Page 64 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
Same old. Same old.
A day after I got back from New York, we went straight into the studio. Convinced ourselves we weren’t fraying at the seams. The entire album was tracked in two weeks because Liam, Linus, and I pushed through late nights and rewrites.
It’s good.
Better than good, with the potential for a couple more crowd pleasers. It doesn’t feel like it used to, though. Felicity fought Liam on everything from lyrics and melodies to entire arrangements. She rewrote vocal parts behind his back, then blew up when he called her out. Linus had to intervene more than once.
I stayed quiet. Didn’t get too involved.
It’s what I do now. Smooth it over. Keep the peace. Anything to keep things from blowing apart.
I’m not proud of it.
After a lot of self-reflection, I know when it started. The day Connor sent us off to college and told us not to look back. A big brother who meant well. Sacrificed his own happiness for ours without bothering to ask us what we wanted. To this day, I know I owe him everything.
At the same time, Liam and I are now completely disconnected from the family.
Sure, we do our best to call and text to keep our connection alive, but college life has a funny relationship with time. Suddenly, Cillian’s learning the construction business. Seamus is a teenager and Brennan’s a computer genius. Da’s apparently working part-time and seems to be steadier. Ma wants us to come for Sunday dinner in a few days. I can’t think of the last time I had a home-cooked meal. Or spoke with my father.
Without Stevie, I’m fucking adrift.
I hit the snare again. Louder this time. Felicity’s head whips around. Liam cuts her a look sharp enough to silence her before she can open her mouth.
“Soundcheck.” He points at her. “Not a fucking solo show.”
She glares, turns to the mic and starts singing through half a verse like she’s doing us a favor. The tension in the room doesn’t break. It presses against the Showbox’s walls. I look over at Liam and silently communicate to him how I feel.
I’ve had it. None of this is worth it. We need to let her go.
Doesn’t mean the thought of starting over again exhausts me in a way I can’t explain.
Finally, the thought of keeping her wrecks me even more.
I wonder if Connor’s new band has these types of problems.
Doubt it.
With Da on the mend, Connor and his girlfriend’s brother joined a band called Less Than Zero. They’ve only been jamming together a couple months and they’re already electric. With a singer who commands a room, a guitar player who’s rock starroyalty, a drummer who’s the coolest most even-keeled dude I’ve ever met and my talented brother, their sound is pure and raw and alive. I’d describe it as somewhere between grunge and gospel.
LTZ has an unexplainable magic. