sixty-one
Linus
Eighteen Months Later
Fireballisstillburningbrightly.
Though it’s been years now, the headlines still say resurgence.
The awards say something stronger. Multiple Grammys. Songwriting accolades. Crowds we once dreamed of now showing up early and staying late, singing every word back to us.
The new record cuts deeper than anything we’ve ever made. Cleaner. Smoother. Honest. Music built for long drives. Sitting alone with your thoughts. Critics call it mature.
I call it earned.
We tour, but carefully. Short US runs. Select European festivals. The money is excellent, steady enough to make choices instead of sacrifices.
Padraig’s still in, but on his own terms. Present, professional, no longer mentally bound to the band the way he once was. The band began as twin brothers and now is centered on Liam and Avonna, the creative gravity shifting without announcement.
Success creates space to ask challenging questions. Should Fireball continue in its current shape, defined by history and loyalty? Or will the next chapter belong to something new. Built from the ground up without dragging the past along.
No decisions yet.
Only awareness. Futures can change.
Liam carries it deeper than he ever lets on.
I see it after shows, when the stage goes dark and he lingers at the edge, staring as if something important might still be waiting there. Offers keep landing in his inbox. Fashion houses asking him to front campaigns. Luxury brands dangling endorsements. Stylists pitching covers and spreads. He’s done a few. Smiles for the camera. Wears the clothes. Takes the check.
The spotlight isn’t what he thought it would be.
He talks about the future now without mentioning songs or tours. His thoughts drift toward home. Toward the girls. Toward mornings instead of soundchecks. He wants to build something lasting, something quiet enough to breathe inside. The attention follows him everywhere, but it never fills the space music once did.
When Avonna and I reach for him, he holds us longer now, grounding himself in the weight of us, in the warmth of what we’ve built.
The three of us have grown into an impenetrable unit in ways I always hoped. Not only lovers. Parents.Protectors.
Sloane and Quinn move through our lives with a steadiness born from routine and vigilance. Shannon is a steady presence. A private tutor comes to the house now, guiding them through kindergarten and into first grade. Their safety is our first priority.
Always.
The threats directed at Avonna changed everything.
Federal agents speak in measured tones and long timelines. Rumors circle about the sect losing its grip. Investigations widening. Doors finally closing.
None of it moves fast enough to ease Avonna’s fears, so we build walls where we can. Choose privacy. Control.
Avonna takes the weight with grace I still don’t fully understand.
Her voice carries across worldwide stages in so many forms. Strong and unflinching, impossible to ignore.
NPR invites her back again and again, not for promotion, but conversation. Journalists clamor to interview her about art, motherhood, faith rebuilt on her own terms.Voguephotographed her barefoot in linen, a woman who refuses polish for permission. Late-night hosts stop joking when she answers, realizing she isn’t there to charm. She’s there to tell the truth.
Podcasts line up. Women-run panels. Creative collectives. She sits across from activists and other artists who recognize something familiar in her eyes. Survival. Clarity. Refusal. Her words travel faster than Fireball’s songs now, shared in memes and reels and handwritten quotes taped to mirrors and notebooks.
Wherever Fireball plays, the crowds lean in. When she sings, it feels personal. Not performance. Confession. Communion. Women cry openly. Men stand still, stunned. The songs land somewhere deeper than sound, in places people forgot existed.
The world wants to name her. Icon. Survivor. Feminist anthem. Spiritual rebellion. They circle closer to the three of us, curious about the men she chose. Hungry to define what we are, to label the shape of our family and turn it into something digestible.
