You had to knock her up now?
Padraig grins at me, like he knows what I’m thinking. “Don’t worry. I’ve got earplugs. I never want to walk in on the three of you fuckin’ again.”
“Seriously?” Mara frowns slightly.
Padraig winks at her. “It’s a runnin’ joke now. I survived.”
This is the first I’ve heard of it being a joke.
“I’m happy for you,” I manage. It’s not a lie. It’s not the truth, either.
He shrugs. “Wasn’t planned. But I’m not mad. We’ll figure it out.”
“Besides.” Mara smiles wider. “We’d love to meet the twins.”
My face freezes. “You’ve had over a year.”
Padraig tenses but says nothing.
Avonna touches my arm. Light. Reassuring. I hate I need it. Hate the distance between me and my twin.
We don’t say more. We don’t need to. We’ve had too many years of this. Building the dream, letting it fall apart, chasing it again. This time, it was supposed to be different. Clean. Rebuilt from scratch. Avonna’s the future. The music is coming fast and deep, like something we can’t outrun.
We were supposed to finally be Fireball again. Another day. Another road bump.
Avonna drapes her shawl across her shoulders and gives us a look. “It’s time.”
“We should go.” Linus appears beside us, checking his phone. “The cart’s outside. They’re expectin’ you on the carpet in ten.”
He meets Avonna’s eyes, then mine. His expression is smooth, unreadable.
Mara takes Padraig’s arm. Linus offers her a polite smile. “Come with me. Let Fireball have their moment.”
She hesitates. Doesn’t make a scene but you can’t help but notice the flicker of irritation.
Not my problem.
Avonna steps between me and Padraig, looping one arm through mine and the other through my brother’s with a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.
Linus nods toward the exit. “Let’s do this.”
The golf cart waits at the curb. Bright lights pulse beyond the barricade. Flashbulbs. Voices. Media lines.
Fireball’s first public step forward.
We haven’t released the album yet. We haven’t even booked the full tour.
Tonight, we show up.
Avonna. Padraig. Me.
The future might still be tangled, but the spotlight is ours. And it’s time.
Her heels hit the floor with a soft thud.
Avonna’s dress is halfway unzipped, her hair wild. The scent of perfume lingers on her skin. She’s spent from the party. Hours of smiling. Attention she still doesn’t quite love.
I close the door behind us, lean back against it. My chest is tight. Not in a panicked way. In the way it gets when I’m too full of something I don’t know how to name.
