Chapter 35 Avonna
thirty-five
Avonna
A Few Weeks Later
The catering tent is fast becoming my favorite place on tour.
I love the energy. The clink of utensils on compostable plates.
An occasional burst of laughter from a nearby table.
Folding chairs scrape against the plywood floors laid down over grass.
Crew members and artists move through the buffet line, nodding to each other over steaming trays of roasted vegetables, garlic chicken, and vegan curry.
Beyond the flap is the artist village lined with dressing rooms and green room trailers. A place to disappear if you need to. No one here is trying to stand out.
No matter how famous, everyone belongs.
I should be eating. Instead, I’m staring across the table at Liam McGloughlin.
His fingers curl around a plastic fork, forearm braced on the edge of the table. The scent of cumin and woodsmoke wafts through the air. His eyes are locked on mine, steady and unreadable.
He’s intense. Watching me like I’ve already said something important, even though I haven’t uttered a word.
“You were unreal today.” He squints like he can see inside my brain. “The way you bare your soul, I have no idea how you do it.”
I know I should be used to compliments, especially from the McGloughlin twins, but increasingly Liam’s words don’t feel casual. They land somewhere low, between my ribs, and unfurl.
He leans back, beanie low, curls escaping the sides. His black tee clings to his pecs, tattoos crisscross over thick, veined forearms. He looks like memory and prophecy at once.
Liam’s held Linus’s heart for years. We’ve shaped our bodies and desires around the space he left. Now he’s in front of me, flesh and breath, unaware he was never erased.
Only missed. Only waited for.
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, trying to will myself to stay in the moment with him.
“You weren’t stealth.” I take a bite of salad. “I saw you watching.”
“You always catch me.” He smirks.
It’s true. Every time we play the same bill, I find him in the crowd. Face unreadable. Posture tense like a held chord. Scrutinizing me with singular focus, like he wants to memorize my breath patterns.
You caught me first, I think to myself.
He spears a piece of chicken. “You’re easy to watch.”
“Oh yeah?” I laugh. “So are you.”
Our flirtation has been building for weeks. A look. A compliment. The way he always finds a reason to hover near my sound check. I’m not na?ve to the effect he has. Liam doesn’t throw himself at people. He doesn’t charm. He observes. Broods. Draws you in by holding back.
God, does it work.
Linus noticed before I did. How often Liam came up in conversation. How my gaze always drifted toward the stage when he was near. He isn’t threatened. He understands. Encourages it. He knows Liam and I forging our own bond is important if we’re gonna pull this off.
About a week ago in Paris, Linus had me on all fours, a vibrator pulsing deep in my pussy while he fucked my ass with his cock.
“You think about him when we fuck?”
My wail was the only answer he needed.
He thrusted deeper. “Me too. I see the way he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching. Do you know how hard I get knowing you’re spending time together while I’m handling business. I’m not jealous, baby. I’m counting down the days until this is real.”
“When it’s all of us?” I whispered, pushing back against him.
“Aye.” His hand snaked around to stroke my clit. “I want to see you ride him. Want to be buried in your ass while he fills your pussy.”
“Yes,” I squeezed around him, coming intensely. “I’ll give you everything. I want him to see how good you fuck me. I want to watch him fuck you. I want it all.”
“He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s ours.” Linus grimaced as he erupted inside me.
Good gravy. I’m soaking wet. So aroused I consider running to the bathroom to make myself come.
Liam stabs another bite, then sets his fork down. His hand slides across the table. Hesitates. Then closes around mine.
It’s warm. Rough. Callused.
I don’t move as he studies our hands like they’re something familiar. My heart races. I bite my lip until it bleeds, pretending I don’t want to climb into his lap and ride him until we both forget our own names.
“Can I ask you something?” I say, mainly to distract myself.
He nods, thumb stroking along the inside of my wrist.
“Your lyrics. Do you ever try and go deeper? Beyond the driving, angry energy to access the brutal stuff?”
He watches me now, curiosity edged with something else. “Why?”
“You’re good at the nuance. I have to scrape myself raw.” I pause. “It’s how I process.”
“Process what?”
God. Of course. How would Liam know about my past?
“I grew up in a religious sect where girls didn’t get to choose anything.” I try to keep the confession high-level. “What to wear. What to say. Who to marry. What to believe. Pleasure wasn’t ours. Curiosity was punished. Deviation from the norm wasn’t…possible.”
