Page 32 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
“You.” I flick my eyes up to his. “You’re in it. Fully in it. With the band. With Liam. It’s like I’m watching you blossom into a rockstar.”
His silence isn’t defensive. It’s careful. Classic Padraig McGloughlin contemplation.
“Liam needs me right now, he was worried you and I were going to run off and get married and I’d quit.”
I shift, pressing my cheek to his collarbone. “I’m not jealous or anything. It’s an observation.”
His hand slides up my back. “I’m enjoying myself.”
“I’m trying to understand what’s changed for you.” I wind my finger around his long hair. “Other than the band logo, you haven’t sketched or painted since we moved in here.”
Another beat. He sighs. “When you were in Seattle, Liam and I spent nearly every night working on arrangements. New riffs. We’d fall asleep watching old Thin Lizzy live shows or arguing over drum fills. It was like when we were kids. Before everything went to hell.”
I close my eyes thinking about how Rory turned into a monster and nearly killed Liam.
“Liam and I always dreamed we’d do this with Connor,” he adds. “Be the next U2. The Irish answer to Zeppelin. It was dumb kid shit, but Connor had us convinced…”
“Babe. I was there. Up until recently, it seemed like you were living your brothers’ dreams, though.” I roll onto my back.
“Aye.” Padraig flings his arm over his eyes. “I love to play, but I’ve never cared about being famous. Such a dumb thing to aspire to, right?”
“Is it?” I gently move his arm so I can see his eyes.
“Yes.” He swallows. “It is. On the other hand, music changes lives. Either way, for Liam it’s the only thing keeping him upright. I genuinely worry if we don’t make it, he’ll fall apart. Don’t even get me started on Connor’s disappointment.”
Whoa.
I shift, prop myself up on one elbow and stare down at him. His chiseled features are soft in the low light. Lips parted. Brows furrowed.
“I know you love them,” I whisper.
“I do, and you know how it is with Liam.” He looks at me. His eyes darker than usual, serious. Emotional. “He’s always on the brink of spiraling. Not like danger-danger, not yet. He’s finally opened up a bit but I know there’s a lot he’s not saying. Or he doesn’t know how to.”
“I think it’s hard for him to believe the life he wants is available to him in a small town like Pullman. Seattle? Maybe…”
“I agree. I can’t imagine how it would feel to believe no one will ever want all of him.” He winces. “He’s truly convinced he’ll never have what we have.”
God. My heart aches. Not in a sharp, sad way. More like a steady dull pain in my ribcage.
“He’s not wrong to worry.” I take his hand and bring it to my lips.
Padraig looks horrified. “You don’t believe that.”
“I don’t mean it’s impossible. Let’s get real, though. Most people aren’t looking for what he wants.” I massage his fingers, one by one. “I’d never be able to share you with anyone else.”
“Well, I’d make room,” he counters. “If it were you.”
His truth settles over me like a blanket. “I know. I hope you won’t be mad, but, it’s wrong for Liam or Connor to put responsibility for their well-being on you. You deserve to be happy. Live the life you want. You shouldn’t have to compromise.”
He pulls me closer again, tucking me against him. His heart beats steady under my cheek.
“Life is always a compromise. I don’t want you to worry. I’m never leaving you,” he assures me unnecessarily. “Even if the band blows up. Even if we tour. Even if Liam needs me every fucking second.”
“I know that too.”
Padraig and I have found something most people spend their lives chasing. Our love is branded into my skin. It burrows so deep nothing else will ever feel this real.
Yet, sometimes, I lie awake terrified we found it too early. He doesn’t realize we’re shifting, slowly, gently, like two bodies drifting apart in warm water, reaching for each other but no longer securely anchored.
