Chapter 15
Kane
I wake up wondering where the hell I am as sunlight streams across my face from unfamiliar windows. For a moment, I panic—another blackout? Another strange bed? Then last night comes flooding back.
Kori. The midnight swim that somehow made breathing possible again.
The cottage is quiet as I sit up, my back protesting from a night on the sofa.
It’s comfortable enough, but I’m too tall for it, my feet dangling over the armrest all night.
Still, it’s better than wherever Declan and the others are staying.
At least here, no one’s looking at me with that mixture of pity and curiosity that makes my skin crawl.
I check my phone; seven missed calls from Declan, three from Kat, and a single text from Wren that says, “He’s worried, not pissed. Call him.”
Like hell I will. Not yet, anyway.
The smell of coffee draws me to the kitchen where Kori stands at the counter, her back to me.
Her hair is even more chaotic this morning, sticking up in tufts that somehow make her look younger, more vulnerable.
She’s wearing the same oversized t-shirt from last night with a different pair of sweatpants, and she’s humming something under her breath—some pop song I vaguely recognize.
“Morning,” I say, my voice rough with sleep.
She jumps, nearly spilling the coffee she’s pouring. “Jesus! Make some noise when you walk, will you?”
“Sorry,” I grin, not sorry at all. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
She narrows her eyes, but there’s no real heat behind them. “Coffee?”
“God, yes.”
She hands me a mug, and our fingers brush. That same weird spark of familiarity hits me again, and I almost drop the cup.
“Sleep okay?” she asks, leaning against the counter.
“Not bad,” I lie. The truth is, I barely slept, my mind racing with questions.
“Liar,” Kori says, seeing right through me. “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”
“You really know how to make a guy feel special.”
“It’s a gift,” she deadpans, then gestures toward the fridge. “I made eggs. They’re probably cold by now, but food is food.”
Sure enough, there’s a plate of scrambled eggs waiting. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until this moment. I haven’t eaten since... I can’t even remember. Yesterday’s breakfast, maybe?
“Thanks,” I say, genuinely touched by the simple gesture.
We eat in companionable silence at the small kitchen table. Through the window, I can see the sea, calm and blue under the morning sun, nothing like the dark, freezing beast we plunged into last night.
“So,” Kori says eventually, “what’s the plan for today?”
I sigh, setting down my fork. “I should probably call Declan before he sends out a search party. Then head to the Hill of Tara, I guess. See what this riddle is all about.”
“And find your sister,” she adds softly.
“Maybe,” I agree, though the word feels inadequate. A sister. Someone who might have answers about Tomas, about why he kept us apart all these years.
“What about you?” I ask, deflecting. “What’s on the agenda for your Irish exile today?”
She shrugs, tracing the rim of her coffee mug with one finger. “More beach combing, probably. Maybe walk into the village for supplies. Fascinating stuff.”
There’s something in her voice—a hint of loneliness, perhaps—that echoes my own. Before I can think better of it, I hear myself saying, “Come with me.”
Her head snaps up. “What?”
“To Tara. Come with me.” I’m as surprised by the invitation as she is, but now that it’s out there, I don’t want to take it back.
“Kane, that’s family business. I’d be in the way.”
“You wouldn’t,” I insist, suddenly sure of this. “Look, I need... I need someone there who sees me as me. Not as Tomas’s secret son or Declan’s newfound brother or whatever the hell I am to them now. Just... me.”
She studies me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “And who exactly is that? Who are you, Kane Murphy?”
It’s a fair question, and one I don’t have a good answer for. “I have no fucking idea,” I admit.
“But I’d like to find out. And for some reason, having you around makes that seem less terrifying.”
A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “You know how to flatter a girl, don’t you? ‘Please come with me and my mobster family because you make my identity crisis marginally less horrifying.’”
“When you put it that way, how can you refuse?”
She laughs, shaking her head. “This is insane. I came to Ireland to get away from drama, not dive headfirst into someone else’s.”
“Sometimes the best way to forget your own problems is to immerse yourself in someone else’s,” I point out.
“Is that from a fortune cookie?”
“Alcoholics Anonymous, actually. Or it might have been a bartender. The details are fuzzy.”
She snorts, but I can see she’s wavering.
“Fine,” she sighs heavily, but there’s a smile playing around her lips. “I’ll come. But only because the alternative is talking to Mrs. O’Malley about her rheumatism again.”
“I’ll take it,” I grin, already reaching for my phone. Time to face Declan and whatever family reunion awaits at the Hill of Tara. At least now I won’t be facing it alone.
As I dial, I watch Kori rise from the table, carrying our empty plates to the sink. There’s something graceful about her movements, something genuine that cuts through all the noise in my head. For the first time since finding out about Tomas, I feel a flicker of something that might be hope.
Of course, that feeling lasts precisely as long as it takes for Declan to answer the phone, his voice tight with barely contained fury.
“Where the hell have you been?”