Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

CATLIN

“Catlin O’Flaherty,” Uncle Sean sternly calls, following me as I make my way through the church. Ignoring him, I step into the hallway, running behind the altar, and continue toward my residence.

“Catlin Aine O’Flaherty!” he shouts this time as I shove through the doors into the courtyard. His tone, reprimanding me like a child, causes my feet to cement in place. Standing just beyond the threshold, I contemplate letting the heavy door slip from my fingers to make a barrier between us. Instead, I close my eyes and let out a deep breath before turning to face him with a faux-smile.

His brows are lowered, and his lips are tightly pursed, accentuating his firmly disapproving scowl. The gaze boring through me carries the same condemnation. He’s angry. Furious, even.

“I don’t want you associating with those people, Catlin,” he declaims.

“Those people?” I exclaim. “ Those people—Quinn, Layla, and Jorge—are the first nice people I’ve met since I got here.”

“I have tried to be subtle about it, but you don’t seem to understand,” he lectures. “You don’t know who they really are. They are not good people. I don’t want you around them.”

Rolling my eyes, I huff. “That’s very Christian of you , Father O’Flaherty .”

“Don’t sass me, Catlin,” he snips.

“Then stop treating me like a child.” I cross my arms and stare back at him.

“Then stop acting like one.” He scoffs. “You are an employee of this church—and my niece—how you live your life is a representation of our beliefs and teachings. I will not allow you to associate with those… sinners . The lot of them are nothing but murderers, thieves, and seductresses.”

Seductresses? He can’t be serious . My new friends from lunch might be—or have been—a little adventurous with their sex lives, but so were at least half the girls I went to boarding school with.

But murderers?

Clearly, he’s not referring to the three wonderful people I spent my afternoon with. There’s just no way. Of the rest of them, I’ve only met Finn. Sure, he’s a total flirt… But a killer? He seems so… sweet.

“Are you listening to me, Catlin?” Uncle Sean snarls, noticing my lack of attention to his rambling. “You aren’t to spend time with them.”

“You’re serious?”

“Deadly,” he confirms. “I expect you to be pleasant and cordial with them inside the confines of this church—where it’s safe—but I don’t want you seeing them beyond these walls.”

Arching an inquisitive brow, I ask, “Where it’s safe?”

“They don’t bring their troubles in here. I don’t worry about anything happening to you in here, but I can’t say the same out there.” Uncle Sean’s demeanor softens, and there’s a bit of softness in his previously anger-filled gaze. His pained words catch in his throat, “You don’t know what kind of danger you’re putting yourself in being seen with them in public, and I can’t risk losing you. My brother would never forgive me.”

“Uncle Sean…” I softly exhale as he closes the distance between us and pulls me into an embrace; it’s so tight that it feels like he’s trying to never let me go. “You aren’t going to lose me.”

“I know you aren’t a little girl anymore”—his words vibrate against the top of my head—“but I’m begging you to listen to me on this. Stay away from the Evans family.”

As he continues to squeeze me tightly, I know he’s waiting for me to acknowledge his request. But it’s a promise I can’t quite bring myself to give him. These are the first people I’ve met since getting here who actually welcomed me into their tight-knit group.

The first people ever actually.

I’m not quite ready to let that go.

Releasing me from his suffocating embrace, he urges, “Can you promise me that?”

No… I can’t.

“Catlin?” he presses.

Not wanting to lie—or upset him—I give the only answer I can muster. “Uh-huh.”

“You always were such a good girl.” He smiles down at me with pride. “Your parents would both be so proud of the woman you’re becoming. I know I am.”

That’s me…

Always the good girl; following the rules and doing exactly what is asked and expected of me. What I want is always to be an afterthought so that I don’t upset Uncle Sean, Máthair Chríonna , or even the sisters who ran the boarding school.

Leisurely walking through the courtyard to the convent, I can’t help but think about it more. Pushing to move to New York is the first time I’ve ever actually made a decision for me. It’s the only selfish choice I’ve ever made. My phone dinging in my purse drags me from thoughts. I pull it out to find a few text messages.

QUINN

I made reservations for the four of us. Tuesday at six.

LAYLA

Sounds good!

JORGE

And if you change your mind…

My thumbs linger over the screen as I weigh my conversation with Uncle Sean. It’s lunch with a few people I connect with. How bad can being friends with them actually be?

Looking forward to it!

JORGE

Yes, girl! I am going to get to wingman the fuck out of you this weekend!

The lunch! I mean about the lunch!

LAYLA

Pretty sure you just absolutely crushed him. LOL.

Sorry, Jorge.

JORGE

It’s fine. I’ll just cry into my rosé

Or the hairy muscular chest of my date tonight.

“ Gross,” I mutter at the thought of my face being pressed into a hairy chest as I set my things on the table and shake my head.

Uncle Sean isn’t going to like this. Not one bit.