A strangled cry came from next to him, and Kieran turned to see Fiona’s hand on her heart, tears already pouring down her cheeks. Nora sat down on the couch next to her with a thud, like she’d collapsed at the news.
“My God, Rory…I’m so sorry,” Kieran finally replied as they both stood up.
Kane stepped over and threw his arms around Rory. Quinn did the same. Jimmy crossed the room and put both arms around the trio. Kieran was the last brother to join them, but when he did, he felt Rory’s shoulders begin to shake and the unmistakable sound of crying arose from the center of the group.
The rest of the family joined them, some hugging Rory and offering their apologies. Many of the women went down the hallway to find Clare and Murphy. Dee hadn’t even stayed to hug Rory. She’d run straight for her grandson and Clare, and was holding them both. Kieran knew that was what Rory would have wanted.
The rest of the evening went by in a blur. Everyone sat around discussing Murphy’s treatment plan, and coordinating who was going to help and how. The entire family was going to pitch in—not just with Rory’s family, but also with Fiona’s. Kieran was overwhelmed with not only how supportive his family was, but how dependable they were in a crisis.
He realized that there was never a single moment in his life where he’d felt alone. Never a single moment he’d felt like he didn’t have someone to turn to when the going got tough. Even when he’d been in prison for two years, his mother had come to every visitation possible.
That was who the Kavanaghs were. They showed up. They loved. Repeat.
“Babe, I think I need to go to bed,” Fiona said, pushing herself up slowly from the couch. “I’m so tired. Tonight’s been…a lot.”
“Wait, let me.” Kieran rushed to her side and lifted her in his arms. “You can’t do the stairs.”
“I mean, I could if you’d let me,” Fiona chuckled, but leaned her head against his shoulder anyway. A few minutes later, he was helping her get settled into bed and crawling in next to her. “Is your mother putting Gavin to bed?”
Kieran nodded. “Yep. He’s determined to wait up for Santa Claus, so Dee said she’d wait with him.”
The rest of his family was already heading back to their homes. This year’s Christmas Eve had officially been the most memorable one yet. Quinn was moving home. Kane was getting married. Jimmy was having a baby. And Rory? God, Kieran couldn’t even imagine the pain his older brother must be in.
“He won’t last a few minutes.” Fiona curled into his side, rubbing a hand over her belly. “That kid is lights out the moment his head hits the pillow.”
Kieran’s mind drifted to his son, wondering what he’d do if Gavin was ever in serious, life-threatening danger like Murphy. The very idea was heart wrenching.
“I can’t imagine what Clare’s going through,” Fiona whispered. “She’s so fierce…so protective. They can handle anything…but this? How does anyone handle this?”
He shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. It makes sense now why she’s been so watchful over Murphy lately. Going through all of this alone, not letting the family in on what was happening. I can’t imagine how stressful that must have been.”
“I’m glad Rory finally told us.”
“Me, too,” he agreed. “They said they were going to wait until after the holidays to tell us, not wanting to spoil anyone’s Christmas.”
“Christmas is about family, though. I wish I’d been able to be there for them sooner. I wish I wasn’t stuck to this bed the next few months.”
Kieran draped his arm over his wife, gently rubbing her belly. “The rest of the family can do the heavy lifting. All they need from us is love, and to take care of this baby.”
“It really puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I’ve spent so much time recently worrying and pouting and basically throwing tantrums over the very possibility of something happening to our child.” She hugged her stomach with both arms. “That fear paralyzed me. Stopped me from even living these last few months. Meanwhile, Clare and Rory are facing immediate danger. Their son is sick now. Yet, they haven’t backed down. They haven’t stopped living their lives.”
“You’re an amazing mother, Fi,” Kieran assured her. “There’s nothing you need to feel guilty about.”
She nodded slowly, her expression unsure. “I’ve checked out the last month, though. I’ve let my fear and self-pity stop me from being the mother Gavin needs, or the sister Shea needs…or the wife you need. I’m sorry, Kieran.”
He leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. “I love you, Fi. I love you just the way you are. We’re going to get through this together. We’re going to help Rory and Clare do the same.”
“We’re Kavanaghs,” she teased, a smile spreading across her face. She rubbed her belly again, looking down at her baby bump. “Kavanaghs can do it all.”
“Fuck, yes,” he agreed. “This baby is going to be the biggest, strongest, healthiest kid you’ve ever seen.”
Fiona rolled onto her side, kissing him softly on the lips. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
“There was never a chance of that happening,” he assured her. “You’re my everything, Fi.”
Chapter 12
Christmas Day
Rory Kavanagh
“Clare,” Rory whispered softly to his wife, touching her elbow to wake her. She was curled up next to their son in bed, her blond curls spread out on the pillow behind her, still a bit damp from her recent shower. He’d taken a moment to look at them both before deciding to wake her and bring her back to their bed. She’d fallen asleep next to Murphy after reading a Christmas story to him, and there was such a sweet innocence in that moment, his heart hurt.
Mother and son, healthy and ill.
