“Always,” I whisper, voice already breaking.
Avonna guides me into her, groaning as her heat wraps around me. Linus breaches my ass with his fingers coated with lube. I rock forward into Avonna as he begins to open me, his mouth at my neck, his voice in my ear. “Let us spoil you.”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Do it.”
We fuck with reverence. With need. Knowing whatever waits beyond this room, we’ll face it together.
Avonna’s breath hitches as she calls my name. Linus buries himself deeper, growling low against my neck. We break together, all nerves and want and devotion.
When it’s over, we stay where we are. Skin to skin. Breathing in sync.
Outside, the world demands more than it ever gives back.
The band. The spotlight. The weight of everything we can’t control.
Here, there’s no audience. No agenda.
Only us.
The quiet, burning certainty we’ll always have each other.
fifty-eight
Linus
Three Days Later
Maureengreetsuswiththe kind of warm authority only a mother of six can summon.
Apron on, she opens the door like we’ve been expected for hours.
Even if dinner’s still finishing and the house is packed with family.
Sloane and Quinn hesitate at the threshold, wide-eyed. At nearly three, they don’t remember much from when we lived in Seattle, and the sheer size of the McGloughlin clan takes a moment to absorb.
Liam steps in behind me, easing the door closed with one hand while his other settles at my waist. It’s grounding, familiar. Avonna lingers a beat on the porch,taking it all in. Her hair catches the sunlight, sunglasses perched casually on her head.
She doesn’t flinch at the noise, the motion, the overlapping voices. She’s steady. Comfortable in herself. The woman we married is fully present in this life the five of us built. Her softness, her power.
All worn without apology.
Inside, the house brims with noise and heat. Cillian emerges from the living room and greets Liam with a clap on the back before crouching to offer Quinn and Sloane each a high five. Connor’s already in the kitchen setting out a tray of soda bread. Ronni follows with one of their twins on her hip, laughing at something Brennan says as he slips past with a stack of plates. Rory’s deep in conversation with Seamus.
Sloane darts in first, Quinn on her heels. They pause like they always do, reading the room before charging ahead. Cillian waves them toward the living room, where a pile of toys waits near the fireplace.
Connor’s twins are tucked into a playpen, wide-eyed and sticky-fingered, making garbled sounds at each other as Connor’s wife, Ronni shakes a jingle giraffe above their heads. Next to them, Rafferty bounces on Padraig’s lap, chubby fists gripping his dad’s hoodie while Mara sits quietly beside him.
Liam freezes beside me. Then he swears under his breath.
“Ohshit.” His eyes widen.
I follow his line of sight. Stevie Hayes stands near the back of the room, half-turned toward her sister, Joni. She has longer hair. Sharper edges. Same presence.
Avonna looks between us, confused but calm. “What?”
“Whoa.” Liam doesn’t take his eyes off her. “Stevie.”
“Wait,theStevie?“ Avonna looks over.
