15. Fiona
Chapter Fifteen
FIONA
I’m halfway up the stairs when my phone buzzes again. I glance down at the screen, and my stomach knots.
Lorcan: Call me. Now.
As if I have nothing better to do.
I slip the phone into my pocket, not wanting to look at Lorcan’s name, especially when I can hear Aubrey crying from the living room and the soft sound of Riley singing as she tries to soothe her.
I disappear into my room and quietly shut the door behind me.
My heart hammers in my chest.
What could Lorcan possibly want this time? With every demand, the stakes get higher until, at some point, it will all come to a head, and either Lorcan walks away, or Cormac does.
But not both.
A few minutes later, a knock sounds at the door.
I straighten instinctively, smoothing my hands down my sweater as if those handful of creases are the difference between him forgiving me or not.
When I open the door, he doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. He steps inside and stalks over to the window, putting that familiar distance between us.
For a moment, he just looks at me. Not the way he used to, like he was memorizing me, but like he’s assessing the risk of being near me.
I swallow. “Lorcan messaged again. He wants me to call.”
Cormac’s jaw tightens.
He moves further into the room and sits on the edge of the bed.
He exhales slowly, his elbows braced on his knees and his hands clasped together like he’s physically holding himself back. “I don’t want you to call him yet.”
I don’t bother asking why. I know he’ll have his reasons. “Okay.”
He lifts his gaze to mine. “I want you to explain it to me. All of it. Make me understand.”
“I’ve already told you—”
He shakes his head. “Not like that.”
I frown. “I don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Help me trust you… Or at least tell me why I should try.”
He wants to trust me?
Hope flares in my heart before I can stop it.
“Really?” I ask quietly.
He opens his hands. “I’m here. I’m listening. And that’s all I can promise right now.”
It’s not forgiveness, but it’s not a brick wall either.
I draw in a shaky breath and tell him everything.
Not the version I’ve already given him in fragments and half-confessions, but the whole, ugly truth.
I tell him how trapped I felt, how Lorcan made it sound like there was no other option. How every time I thought about telling Cormac, I pictured Amber’s hospital room, the machines, and the look in Skye’s eyes if she learned she had lost a sister as well as a mother.
“I didn’t think I was choosing Lorcan over you. I thought I was choosing them, and…I thought I could fix it before you ever found out.” My voice breaks.
The crease between Cormac’s eyebrows deepens, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“I hated myself every time I lied to you,” I whisper. “Every single time. And I swear to you I will never keep something like that from you again. Ever. Even if it costs me everything.”
Cormac says nothing, and the silence is unbearable.
I would rather have him rage at me or throw things at the wall. Anything is better than him just sitting on the edge of the bed, looking like a man completely worn down and broken.
“All I’m asking for is a chance. You don’t have to forgive me. I just… I need to know if you’re even open to it. Open to the idea of us finding our way back.”
When Cormac finally speaks, his voice is rough with emotion.
He keeps his eyes down, focusing all of his attention on his words. “You were desperate.”
Tears run down my cheeks as I hear the pain in his voice. “Yes.”
His shoulders heave as he takes a deep breath before finally looking up at me, and for the first time in days, I see a flicker of the man I was falling for. “And desperate people do stupid things.”
My knees almost give out. “Yes.”
He looks away for a beat, lost in his own thoughts.
“I…can accept that,” he says slowly. “What I can’t promise is that I’ll be able to forget it.”
“I’m not asking you to,” I say quickly as I cling to the lifeline he’s offering me. “Just…don’t shut me out.”
Cormac considers my words for what feels like an eternity.
“I’ll try,” he says at last, and the emphasis he puts on the word makes it both a gift and a warning. “That’s all I’ve got right now.”
Relief crashes through me so hard I have to press my lips together to keep from sobbing.
But it’s short-lived because my phone starts incessantly buzzing, a brutal reminder of why we’re in this mess in the first place.
Cormac stiffens as I pull out my phone and glance at the screen.
“It’s him,” I say.
Cormac looks from me to the phone, and I see the doubt flicker in his eyes before he can hide it—a reminder that this isn’t over, and that it might never fully be.
“Answer it,” he says.
I nod before answering the call and putting it on speaker.
“Lorcan.”
“I was starting to think you’d forgotten where your priorities lie,” Lorcan snaps.
I glance over at Cormac to see he’s staring out the window with a faraway look in his eye.
The only sign that he’s listening is the fact that he’s white-knuckling the comforter.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“I need something. Cormac needs to disappear for a few days. I don’t care where, just get him out of the city.”
Cormac’s attention snaps back to me.
“What should I say?” I mouth.
“Say you’ll do it,” he mouths back.
I nod.
“How am I supposed to do that?”
Lorcan scoffs. “That is your problem to solve, not mine.”
“But…”
“But nothing. Just get it done.”
“I’ll… uh… I’ll figure something out.”
“Good. I’ll be in touch.”
The call ends just as quickly as it began, and I lower the phone slowly, my hand shaking.
Cormac watches me, his expression unreadable.