When he’d first fallen in love with Clare over a decade ago, there had been no doubt in Rory’s mind that this was the woman he’d be with for the rest of his life. He’d pursued her hard, refusing to let her slip through his fingers when fear—and a violent ex-boyfriend—tried to take her from him. Every part of him was head over heels for her, and he was certain that his heart was filled to capacity every moment he looked at her.
It wasn’t until these last few months that he’d realized how naive he’d been. He’d fallen in love with a young woman—the way she laughed with a joy he’d never seen before, or the way she encouraged him to do better, try harder, or how she gasped when he pushed inside her. Everything about that woman was a distant memory now, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.
The woman he loved now had small wrinkles around her eyes that she put serum on at night trying to keep them at bay, even though he loved the happiness those lines represented. The woman he loved now chose dinners at home, their little family gathered in the kitchen cooking together, instead of the bars and restaurants they’d once frequented. The woman he loved still moaned his name and everything about her still drove him wild, but now they whispered and moved quickly, trying to get a moment of passion before a child ran into their bedroom complaining of a bad dream.
“Clare,” he whispered again, nudging her with a bit more force this time. “Come to bed, mhuirnín.”
“Mmm.” She groaned, her eyes blinking open slowly. “What time is it?”
“Past midnight. It’s officially Christmas. Come on, let’s go to bed.”
She nodded and carefully slid out from under the covers, taking mind to not wake Murphy. They tucked him back into bed, his soft sighs and snores making Rory’s heart squeeze. Everything from the last few weeks, the start of chemotherapy treatments, the side effects and sickness…it was the hardest thing he’d ever been through. He’d spent his life as a man of action. If there was a problem, he fixed it.
He couldn’t fix Murphy’s cancer. He couldn’t help his son. All he could do was pray and wait, and hope the doctors knew what they were doing. It was agonizing.
“Is the tree ready?” Cla
re asked, tiptoeing out of the bedroom behind him. “All the gifts under there?”
Rory nodded. “Want to see?”
They relocated to the living room, the entire house dark except for the bright, twinkling lights wrapped around the large evergreen in the corner. Behind the tree was a wide window that covered most of the wall and faced out onto a row of evergreen trees that were sprinkled with white snow. Small snowflakes were floating past the window, and Rory smiled at the realization that his children would have their first official White Christmas.
Both kids were fast asleep in their beds, exhausted after the energetic evening at his brother’s house. Murphy had taken a bit longer to fall asleep as he was still dealing with the nausea, but once his medication eased his stomach, he’d drifted off. As much as he loved them, these moments alone with Clare after they were asleep were some of the most special times of their marriage.
Clare dropped onto the couch with a loud sigh. “Can you believe tonight?”
“It was eventful,” he answered, taking the seat next to hers and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He propped his feet up on the ottoman in front of the sofa and yawned. “Most evenings with my family are.”
She shook her head. “This one was different.”
He knew she was right. Kissing her temple, he nodded in agreement. “Are you angry with me for telling them?”
“No. I mean, I was for a second when your mother burst into the bathroom and insisted on hugging me, even though I was covered in vomit.” Clare laughed lightly, the sound fading into the darkness of the night around them. “They needed to know. We needed help.”
“That’s always been hard for me,” Rory admitted.
“Me, too. It’s hard knowing you can’t help your kid.” She sniffed, running a hand over her cheek. “How helpless we are.”
Rory reached over and lifted her legs, draping them across his lap. He leaned into her and kissed her, his hands cradling her face. There was no mistaking the ache in her voice, the pain in her trembling, and he just wanted to take it all away. She was right—they were completely helpless as parents. But as a husband? That, he could do.
“Mmm.” She moaned against his lips, pulling at the fabric on his shirt to bring him closer to her.
He pressed her backwards into the couch, covering her body with his and sliding his hand between them. His fingers pushed at the fabric of her pants, sliding them down her legs and tossing them onto the floor before unzipping his own pants. She anchored her knees to either side of his hips and he pressed himself against her entrance.
Finding her already slick with desire, he slid inside and pressed his thumb against the sensitive bundle of nerves above. Clare cried out and arched her back off the couch, pushing against him as he twirled circles around her.
“Rory…” His name sounded like sex on her lips, like something he wanted to record and listen to over and over until he came undone at the tremble of her lips.
He slid his free hand beneath her lower back and lifted her hips for a better angle. Their mouths clashed, tongues twirling and thrusting as they devoured every inch of one another. The glow of the Christmas tree lights left shadows on her face and neck that he kissed and nipped until she writhed beneath him, closer and closer to the edge.
“Come for me, Clare,” he commanded, thrusting harder, deeper, faster. He wanted to feel her pulse around him, waves of climax slamming through her and clenching around him. He wanted to see the relief on her face when the pleasure danced through her, easing the tension that had had a hold of her for months. “Come…now.”
Her breath came faster, more erratic as she arched into him. The feeling of her warmth clenching around him almost made his vision go black, his own climax hitting him hard as they came together and fell into the couch in a tangled mess of limbs.
“Rory?” She was panting beneath him, out of breath, so he slid down to her side and pulled her against his chest. Her forehead rested against him and he felt the tiny flicker of her eyelashes fluttering against the skin on his chest as she closed her eyes. “Are we going to be okay?”
