Page 21 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
He moves across the room and plugs in his guitar. The amp crackles. He strums a chord. Rough. Broken. It mirrors hismood. I ease onto the stool behind the kit. Count us in with the click of my sticks.
Liam’s face is a mess. Black eye. Split lip. Purpling cheekbone. Crusted blood clings to the cut above his eyebrow. We make music because we need a release to survive what happened today. He’s immersed. Guitar slung low. Head down like he’s praying to the strings.
He plays like he’s possessed.
I manage to keep up. Every cymbal crash is like a jolt straight through my soul, but I don’t stop. Not for two solid hours. If he needs this, I’m gonna give it to him.
Finally, Liam lets the guitar fall against his thigh. I set the sticks down.
“Let’s head back up.” I gesture. “We need to feed the lads.”
Nobody speaks as we trudge upstairs. It’s quiet on the top floor, Da’s no doubt passed out cold by now.
Liam turns on the TV and curls around Seamus, who snuggles into his side. Brennan sits at the dining room table muttering to himself, lost in some coding loop. Cillian barely moves. He studies the ceiling like it might collapse on top of him.
All of us jump a little when we hear a key in the door and voices outside. It’s Ma and Connor, of course, home from a long day at work. Oblivious, for the moment, at what went down a few hours ago.
Liam pulls his hoodie up to hide his face. I shake my head and reach for him. He shouldn’t hide what happened. Otherwise, how are we going to get Da help?
“No!” Cillian begs. “She’s gonna see.”
“She needs to know.” I tug the fabric off his face.
Liam doesn’t stop me but warns, “Dar, she won’t be able to unsee it.”
“You shouldn’t protect him by hiding what he did to you.” I cup his shoulder.
Connor enters first, eyes scanning the surroundings instinctively like he’s on a job site. His jeans are crusted in dried mud. A high-vis vest is slung over one shoulder. Ma’s right behind him, mail clutched in her hand, keys dangling from her fingers.
She sees Liam before Connor notices. Her purse hits the floor.
“Holy God above.” She rushes forward. “What happened to you?”
Liam doesn’t answer. He sits. Back ramrod straight.
“Liam, answer her.” Connor’s voice is lethal. “Who did this? Did you lads have a go at each other?”
For all my bravado, I can only utter, “Da.”
Connor’s face contorts. Rage, disbelief, guilt. All of it.
Ma turns to me. Her eyes sweep over the welt on my cheek.
“Padraig.” Her voice cracks. “What—?”
“We’re okay,” I lie.
Ma’s already across the room. She reaches for Liam’s cheek, fingertips trembling.
He flinches. “It’s fine. I can handle it.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” Connor seethes, slamming his phone down hard enough to make Seamus stir. “Was it really Da?”
Nobody answers.
“Stupid fucker.” Connor grits his teeth and looks upstairs.
“Language,” Ma snaps, automatic. Then she sags down next to Liam. “Where is he?”
