Page 83 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
We only get recognized from time to time by our superfans because we’re not on the cover of any big magazines. There aren’t thousands of social media pages devoted to us. Even our Grammy is in an obscure category.
The best I can say is Liam and I get by. We make a good-enough living. In musician circles, we’re respected and Liam’s content to find a new singer and keep coasting. He loves everything about the lifestyle. The touring, the music, and the blur of faces every night.
I can’t blame him. He’s able to be exactly who he is, unapologetically. He has me, of course, for emotional and professional support.
As far as relationships go, he’s given up and prefers to fuck groupies then send them on their way. I’ve walked in on him countless times with men, women, and every combination. He’s embraced his true self and is unapologetic for what he wants.
I’m stuck in limbo. Unable to stop thinking about what I gave up and what I’m missing.
What I once had with Stevie.
I miss the way she looked at me, like I was hers and she was mine and nothing else mattered. I miss the sound of her laugh in my chest when she fell asleep in my arms.
Fucking random women on the road doesn’t cut it anymore. It never has, truthfully, though I’ve indulged often to quiet theache. Ultimately, when it’s over, I’m reminded of how empty I am. I’m tired of pretending sex is enough for me.
Realizing I haven’t answered my aunt, I rest the roller against the tray and drag a hand through my hair. “I think Liam’s fine staying exactly where we are, as long as he can be on stage and play guitar, he’s good. But me?” I shake my head. “Either we take the band to the next level or call it. I’m getting too old for this shit.”
Saoirse studies me for a long beat. “You’re lonely.”
“Aye.” I swallow hard, and admit, “I am.”
Saoirse’s brows knit together. “What would you do if you left the band?”
“I wish I knew. Fireball’s not like LTZ. Connor makes stupid fuck-you money. Look at this house. It gives him freedom. We’re slogging and I barely have enough to buy a decent car.” I dip the roller back in the paint.
Her gaze fixes on mine. “Would walking away make you happy? How would Liam take it?”
The question hangs in the room like a challenge.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m tired of replacing singers, tired of feeling like we’re waiting for someone else to save us. Liam might be annoyed at losing another singer but he’ll bounce back when we hire someone else. I think he’d go on forever this way while all I can focus on is what I gave up to pursue this with him. For what?”
Saoirse sets her roller down, crosses the room and rests a paint-stained hand on my arm. “Padraig, from what I’ve gleaned, you’ve always held everyone else together at the expense of yourself. I’m asking you again. What doyouwant?”
I can’t help but remember Stevie asking me the same question so many years ago.
“I want a life. I want what I had.” The ache in my chest is sharp. “Something solid. Didja know Da gifted us each atownhouse? At least I have my own place now but it’s essentially empty. Sparse. It doesn’t feel like home.”
Her voice quiets. “You want love. A family.”
I swallow hard and nod.
“Ach.” Saoirse returns to her task and eases back on her heels to work on the baseboards. “Do you keep in touch with Stevie?”
I stop mid-stroke, my grip squeezing on the handle. “No. Ma does with her mom though. Apparently, she moved back to Seattle a few weeks ago.” The words scrape out of my mouth harshly.
Saoirse watches me like she’s afraid to push.
“So, I pick up bits and pieces. She and Cooper have two little girls now,” I continue. “She’s pregnant again. Due soon.”
Fuck, the ache is a physical thing, hollowing me out from the inside. Every time I allow myself to think about her, I wish it was me with her every day. Iwishthose kids were mine.
I plunk down the roller hard in the tray, splattering paint across my hands.
Saoirse doesn’t look away. “Ach, love. It can’t be easy for you.”
“I’m happy for her.” I drag a hand through my newly shorn hair, not caring if I get paint all over it. “Really. But—” My voice falters. “She wasmyperson, Saoirse. Even after all these years, I don’t understand how she could have moved on so easily.”
Saoirse’s expression softens. “I’ll be honest, Padraig. Love is a mystery to me and I can’t say I’ve ever known what you felt for her. I scarcely understood how your ma stayed with Rory after the accident—the drinking, the pills—watching him fall apart. I thought she was mad for putting herself and all of youse through it.”