Her last words shook as her voice faded in and out.
He considered his words a moment, not wanting to offer her an empty appeasement. She had valid reasons to be concerned about what was coming in the future for them, for their family, for the Kavanaghs in general. As optimistic as so much of his family member’s future’s looked—Casey’s new love with Flynn, Jimmy’s new family with Sophie, Quinn’s move back home with Kiera, Kane’s upcoming marriage to Nora, and Kieran’s new baby on the way—they all still had their moments of pain and suffering. That was life, though. Especially in a family as large as his, the good and the bad came in waves and there was always some of both.
But that was what also made them the best family he’d ever known. No one went through hardships alone. No one celebrated alone. That’s the world he wanted to raise Murphy and Brontë in.
He felt a lightness fill him, tension easing from his body as he kissed Clare’s temple and then her lips. “I don’t know what the future holds for us, Clare, but I do know that whatever it is…we’re going to be okay. Murph’s going to be okay. We’re going to have more children, more adventures, more love than we ever thought possible.”
“I love you, Rory Kavanagh.” She sighed, a smile lifting her cheeks. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Kavanagh. I love you, mhuirnín.”
Epilogue
Twelve Years Later
Dee Kavanagh
“Ma! Over here.” Rory waved from a row of chairs near the front of the high school auditorium, ushering Dee over to join them. Clare was next to him, smiling brightly and looking stunning as ever. Middle age had barely changed a thing for the blond bombshell, only peppering her with a few stray silver streaks and fine lines around her eyes. Rory looked more and more like his father with every passing day.
Dee’s heart clenched at the reminder.
“Oh, I see them,” Quinn said, steering them in that direction. Her arm was securely looped around his elbow as she leaned on him for support.
Admittedly, she wasn’t the spry young woman she’d once been. Her bright red hair had faded to a soft gray with more strands of white than she’d like, and her skin was a map of blue veins that doctors pricked and prodded all too often. There was a hunch in her back when she walked, making her even shorter than she’d always been, and it all felt a bit strange. She didn’t feel old. She didn’t feel like a grandmother to sixteen grandkids ranging in age from a college graduate to a newborn baby.
It was surreal in many ways, but in others, it felt like it was always meant to be this way. There was nothing more she loved than going over to Clare’s home on Sunday nights for the family dinner they’d had every week for over forty years now. Dee wasn’t in the best health to cook for everyone anymore, but she worked with Clare and Fiona and whoever else pitched in to help that week. She attended every football game, karate tournament, or ballet recital that her grandkids were in. Every holiday was spent with a different son, rotating whose family she’d spend it with, or gathering everyone together in one big group.
Being around her family—her five sons, her niece, her sons and daughters-in-laws, and her grandkids—was the greatest blessing of her life. They were her legacy. They were the legend she’d leave behind when she joined her husband one day.
Quinn turned into the row where Rory and Clare sat next to their three youngest children—Brontë, Ciara, and Eve. The rest of her sons and their families were in the other rows, and it felt a bit like the Kavanaghs had taken one entire side of the expansive auditorium.
Dee got to her chair and paused for a moment, seeing that the seat next to hers had a reserved sign on it. On the seat was a picture frame with Seamus’s smiling face beaming back at her inside. She turned to her oldest son, tears already pricking her eyes.
“We wanted Pops to be here to see Murphy graduate,” Rory admitted sheepishly, rubbing a hand
across the back of his neck. “It just wouldn’t feel right without him.”
Dee nodded slowly, the lump in her throat holding her words hostage. She wasn’t used to being a widow yet, and she wasn’t sure she ever would be. But when she looked at their sons, she saw flashes of the man she’d been in love with for most of her life. “Thank you,” she finally managed to say.
Rory kissed her cheek, hugged her, then helped her sit down. She lifted the frame from the chair next to her and gazed at Seamus’ salt and pepper hair, the thick brows over deep gray eyes. He still made her stomach flutter after all these years, and her heart clenched with the renewed ache of her grief.
A tear slid down her cheek, but she didn’t wipe it away.
As the lights dimmed and the graduation began, she replaced the frame on the chair, facing the stage. She wanted Murphy to see his grandfather there when he crossed the stage and gave his valedictorian speech. Seamus had been so damn proud of that kid. While Shea was actually their oldest, Murphy was their first grandchild in the biological sense, and he’d always held a special place in their hearts because of that.
The principal of the local high school made a short speech, a local official gave some advice to the graduating class, and a few awards were handed out. Then Murphy walked on stage to give his speech as this year’s valedictorian, and the room burst into applause.
People chanted his name, pumped their fists, and for a moment, Dee thought it was just her raucous family showing their support. They were definitely cheering, too, but the loudest noise was actually coming from the student body itself.
Murphy beamed as he walked to the podium in the center of the stage in his navy blue graduation cap and gown. The robe made his thin frame look larger, reminding her of how Rory had looked walking across the stage so many years ago. In truth, Murphy looked a lot different from his father. He was slender and spent more time in the library than the octagon.
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