Page 151 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
Stevie
The Next Morning
I’mstiffunderthecovers.
I haven’t slept.
Kellan’s curled against me, his little hand tangled in my shirt, while my brain runs jagged circles.
Every time my eyes close, the night replays. Isla’s trauma at getting an incomplete. The way Padraig looked at me. The tension at dinner as we tried to act normal in front of all the kids.
The argument. Him walking out. Rightfully so.
God, the sound of the zipper on his bag.
I cry until my chest aches, then force myself into furious scrolling, phone lighting the dark room as I dig through articles and forums about paternity revelations, blended families, teens blindsided by truth.
None of it helps.
How do you protect a sixteen-year-old from having her entire foundation ripped out from under her? Every answer contradicts the last. Some parents recommend honesty at once. Others warn of devastation.
My thumb trembles as I swipe, because I already know in my heart. Isla is Padraig’s. I don’t need a DNA test to prove it.
Their similarities blaze like neon.
Isla’s eyesarePadraig’s. Not because they’re the same shade of brown. Both of them carry more than they give away.
I never thought about her wavy strands of hair she fights with a straightener, same texture as Padraig’s, even if the color’s different.
The sketches crowding the margins of every notebook page, hours vanishing into creating art the way Padraig used to before the band consumed him.
They have the same drive, when they’re focused. Unyielding and relentless once they take their sweet time deciding on a path. Until then, a bit flighty. Petulant.
God, her silences can sink a room. The way she shoulders responsibility no one asked her to—all Padraig. The instinct to protect and give herself away for the ones she loves.
All his pieces stitched into her.
How did I not see it before?
Cooper was thrilled when I told him I was pregnant. He pulled me close, called it fate. I let myself lean into his conviction, desperate to make the story true. She came out blonde and calm, the perfect blend of me and him, so it never occurred to me she wasn’t his.
He diedbelievingshe was his. Gave up his life for her.
How do I reconcile the fact we created an entire family around a lie?
I robbed Padraig of his daughter.
I feel sick.
Clutching Kellan tighter, I press my lips to his head. Tears soak his baby hair. He stirs but doesn’t wake.
Four kids plus Rafferty, who comes here so often I’m his second mother. We’ve built this amazing patchwork of children and family, entwined the Hayes with the McGloughlins into one sprawling mess of roots.
Somehow, I’ve shattered the ground beneath us.
At the end of the day, none of this isn’t about me. Or Padraig.
Our hearts can break a thousand times over. We’ll survive it. Maybe not together, but we’ll persevere through the pain.
