a hand up to my cheek, her thumb wiping the lone tear that escapes from my eye. “She used to always say if she had a girl, she’d name her Avaleigh after her great-grandmother and Liam’s.”
I sniff. “He told me.”
Her gaze narrows, shifting to Liam.
“You couldn’t have warned us?” she hisses at my father. “How long has she been with you? Why didn’t you call us? We would’ve come down sooner. How did you find her?”
“Sheila.” The man behind her reprimands. The woman flinches slightly, barely a micro expression. I look at my father to see if he sees it, but his relaxed demeanor tells me he doesn’t. “Now is not the time.”
“Oh.” Sheila deflates mildly. “Of…of course not, dear.”
“Hello, Avaleigh,” the man introduces himself. “I’m Seamus McDonough. Your grandfather.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” I try my best to smile brightly, reaching out and shaking his offered hand. My teeth clench at the strong grip he has on my hand, pressing my fingers together painfully.
“Same to you.” He lets go and puts his arm around Sheila. “Liam, you have my number. We’ll be in town another few days. Reach out, and we’ll have lunch.”
Liam nods.
“Of course, Seamus,” he confirms. “I didn’t realize you’d be in town. I would have arranged something sooner.”
“Some of my shipments ran into some trouble,” Seamus McDonough sneers.
“You’ve never had problems at the shipping ports before,” Liam points out, befuddled. “Let me know if there is anything I can do to help. The Kavanaughs are always here for the McDonough clan.”
Seamus snorts. “It’s nothing we can’t get sorted out ourselves, boy.” He dismisses my father with a short flutter of his hand. “Just a few rats taking a part of the cheese that doesn’t belong to them.”
“The offer still stands.”
Seamus’s lips thin. “Understood. Let’s go, Sheila.”
Sheila bites her lower lip; conflict splashes across her face. “But?—”
“Now, Sheila,” Seamus barks. Sheila lets out a heavy sigh before casting me a bleak smile and following her husband.
“Something isn’t right about him,” I tell Liam when they move out of earshot. “Did you see the way she reacted to him? She was afraid.”
“Seamus can be a hard man, but he’s never laid a hand on his wife,” Liam assures me.
“I think you’re wrong,” I protest. “She acted like he was going to hit her at any moment. Trust me, I know the signs.”
“You can’t keep going around making these accusations, Avaleigh.” Liam’s voice darkens, an edge seeping into his tone. The same one he had when I mentioned Marianne.
“And you can’t keep assuming that everything I put forward is bullshit because you think you know someone better,Father,” I growl at him. “I’m not accusing anyone of anything. I’m stating an observation based on years of experience. Sometimes a freshset of eyes can provide clearer details that someone else might have missed.”
“You’ve done nothing but state your opinion since I rescued you,” he snarls in my face, his body shaking, hands clenched at his sides. “Do you think you can throw your opinion around like that when you don’t know anything about our world? Or the people? Those are your grandparents. That is your grandfather you are accusing of domestic violence. A man I’ve known nearly my entire life, who helped raise me when my own father died, who has always had my back. And you expect me to, what? Just drop everything because you think you see something that might or might not be there?”
“No,” I hiss, the adrenaline hitting me before I have a chance to push it back. “I want you to listen and observe. I want you to take a step back and try to see it from my perspective. I didn’t ask you to go around accusing him. I didn’t ask you to go beat the shit out of him. I asked you to consider my side.
“I thought I could share what I’ve seen, what I’ve learned, but you are just like everyone else.” There is no stopping me now. I am on a roll. “You don’t want to listen to what I have to say unless it’s convenient for you. Unless it fits your narrative. You don’t want to believe that my mother was kidnapped because then you have to question everything you’ve known about her. It’s easier to write her off as the bad guy than believe you’ve let a snake into your bed.
“You don’t want to hear about Seamus because then you’d have to reevaluate how you were raised, and I get that it’s hard, but it was hard for me to come to you. And if this is how it’s going to be, if this is what it’s going to be like being your daughter, constantly questioned and never believed—then I don’t want to be your daughter.”
