16 | The Sister Trap
The Sister Trap
Molly
WINNING ALWAYS FEELS great, but it’s never felt as great as this.
I’m not sure what came over me when I launched myself into his arms. I mean, I’ve never been a touchy person by any means, but I didn't even have a second thought until after he set me back down on the turf.
“And then—hic—the ball is coming in, right? And Joey, he just... he becomes the Matrix! He’s bending space-time! It is beautiful, lads. I nearly weep.”
I’ve been goaded into coming to the team’s post-game celebration at Mulligan’s. None of us really should be drinking, but somehow JJ has gotten his hands on a pint or two, which is why he is alternating between recounting game highlights and recounting the plot of Finding Nemo.
“His Mam is gonna kill him,” Gerard cackles, sipping his soda through a straw.
The five of us—Niall, Joey, JJ, Gerard, and I—are packed into a booth in the far corner, close to the one we eat lunch at.
Finn and Maxwell go home with their mom after the game, and Niall promises he’ll drive me home if I come with them to celebrate.
Mom is out in Dublin tonight, again, and Lorraine is at a sleepover with one of her ballet friends. So I don’t really mind spending a little extra time out.
“I think we better get going,” Joey checks the time on his phone. “It’s nearly eleven already. Ger, help me get this wanker into the truck, will ya?”
“Will do,” Gerard says, grabbing JJ’s arm and hauling him upward. JJ lets out a wail of protest. “You can drop us both off at mine, I’ll text Auntie Ro.”
Niall and I follow them out to the parking lot, tearing off and going our own way to Niall’s car. Niall opens the door for me, before rounding the front and getting in. He doesn’t start the car right away.
“Is your Mam home tonight?”
I shake my head. “She’s working. And Lorraine’s at a sleepover.”
He nods, finally starting up the car and putting it into gear. “Ya up for a detour?”
??ˋ ?? ?ˊ?
“BEEN HERE YET?”
I shake my head, clutching the sides of the seat as Niall navigates the gravel lot. I know the water is nearby and there’s a beach part, further down the road off my house, but I haven’t explored this stretch.
The wind is whipping the tall, marram grass at the beach’s edge. The moon is only half-full, casting a silver light across the dark waves. It is beautiful in a way that feels lonely.
“There’s some small docks further down if you walk,” Niall says, before getting out of the car. I follow.
It is freezing, but Niall doesn’t seem to notice. He’s just wearing his Saints hoodie, hands stuffed in his pockets, his head tilted back as if he is trying to read something written in the stars.
We reach a small, weathered wooden dock that stretches out over the water.
It looks ancient, the wood silvered by salt water and time.
Niall hops onto it effortlessly, then turns, offering me his hand.
I hesitate. Just for a heartbeat. My brain screams danger, but my heart...
my heart is already gone. I reach out and let him pull me up.
His grip is firm, but his touch is surprisingly gentle, his fingers lingering against my palm just long enough to ensure I am steady before he lets go.
“So,” I say, my voice sounding thin against the crash of the waves, “you always bring girls out to the water after games? It’s a bit serial-killer esque, if you ask me.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “No. Just sometimes—I come here when I need to think... look at the stars and stuff. Alone.”
“So I’m third-wheeling on you and your mind?” I say, sitting down on the edge of the dock, letting my feet dangle above the dark, swirling water. Niall sits beside me, close enough that our arms brush when he does.
“He drowned,” Niall says out of the blue, staring straight ahead at the water.
I’m confused for a minute, before it slowly dawns on me. “Your father?”
He nods, his gaze fixed on a point far out at sea. “Out past the harbor, which is way over—” He gestures vaguely eastward, “—but yeah. He fell over. There were people in another boat who saw but they weren't able to help him quickly enough.”
I don’t say anything—because what can I say? Sorry? That’s meaningless. No words I can offer would do anything to make him feel better. Instead, I lean into him. I let my shoulder press firmly against his, offering the only thing I have—weight. Presence.
Niall exhales sharply, a ragged sound that is lost to the wind. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes. “Feck,” he mutters, rubbing his hands over his face. “Didn’t mean to just... dump that on you. I’m a real catch, aren’t I?”
“No,” I say quickly. “It’s okay.”
He glances at me, his dark eyes—dark as the water at our feet—searching mine with an intensity that makes my breath hitch.