His expression isn’t judgmental. More like protective.
“I escaped when I was sixteen. The day I was supposed to marry a man who could’ve been my grandfather.” I squeeze his fingers. “I’d never kissed anyone. I didn’t even know how to touch myself.”
Liam’s eyes flash, but he doesn’t look away. His grip on my hand tightens.
Deciding to confess my innermost secret to Liam feels natural. “I spent two years in therapy unraveling an intense level of shame. Then I went further and learned how to reclaim my body. My pleasure. My voice. Writing is the only way I can name what was stolen and what I took back.”
“Avonna. Wow. What you describe is the bravest thing I’ve ever heard.” Liam’s eyes glisten. Not quite tears, but deep emotion.
I shake my head and lock my gaze on his. “No. Surviving was instinct. Learning to embrace the things I enjoy during sex was what took courage.”
He studies me for a long time. Fascinated. Terrified.
“I went through phases of learning,” I continue, deciding to air it all out. “Watching myself. Touching. Allowing someone else to. Giving and receiving pleasure without shame.”
His mouth parts slightly.
“It wasn’t casual. It was structured. Intentional.
The final phase was when I had sex with two men.
” I tilt my head. “Not for shock. Through a lot of work on myself, I knew what I wanted. Experiencing it first in a therapeutic setting was safe. I know my body inside and out. What feels good. What I need emotionally.”
Liam goes very still.
“I don’t share this with many people.” I lean in closer. “In fact, outside of therapy, you’re only the second person who knows. Knowing and accepting myself gave me my life back.”
His tongue flicks across his bottom lip. “Jesus.”
“You said you didn’t know how I write the way I do.” I look up to the sky and back to him. “Now you do.”
Liam exhales fully, like a wall lowering brick by brick.
“I wish I was as brave.” He shakes his head. “I’m holdin’ back, Avonna. You can see right through me. I wish I could bleed through my music the way you do.”
“You’re right on the edge. I think you can if you allow yourself permission.”
He snorts. “You think so?”
“Yes.”
Liam looks away for a while. Then he stares into my eyes. “Your line, ‘They wrote my vows in ash, long before I bled.’”
My breath catches. “Yeah?”
“It haunts me.”
He doesn’t let go of my hand. Doesn’t look away.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” His voice dips. Accent thicker now, words heavier. “But it makes me think about my da. He nearly killed me once. Caught me with a guy. Didn’t hesitate. Knocked me out cold. My little brothers saw it.”
I blink. “Liam…”
“My ma made excuses. Padraig covered the destruction, which made me feel like a loser. Connor packed us off to college like a problem to be solved. Said it was to keep us safe, but it felt like banishment. We’ve lost years with my brothers, I don’t really know them.
Oh, and sometimes I wonder if I keep this fuckin’ band alive because I love it or I’m afraid to admit defeat.
Padraig gave up everything to stay with me and I don’t fuckin’ deserve it. ”
The weight of his voice lands in my chest like a stone.
“I’ve never unloaded so much on a friend.” He winces and buries his face in his free hand.
I’m touched. Stunned. “Why me?”
“I don’t know.” He swallows. “You don’t ask me for anything. You listen. There’s somethin’ about you I click with, you don’t make me feel like a burden.”
I rub my thumb along his. “You’re not.”
He stays quiet, but something in his posture loosens.
“I know about you and Linus.” I try to keep my voice even. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
He looks down at our hands.
“I’m not here to fix you, Liam. I’m not here to figure you out or ask you to be anything other than honest.” I wait, let it land. “I’ve spent years learning how to feel safe in my body. I know how heavy it is when you don’t.”
He exhales. The silence between us isn’t tense. It’s full.
I continue to run my thumb over his knuckles. “You’re allowed to feel. Nothing about you scares me. Do you know what you want?”
He pauses. “Aye. I do.”
“Then you should write it.”
He looks at me like I’m dangerous. “With you?”
“Sure. If you think it will help.”
He nods once. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
A beat passes. Then two.
“You’re so different from anyone I’ve ever met,” he says finally.
“So are you.”
He glances down at his phone. “Shit. I’m runnin’ late. Come see our set?”
“Of course.”
He doesn’t move right away. Our fingers remain laced. We stare into each other’s eyes. Filled with everything we haven’t said yet, but will.
He squeezes my hand once, then lets go.
It’s not a promise.
Or a goodbye.
It’s our beginning.