Chapter 36 #2
We ended up in the sitting room because Brigid refused to permit a farewell while everyone stood around the kitchen "like tradesmen waiting on a quote.
" The fire remained unlit in the morning warmth, but enough had changed in the room that I noticed immediately.
The dust covers were gone from the main furniture.
Skye's notebook lay on the side table beside a tape measure.
One of my jackets had been thrown across the back of a chair the night before.
The house had begun collecting our presence faster than either of us realized.
Eamon sat near the window. Niamh took Mam's old place on the sofa this time, and Skye sat beside her without hesitation.
I chose Da's chair. Nobody reacted. That was how I knew I was ready.
Brigid gave me a parcel from Kathleen at the pub, apparently containing something baked and a note I was forbidden to read aloud.
Eamon promised to keep an eye on the exterior contractor who would be assessing the north wall next week.
Niamh offered to help Skye identify local craftspeople because half the people capable of restoring old plaster apparently distrusted email on principle.
Brigid announced that she would oversee all of them, which caused Skye to inform her she had not been appointed project manager.
"Who appointed you?" Brigid asked.
"The client." All three women looked toward me. I had learned enough to stay quiet. Eamon smiled.
"Smart."
"I've evolved."
"You've become frightened."
"Also true." The laughter lasted longer than it should have. When it faded, the room became quieter without becoming uncomfortable. Niamh looked toward me.
"So when are you coming back?" The old version of me would have said I didn't know. Would have left every future plan vague enough that nobody could accuse me of breaking it. I looked at Skye. She didn't answer for me. Didn't need to.
"Couple months." Eamon's eyebrows rose.
"That specific?"
"Aye."
"Why?" I nodded toward Skye.
"Surveys." She smiled.
"Restoration planning." Brigid leaned back with visible satisfaction.
"So you'll be back before winter."
"Aye."
"And Christmas?"
The question landed differently. I hadn't spent Christmas in Ireland since before my family died.
For years, the holiday had become club noise, bad decorations, too much food, and brothers pretending they didn't care about traditions while creating new ones every year.
I loved those Christmases. They belonged to the life I'd built.
But now I imagined this house with lights in the windows again.
Eamon and Niamh bringing Orla. Brigid complaining about dinner.
Maybe some of the brothers crossing the Atlantic if Toxic could be convinced to tolerate international chaos.
Skye moving between rooms she had helped restore. The idea didn't feel like betrayal.
"I don't know about Christmas yet." Brigid's mouth tightened. I continued before she could accuse me of regression.
"But I'll think about it." She studied me. Then nodded.
"Fair." That mattered too. Eventually the clock forced the visit toward an ending none of us wanted to call emotional. Brigid hugged Skye first.
"You come back even if he acts stupid."
"I expect him to."
"Good." I stared at both of them. Brigid turned to me. For once, she didn't make a joke before putting both arms around me. I held her. Her cheek rested against my shoulder.
"You took your bloody time." The words were quiet.
"I know."
"Don't do it again."
"I won't." She pulled back and studied my face, probably measuring whether I meant it. Then she nodded. Eamon hugged me next. No hesitation this time.
"We'll see you soon."
"Aye."
"Say it properly." I almost laughed.
"I'll be back." He slapped my shoulder.
"Better." Niamh waited until last. When she hugged me, there was no trace of the life we'd once imagined together and no need for there to be.
"Take care of yourself, Rory." I didn't flinch at the name.
"Aye." She pulled away.
"And let people take care of you sometimes." I looked toward Skye.
"Apparently that's becoming unavoidable."
"Good." Orla attempted the beard again when I kissed the top of her hat. I barely escaped. Then everyone left. The silence afterward lasted only a moment before Skye came to stand beside me in the hallway.
"You okay?"
"Aye."
"Truth?" I looked at the closed front door.
"Aye."
And I was okay, even while sadness, gratitude, and the unsettling desire to be in two places at once moved through me.
We carried the bags to the SUV. Before locking the house, I went through each room once, not as a ritual or a goodbye but because I wanted to see it before leaving.
I moved through the sitting room with Da's ruined chair and Mam's sofa, the kitchen with the table Skye refused to let me replace, Maeve's future library, Finn's future guest room, and the upstairs bedroom where Skye had said my first name against my skin and where I'd woken twice without needing to leave, before finally stopping in Da's study.
The hidden archive was closed. Finn's note sat inside my jacket. I rested one hand on the desk.
"We got them, Da." The words felt strange spoken aloud. I didn't expect an answer; the difference was that for fifteen years, every conversation I'd had with my family existed only in regret, while this one didn't.
"Harrow's still out there," I continued quietly. "Vale too. But we got people out. Croft's in custody. Brennan reopened the case." My throat tightened.
"And I'm coming back."
That was enough. I left the study and closed the door behind me.
Skye waited near the front entrance. She didn't ask what I'd said.
I loved her for that. I picked up the last bag, stepped outside, and locked the farmhouse, the key turning without trembling or hesitation.
I slid it into my pocket. Skye held up hers.
"Still have mine."
"Aye."
"Just checking."
"Menace."
She smiled. We drove toward Shannon beneath clearing skies.
The farmhouse disappeared behind the hedgerow, then the lane curved and even the roof vanished from view.
I watched the road ahead. Didn't look back.
Leaving still hurt, but this time I knew the difference between leaving and running.
I was going somewhere. Back to the brothers who had taught me family could be chosen after loss.
Back to a clubhouse where Irish belonged without apology.
Back to work that wasn't finished and an Order that still needed dismantling.
Skye was beside me, Scotland waiting for her beyond whatever came next, Ireland behind us without being lost, and the farmhouse standing exactly where it had always stood.
For the first time since I was twenty-three, I left County Clare without wondering whether coming back would hurt too much.
I already knew I would return. That made all the difference.