Maeve

Gemma was sitting at the kitchen island, pouring a hefty amount of cream into her coffee. She stirred in two spoonfuls of sugar before setting the spoon down and lifting the mug to her lips.

I was standing near the sink, the carafe of coffee in my hand as I prepared to pour myself a mug. It had been a long night with little sleep. Dad had finally gotten me into my bed, tucking me in without even giving me an opportunity to take my boots and coat off, acting ...