“Hypothetically, yes,” he confirms, his brows furrowing. “Unless there were others willing to come forward.”
“Others?” I echo, stomach churning.
“There’s usually others, Niall,” he says, his voice low, heavy enough that it feels weighed down by experience. “Men like that... they don’t just stop with one.”
That makes me feel sick.
A cold dread washes over me. I picture Molly, small and fourteen, and then I picture other girls, other lives he’s touched, other wounds he’s left behind. It’s too much. I can’t sit here anymore.
I stand up abruptly, unable to sit still any longer. “Thanks for the tea.”
Uncle Paddy stands too, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Niall—if you’re in trouble—”
“I’m not,” I say quickly, pulling away from his touch.
He studies me for a long moment before nodding. “Alright. If you need anything—anything at all—you know where I am.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, heading for the door.
I don’t know what I expected—some magical solution maybe—but now I just feel worse.
??` ?? ?´?
“NIALL!” LORRAINE LAUNCHESherself at me when she opens the door, her body a blur of pink pyjamas and blonde hair. I just manage to catch her, staggering back a step.
“Hey, Ray. Did you ever come up with that nickname for me?”
No,” she says, sliding off me, and crossing her arms with a pout. “You’re too hard to nickname.”
“Fair enough.” I ruffle her hair as she lets me in, making her squeak and swat at my hand. “Where’s your sister?”
“In her room. It’s her birthday eve, did you know?”
“I did,” I nod, letting her grab my hand and pull me towards the Lockhart’s large staircase.
Five minutes later, I’m in Molly’s room. She greets me with a big hug and a kiss, the over affection making me feel worse somehow instead of better. It’s like she’s trying to convince herself she’s okay.
“You ready for tomorrow?” I ask, her arms looped around my neck and mine around her waist.
She nods. “Yesss. I can’t wait.”
Finn promised last week to throw her a party (at my house, mind you). I want to ask her if she’s still okay with that, if it won’t be too much for her. But I have a feeling that she would tell me she’s okay with it whether she is or not.
My knee throbs as I sit on the bed with her, pain shooting up my leg.Fuck. Just when I thought I was out of the woods with that. Wishful thinking, I suppose.
I shift my weight, trying to ease the pressure, but it’s no use.
“Are you really okay?” I ask her, turning to face her. She lays back on her pastel-bedspread, and I follow. “You don’t have to be. After yesterday...”
“I don’t want to think about yesterday. He’s gone. He’ll stay gone.” She avoids my gaze, picking at a loose thread on the blanket.
“Molly...”
“Niall,” she says, matching my tone, biting her bottom lip. “Please. Just... leave it.”
I look at her. I can tell she’s trying so hard to be brave, but I can see the fear in her eyes. I want to push, to demand that we talk about it, that we do something, but I can’t.
I sit up a bit, taking her face in my hands. “I love you. Okay?”
