Seventy-Five
Harkin Redford
My Mother was dead. My fiancé was in a coma. I should have been with Penelope, but it didn’t seem right telling my father that my mother was dead over the phone. Or with a text. I was certain he had heard because the footage of the explosion was everywhere. But I needed to be at home. I went back to Ireland.
Waiting for me there was my sister, Jamie, who was back from school. She was tall, skinny, with the same red hair as me and the same freckles. She sat on the staircase, looking as miserable as I felt.
“Harkin!” she called. She rushed over to me, wrapping me in a hug. “They called me from school.”
“I know,” I said glumly. “I’m so sorry you’re back this way, Jamie. I wanted you to come back for a differ
