Page 19 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
The slap comes from nowhere. Back of his hand across my cheek. Bone-to-bone. White-hot.
The sound echoes.
My head snaps sideways. Vision blurs. Knees buckle. I’m on the floor.
“Padraig!” Seamus screams from the bottom of the stairs.
Fuck.
Brennan pulls him back into the living room. Cillian stares at us with wide eyes.
Da isn’t finished. He shoves me backward and goes after my twin.
Liam doesn’t back down. Not an inch.
“You gonna hit me too, Da?” he taunts. “Try it.”
Da snarls, “You’re not my son.”
Then he swings without warning. It’s the concerted effort of a former boxer. Survivor of the Troubles in Northern Ireland. Not a father and husband who took pride in building a legacy for his family in America.
I hear it before I see it. His knuckles hit Liam like concrete. A sickening thud. Flesh hitting plaster. Bone cracking against something harder.
Followed by a sound I’ll never forget: Liam tumbling down the stairs. One brutal collision after another. His boots. His elbow. His head.
By the time I turn around, he’s already at the bottom. Twisted. Motionless. Blood blooms at his temple. His eyes flutter, unfocused.
Seamus screams. Sharp and animal-like. Brennan grips the table like he can absorb all of our shock with two hands. Cillian drops to his knees beside Liam, already chanting his name like it’ll heal him.
Although I’m reeling, I manage to get on my feet and bound down the stairs. I hit the floor hard, jarring my knees. My hands tremble in the air above Liam’s body, unsure where to land.
He’s breathing. Barely. Shallow and wet.
“Liam,” I croak. “Hey. Look at me.”
Nothing.
Behind us, Rory lumbers back into his room like nothing happened. Muttering curses. Rifling through his drawers for a bottle. Doesn’t look back. Doesn’t pause.
Doesn’t give two shits he might’ve killed his son.
“Cillian, help me.” I motion to my brother.
“Don’t move him!” Seamus blurts in a panic. “You’re not supposed to if he hit his head. It could mess up his spine.”
I stop cold, crouched beside my twin. “Liam.” I hover over him. “Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
“Come on.” I grip his hand but don’t lift it. “Say something.”
A grunt rattles from deep in his throat. His eyelids twitch. Then flutter. Then open, glassy and dazed.
“There.” Cillian exhales, like he’s been holding it in since Liam hit the floor. “He’s okay, right?”
“I don’t know.” My voice cracks. “Dar. Can you move your arms? Legs?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Then slowly, stubbornly, he wiggles his fingers. Flexes his wrists. Twists his booted foot straight out in front of him.
