And Just Like That

Twenty- Two

"You were remarkable in there," he said simply. "I've seen grown men crumble under half the pressure you faced today. You held your ground."

"Thank you," she whispered, eyes glistening.

"Johnny will be so proud of you," Edel added gently, tucking a strand of hair behind Éabha's ear.

That broke her. The tears came hard, sudden, shaking through her shoulders. Edel just held her, rubbing slow circles into her back while Katie leaned her head against Éabha's.

⸻

Back in the house the quiet felt almost too peaceful after the courthouse. She changed into one of Johnny's jumpers, the big grey one that still smelled faintly of him, and curled up on the couch.

Her phone buzzed.
Johnny:
How's my baby?

She smiled through the tears. Her thumbs hovered over the screen for a second before she typed back:
Still not noticeable, Johnny.
Then, after a moment:
Court's done. Everything's okay now.

His reply came almost instantly.
God, I wish I was there. I'm proud of you, E. So proud.

Her breath caught.
Love you.

Love you more, he sent back. Both of you.

Éabha rested the phone on her belly and let herself breathe for the first time all day. The house was quiet, sunlight slipping through the curtains.

For the first time in years, the silence didn't scare her.
It felt like freedom.

_____

Edel and John had gone to bed hours ago, and even the creaks of the old floorboards had settled into silence. Éabha lay curled up on the sofa, the glow of her phone the only light in the room. She was wrapped in one of Johnny's hoodies, her hair messy, her cheeks still blotchy from the day's tears.

When his name lit up her screen, she didn't hesitate. She answered on the first ring.

"Hey, baby," Johnny's voice came through, soft and low, the way it always was when he called at night. There was a faint hum in the background — hotel air conditioning, probably, or his teammates talking somewhere down the hall.

"Hey," she whispered, smiling even though her throat still ached. "You're up late."

"I couldn't sleep," he admitted. "You've been on my mind all day. I knew the hearing was soon."

Her breath caught. "You knew?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "You forget I know you too well. I could tell by your messages this week."

There was a pause — a deep one, filled with everything they weren't saying.

"Was it awful?" he asked gently.

She hesitated, then nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "It was... hard. But John was brilliant. And Edel, and Katie. I didn't think I could do it, but... I did."

Johnny exhaled, and she could hear the pride in it. "You did more than that, Éabha. You faced him. You took your life back."

Her eyes burned again. "I just wanted it to be over. For good."

"It is," he said. "It's over now."

She was quiet for a moment, breathing through the weight of those words. The kind of silence that didn't need filling stretched between them — the sound of two hearts steadying on the other end of a fragile phone line.

Then Johnny's voice softened. "I've been thinking about something."

"What's that?"

"Our baby." His tone changed, gentle but sure. "Our baby will never know that fear."

Éabha frowned slightly. "What do you mean, Johnny?"

He paused, the sound of his breath deepening. "I mean... our baby will never have to worry if Dad's going to lash out. Because I won't. I'll never be that man. I'll never let anger touch this family. Not for a second."

Her throat closed, the tears rising before she could stop them. "Johnny..."

"I mean it," he said, voice firm now. "You've been through enough for a lifetime. And I don't care what it takes — training, rugby, France, Ireland — whatever's ahead, I'll make sure our baby grows up safe. Loved. You hear me?"

She nodded, wiping at her eyes. "You will, Johnny. You already are."

"I just—" his voice broke slightly, "—I wish I was there. To hold you. To tell you in person that it's done, that he can't touch your life anymore."

"You are here," she whispered. "Every time you call. Every time you say our baby."

There was a faint laugh from him, wet around the edges. "Our baby. God, I still can't believe we made a tiny person."

"Tiny's right," Éabha said, smiling now. "Barely a few centimetres and already causing chaos."

Johnny chuckled softly, that warm, familiar sound that melted her heart every time. "You're incredible, Éabha. You know that, right?"

"I'm trying to be," she murmured.

"No," he said. "You don't even have to try. You just are."

She stared at the ceiling, blinking back more tears. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

"Same here," he said, almost whispering. "But I'm not questioning it. You're my home, Éabha. You and that little bean."

She laughed through a sniffle. "Bean?"

"Yeah," he said proudly. "Our little bean. It's perfect."

For a while, they just sat like that — two kids who had somehow grown up too fast, whispering about a future that was starting to take shape between them.

Finally, he said, "Promise me something."

"What?"

"That you'll rest tomorrow. No more court, no more stress. Just you and the bean."

"I will," she said softly. "Promise."

"And I'll be home before you know it," he said. "We'll paint the baby's room together. Even if it's just a corner for now. And when you're ready... we'll build everything you never had."

She smiled, pressing her hand to her stomach. "You really think we can do that?"

"I know we can," he said. "Because we already are."

The line went quiet again, but it wasn't sad. It was full — of love, of hope, of everything that had carried them this far.

"Goodnight, Éabha," he whispered.

"Goodnight, Johnny."

"Tell the bean I said hi."

She laughed softly. "You just did."

And when the call ended, Éabha stayed there, holding the phone to her chest, listening to the quiet of the house — her new home, her new life, the peace she'd never thought she'd have.