It was scary to think that, in trying to protect his family, he was slowly losing them. Little by little, Eamon found it harder to stay around—the secrets kept asphyxiating him. He would find excuses, to keep him busy until it was too late and they’d be sleeping, with any luck that is. Finn always managed to catch him sneaking in, always managed to give him a speech about this or that. But Ava? She waited for him. She waited for him and he never came home in time as promised.
That night, however, tired and slightly beaten, he noticed the light in her room still on and he knocked on her door softly. “Can I come in?” He asked in a whisper as the door gave way, practically crawling into her bed and resting his head on her lap. He remembered how he would just stand by her crib when she first came home, staring at her. She barely cried back then, always so quiet, such an easy baby, almost as if she knew what had happened and how they were all new at it, that they were trying their best and she went easy on them. He’d stare at her and watch her grow and, now, a full grown woman, he’d stare at her and search for her smile. His arms wrapped around her waist, hugging her, holding onto her tightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it sooner. I’m a jerk.” Though he chuckled softly, he meant every word.