Molly must be able to hear the strain in my voice. She doesn’t push. She’s perceptive like that, always catching the things I tried to hide—like my knee. Instead, she gently shifts her gaze to the next cluster of frames and changes the subject.
“Who’s this?” she asks, pointing to a larger, candid photo.
In it, my dad is sitting on a picnic blanket, holding a toddler up in the air. The toddler has bright blonde hair and a gap-toothed smile. Sitting next to my dad is a beautiful woman with long, pale blonde hair, and a toddler version of me is sitting on her lap with my fists in my mouth. My mother sits on the other side of da, holding a baby version of Claire in a pink sunhat.
“That’s JJ,” I say, the tightness in my chest easing just a fraction as we move away from the solo portrait. “And that lady holding me is his Mam.”
Molly looks back and forth between the photo and the corner of the living room, where JJ is letting Lorraine balance a glittery butterfly clip on the bridge of his nose while he holds Atticus like a newborn baby.
“JJ is in a lot of these,” she notes, her eyes scanning the wall. And it’s the truth. JJ has always been a permanent fixture in the Blue household. Birthdays, Christmases, random Tuesdays. The blonde boy was always there, usually tucked right next to me.
“Yeah, he practically lived here growing up,” I explain, leaning my shoulder against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest. “His mother and my parents all grew up together. We were born inseparable.”
“What about his dad?” Molly asks, her brow furrowing slightly as she searches the frames. “He’s not in any of these.”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. It wasn’t my secret, but JJ has never cared who knows. It’s always just been a fact of his life. “His da was a Russian doctor. Came over here for work, met Auntie Roisin, married her because she got pregnant. But he... well, he wasn’t exactly the family type.”
Molly turns to face me fully now, her attention entirely locked onto my words. “What happened?”
“He left,” I say flatly. “Packed his bags when JJ was four and went back to Russia. Just up and vanished. Last we heard, he had a whole other family over there.”
Molly’s eyes soften, a flash of genuine sadness crossing her features. “Oh my god. That’s awful. Poor JJ.”
“Yeah. It was rough on them both. But my dad...” I pause, looking back at the picnic photo. My dad, holding a laughing little JJ up to the sun. “My dad was there. He practically raised JJ alongside us. Taught him how to kick a football, taught him how to ride a bike, everything. He was always a father figure to him.”
Molly stays quiet for a long moment. She looks back at JJ and her sister.
“That’s really sweet,” Molly says finally, her voice thick with emotion. She leans back against the wall next to me, our shoulders inches apart. “I have to admit... When I first met him, I thought he was just this massive goof-off. You know, loud, obnoxious, doesn’t take anything seriously.”
“Oh, he is all of those things,” I snort.
“But he’s sweet, too,” Molly corrects me, a fond smile touching her lips. “You can tell he cares deeply about the people he loves.”
I watch my best friend as he lets an eight-year-old girl put another hair clip in his hair, this one bright pink.
“Yeah,” I murmur, the truth of it settling over me. “He’s all bark, no bite.”
Molly turns her head toward me, her eyes catching the afternoon light filtering through the hallway window. “And what about you?”
“What about me?” I ask.
She takes a tiny step closer, and my heart hammers against my ribs like it's trying to escape. “Are you all bark and no bite, Niall?”
I look at her and can only think of last Saturday and the absolute terror of wanting to kiss her so badly it felt like I was drowning all over again.
And that feeling is creeping up for its encore.
I open my mouth to answer, to tell her that I didn’t know what the hell I was, but I get interrupted by a loud, triumphant cheer from the other side of the room.
“I made my decision!” Lorraine announces at the top of her lungs, standing on the coffee table with her hands on her hips.
The spell between Molly and I breaks. She lets out a breath that sounds a little shaky and turns away.
“Alright, let’s hear it,” Molly says, crossing her arms. “Which one is it?”
Lorraine points dramatically to the multi-coloured fluffball currently climbing up JJ’s foot. “Penelope. I want Penelope.”
“A fine choice,” JJ nods sagely, sitting up and adjusting his hair clips. “She has the heart of a warrior and the brains of a slightly damp sponge. She will serve you well.”