“What do you think he’s planning?”
“I have some ideas.” His tone is clipped.
“Like wh—”
A soft knock sounds from the door.
It’s so faint I almost wonder if I’ve imagined it.
But when I open the door, I find Scout standing there, clutching the edge of his sleeves, his eyes darting behind me to where his father sits on the bed, like he’s not sure whether he’s allowed to be here.
Cormac is already on his feet. “Scout? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he says quickly, glancing at me.
“Did you want to come in?” I ask tentatively.
He hesitates, his eyes flicking to his dad once again. Then they come back to me and lower to the floor. “Do you not like me anymore?”
He might as well have stabbed a knife into my chest.
“What? Scout, no, of course I like you!”
His eyes stay glued to the floor, his voice small. “But you don’t hang out with me anymore. We used to play with dinosaurs and make pancakes, and now everyone is acting weird.”
“I didn’t want to be in the way,” I tell him honestly. “I thought you would want to have some alone time with your dad. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
Cormac appears behind me.
I turn my head just enough to catch Cormac’s expression out of the corner of my eye.
He doesn’t look angry. Instead, he looks like a worn-out father who hasn’t slept in days. “I told Fiona to give you space. I’m sorry if that was the wrong call, bud.”
Scout’s head snaps up.
I look questioningly at Cormac.
Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
Cormac catches my eye and subtly nods his head in Scout’s direction.
Realizing what he’s suggesting, a huge smile breaks out over my face. “Hey, Scout. Why don’t we go downstairs and make some cocoa for everyone?”
Scout’s eyes brighten just a little. “Really?”
“I’m sure everyone could use a little chocolate fix.” I bend down to whisper in his ear. “Especially your dad.”
Scout nods enthusiastically before sliding his hand into mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
The three of us head downstairs together, Scout already chatting away about the ratio of marshmallows to whipped cream.
I let him ramble, grateful for the distraction not just from Lorcan but also from my conversation with Cormac.
For now, I think a sense of normalcy will be good for all of us.
The low lights of the kitchen feel warm and inviting.
Scout immediately darts into the pantry so he can sneak some extra marshmallows when he thinks I’m not looking.
Cormac takes up a position at the island, leaning against the counter and watching with quiet curiosity. His gaze flicks between Scout and me as we get to work, pouring the milk into the pan, but he doesn’t say anything, though something in his expression softens.
I’m acutely aware of where I stand in this space now, like I’m not fully welcome but I’m not blacklisted either.
Once the cocoa is ready, Scout clambers up onto a stool and lines up all of the mugs.
“Dad, Fiona said we could have whipped cream too.”
Cormac huffs out something that might be a laugh. “Of course, she did.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling as Cormac pretends to be annoyed.
That’s when Ciara appears in the doorway. She takes in the scene in one quick sweep, clocking Scout on the stool, with Cormac searching the fridge for cream, and me at the counter.
Her eyebrows lift slightly, surprise flickering across her face before she quickly schools it into something neutral. “Well, this looks cozy.”
“We’re making cocoa.” Scout drops a handful of mini marshmallows into a mug.
“Or rather, marshmallows with a side of cocoa.” I raise my brows at Scout, who smiles sheepishly as he stuffs some extra marshmallows into his mouth.
“Obviously.” Ciara chuckles.
She comes to stand beside me, leaning her hip against the counter. Her shoulder brushes mine, and I feel the silent acknowledgment in it.
I glance over and meet her eyes and offer her a small smile.
“Want any help?” she asks me.
“I’ve got it,” I say, then hesitate. “But you’re welcome to join us.”
“Oh, I wasn’t planning on leaving.” She grins at Scout.
Scout chatters away as I pour the milk into the mugs.
The sound fills the kitchen, and for a moment, it almost feels like it did before all the secrets and the lies.
Before Lorcan.
I hand Scout his mug first, and he blows on it dramatically.
“Careful.” Cormac reaches out to steady the cup.
Ciara offers Cormac a reassuring smile. “He’s got it. Right, Scout?”
“So good,” Scout says through a mouthful of marshmallows.
It’s enough to ease the tension in Cormac’s shoulders.
I quickly make up another mug, adding a mountain of cream on top, and sliding it across the island at him.
Our eyes meet, and I smile, hoping he can see how much having this time with him and Scout means to me.
Cormac doesn’t look away even as he takes a long sip of his cocoa.
But when he sets his mug down, I have to clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle my laughter.
“What?”
Scout clocks the whipped cream mustache that Cormac is sporting and bursts out laughing.
Cormac frowns. “Is there something on my face?”
“Not at all,” I say, feigning innocence.
I catch Scout’s eye, and the two of us burst into laughter.
Cormac narrows his eyes as he takes another sip, leaving an even bigger streak of whipped cream behind that sends his son into a fit of giggles.
Hearing Scout laugh again makes my heart feel like it could burst.
Cormac meets my gaze across the island, and something unspoken passes between us.
And for the first time in a long while, I let myself believe that maybe there is something left that is worth saving.