The feeling—the thing I’ve been trying to categorize as a ‘silly crush’—surges up in my chest, suffocating me.
For a second, the space between us seems to vanish.
I can see the individual lashes on his eyelids, the slight tremor in his breath.
I think he might kiss me. I want him to kiss me.
I stand up abruptly, nearly stumbling on the uneven wood. “I’m freezing,” I half-lie, my voice sounding high and frantic. I am cold, but it isn't why I stood up. “Can we walk?”
He nods, his expression shifting back to that guarded, neutral mask. “Yeah. Sorry. Let’s move.”
We walk in silence along the shore, the sand shifting and groaning under our feet. I feel like an idiot. A complete and utter coward. But the thought of feeling his lips on mine, of letting someone actually in... it feels like stepping off a cliff without a parachute.
“Here,” Niall says suddenly, and then he is pulling his hoodie off.
“Wha—oh, you don’t have to do that—”
“I’m fine. I’ve got Irish blood, ‘m used to the cold.” He holds out the hoodie to me, and doesn’t look satisfied until I pull it over my head. His scent and warmth are draped over me like a hug I don’t have to reciprocate.
“Thank you,” I mumble, pulling the sleeves over my hands.
Niall reaches out, carefully, tucking a loose strand of wind-blown hair behind my ear. His fingers linger for a second before he pulls away.
“Come on,” he says, gesturing toward the car. “I should get you home before you catch pneumonia and O'Shea kills me for breaking his new star player.”
It only takes five minutes to get from the Strand (that's what Niall calls it) to my house.
Niall pulls up in front of the massive stone steps.
My house always looks like something out of a Gothic novel at night, imposing and looking like it is crawling with vampires.
But tonight, I am still riding the high.
I have his hoodie on my shoulders. I have the memory of him spinning me around on the pitch.
I have the look in his eyes on that dock.
I’ve had crushes before, that usually end in awkwardness or tears. I like to think I am the kind of person who learns from her mistakes, who is level-headed and knows not to get caught up in a boy.
But Niall Blue feels like a mistake I am willing to make over and over again.
“Hey,” I say as he kills the engine. “You want to come in for a sec? I can get you some water. Or a snack? I think we have some of those fancy cookies my mom buys but never eats because they have too many calories.”
“Alright,” he says after thinking for a minute, a small smile playing on his lips. “I could go for a fancy biscuit.”
“Cookie.”
“Bis. Cuit.”
We laugh as we climb the steps. My ribs throb slightly as I reach for the heavy brass handle, but I barely feel it. I feel light. I feel... happy. The house is silent, smelling of expensive candles and lemon polish. I kick off my shoes, feeling the plush rug beneath my toes.
Maybe if he tries to kiss me again, I won’t panic.
“Just through here,” I whisper, gesturing toward the kitchen. Niall follows, his own shoes abandoned by the door.
We walk past the main living room, the one with the high ceilings and the fireplace that is never lit. I see a light on, a warm glow spilling out onto the polished floorboards.
“Molly? Is that you?”
My stomach plummets through the floor.
My mother is home. Great. Just great.
“Yeah, Mom,” I call back, my voice tight. I slow down, my heart starting to pound for an entirely different reason. “I’m home. I have a friend with me so just—”
I stop dead in the arched doorway. Niall is right behind me, so close he bumps into my back, his hands automatically reaching out to steady himself on my waist. I barely register the touch. My entire world has just narrowed down to the woman sitting in the armchair opposite my mother.
She’s older than me—maybe twenty-four or twenty-five. Her hair is darker than mine, sleek and straightened. She’s wearing a tailored blazer and expensive-looking jeans. An absolute stranger of a person in a familiar body.
Wake up. Wake up from the dream.
“Who’s this?” Mom asks, her voice airy as she gestures toward Niall with a glass of Pinot Grigio. She looks at me, her eyes tracking the oversized Saints hoodie, and a knowing look crosses her face. I don’t even have the power to get upset over her bemused, motherly expression.
“This is Niall,” I say, my voice sounding like it belongs to someone else. I look at Niall, then back at the woman in the chair, and just as quickly look away. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. “Niall, this is my mom. And that’s Jamie.”
I swallow hard.
“My sister.”