Chapter 58 Linus
fifty-eight
Linus
Three Days Later
Maureen greets us with the 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.
“Oh shit.” 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, the Stevie?“ Avonna looks over.
“The one.” I glance at Linus.
Liam exhales, disbelieving. “Wow. Not on my bingo card today.”
“Oh,” he says. “Fuck.”
Avonna’s brow furrows. “What now?”
“Our mom’s are best friends, I didn’t realize she would be here today” He rubs the back of his neck.
The room feels smaller suddenly. Louder. The familiar chaos cushions the edges.
Liam huffs a short, stunned laugh. “Jesus. Padraig didn’t mention any of this?”
“Padraig doesn’t mention anything lately until it’s already happenin’,” I remind him.
Avonna doesn’t speak. She’s watching closely, reading the moment instead of reacting to it. She doesn’t know Stevie. Only knows the history through what Liam and I have told her about.
Liam straightens when Stevie finally turns to see the three of us. Her face changes instantly. Surprise. Recognition. Something softer underneath.
She crosses to us. “Linus, God. It’s been a long time.”
“Too long.” I offer my hand, and she pulls me into a hug instead. Her scent is all memory. Summer nights and wafts of lilac.
She turns to Liam, who’s unreadable. “Hi, old friend.”
“Hey, Stevie.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “This is Avonna Parilla. Avonna, Stevie Hayes.”
Avonna’s smile is immediate. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard…” she glances at me, then Liam, “so much about you.”
Stevie grins. “Same here. Sounds like you’ve got your hands full with these two.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Avonna chuckles.
They exchange a short hug. Brief, natural. When they step back, there’s an unspoken understanding between them.
Padraig motions for Stevie to join him from across the room. The minute she’s out of earshot, Liam mutters, “Deja fucking vu. No wonder he was bein’ a little bitch about going on tour.”
“Do you think they’re together?” Avonna stares after them, eyebrows raised.
I glance between them both. “Dunno. You saw it, right? The way he looked at her?”
“Aye,” Liam scoffs. “The man dragged me for being secretive. Meanwhile he’s probably fuckin’ his ex and keepin’ it on the down low?”
I lean against the wall, still processing. “He probably thought we’d all flip.”
“I’m not flippin’.” Avonna smooths her hand over Liam’s back. “I think it’s kind of sweet.”
Liam gives her a look. “Sweet? It’s going to make this tour even more of a circus.”
“Everything with this band is a circus,” I remind him.
Dinner is loud. Comforting. A flurry of half-eaten rolls, toddlers begging for dessert, and familial chaos. Evenings at the McGloughlins are often bittersweet for me because of the situation with my own family. I miss them.
Next to me, Liam leans into Avonna’s side, stealing a bite of mashed potatoes from her plate.
Across from us, Padraig pretends to follow the conversation Seamus and Connor are having about the upcoming football season.
Cillian’s telling Brennan some long-winded story, half-yelled over the kids all making dramatic sound effects and giggling like lunatics.
I can’t keep track of it all. Don’t need to.
When Maureen stands and grabs a bunch of dishes, Avonna nudges me under the table.
“Go help,” she mouths, nodding toward the kitchen where Maureen’s already disappeared.
I kiss her temple and rise.
“Aye. I’ll do the dishes.” I grab what I can from our end of the table.
When I nudge the door open to the kitchen, Maureen looks up at me with a knowing smile.
“Thought you might offer.” She nods her head toward the dish towel. “Come on, then.”
The kitchen is warm with steam and the low hiss of water running into the basin. I set the bowls beside her and start scraping plates while she rinses and stacks.
For a while, we move in rhythm, her washing, me drying. The window overlooking the back yard fogs slightly from the heat.
After a few minutes, Maureen speaks. “Any change with your parents?”
I keep my eyes on the plate in my hands. “No.”
“They haven’t asked about the girls?”
“No.” I pause. “They haven’t asked about any of us.”
She nods and passes me another plate. “Ah.”
I dry in silence. She and I have never had this conversation before.
“The last time we saw them, Avonna was pregnant.” I turn to her. “Now, we send letters. Photos. So they know our girls are healthy and loved. Keep things positive.”
She lets out a soft sound, not pity or disapproval. More like presence.
“Instead of a response, Mum sent a clipping from some Catholic newspaper. Highlighted the bit about eternal damnation.” I shake my head. “Said she’d failed me.”
Maureen’s hands still in the water, then she dries them, sets the towel aside, and turns to face me.
“You’re a good man, Linus. A beautiful father. A loyal partner.”
“They don’t see it.”
She doesn’t flinch. “They never looked.”
I grip the edge of the sink, steadying myself.
“They’re missin’ everything.” Maureen shakes her head.
I nod once, I can’t speak.
“We didn’t raise you,” she peers over at me, “but you’re ours now. You, Avonna, Liam, the girls. We love you all.”
My eyes sting. I mop the towel on my face. “Thanks, Ma.”
“You don’t have to pretend here.” She squeezes my arm.
I nod again. Unable to react.
“I know it’s not the same,” she continues. “I know a part of you still wants their approval. Remember, you’ve built something stronger than they ever dreamed.”
I think of the rings we wear. The quiet promise we made to raise our daughters in a home filled with truth. “We have.”
“You’re doin’ it.” She pats my hand. “Now. Help me with the puddin’.”
I manage a smile. “Aye. Anything for your trifle.”
She rolls her eyes, but the softness in her face makes me melt.
Whatever they called my relationship. Sin, shame, wrong, I call it family.
No matter what we’ve lost, we have each other.
This loud, complicated, stunning mess.