Juice: The O'Malleys Book 1, contemporary Adult Romance Read Free

for the doctor, I’m afraid.” She pointed a long candy-floss coloured pink fingernail towards the corridor. “Take the lift up to the second floor and wait in room one, first door on your left. A doctor will be there shortly to talk you through the procedure.” Cass couldn’t move, she just stared at the clock on the wall behind the receptionist. Cold and impersonal, black and white. The ticking of the metal hands holding her captive in that moment.
    She felt her father gently take her stiff hands from the counter. He held them in his own as he guided her towards the lift.
    “What will happen Daddy?” she asked looking into his eyes. She needed him to take away the pain and the worry, like he had always done when she was little. She never called him daddy anymore. Now, it seemed necessary somehow. He rubbed her cheek gently, his fingertips cold and dry.
    “We will wait and see Cass; he’s in the best hands here. They need to work on him. Come on, we’ll go and wait.” Cass smiled softly up at him . Oh dad, I’m so sorry this is happening to you. So sorry for your pain. She couldn’t mouth the words so let him lead her away by the hand instead. A small kind of comfort for them both.
    Brian held her hand tightly and reached out for Alice, who folded easily into his embrace.
    “All we can do is wait and hope he’s strong enough.”

    Rory O’Malley looked out of the window onto the farmland that surrounded his home. Each of these fields bore the footprints of his past, his heritage. The hills lush and green had been toiled by his grandparents own hands and their grandparents before them. This land was in his blood. Every memory from his youth was tied up within the boundaries of this place. Hayrides with his brothers and sisters, milking cattle, herding sheep, baking with his granny and mama. His first drink, his first kiss, they had all happened here on this land. The land he loved.
    He watched his sister Annie from the window.
    Her long dark brown hair was flying in the breeze. She was sitting outside on the wall talking to their father, Gearóid. Their heads close as though they were whispering about something grave. He knew it was serious. The family meeting they had held the night before had been hard. His sister Aoife was dying. There was no easy way to sugar coat the inevitable. His baby sister was running out of steam. When she had been born twenty four years before, Rory had counted her fingers and toes and marvelled at her chubby cute face. He had truly believed she was the most perfect thing he had ever seen. She was the first girl born into the O’Malley family for over fifty years. The most special gift, but their gift was sick. Cystic Fibrosis, his mammy had told him. He didn’t fully understand what it all meant being only six years old. But, he knew it meant they had to be very careful around Aoife, he had to wash his hands very carefully before he held her. As she got older, Aoife had developed a love affair with books. The only thing that calmed her through an episode of breathlessness was to have Rory tell her a story. And he did, he would sit at her bedside for hours reading to her. Lovingly recounting every story his grandfather O’Malley had told him. The stories were their legacy, dutifully passed down by word of mouth from generation to generation. Old Irish tales of princesses and fairies, pirates and high Kings. Aoife’s favourite story of all was the true story of Grace O’Malley. Or Gráinne Mhaol, as she is known in Ireland. A formidable sixteenth century Irish shipping magnate and ferocious pirate. She was rumoured to have been the most beautiful and brave Irish woman of her time. According to their grandfather ‘the boss man O’Malley’, they were directly descended from Grace O’Malley and her clan. That meant they were fighters, survivors. Aoife, would be a fighter too and she was. Every time she picked up an infection and was admitted into hospital, she fought it. She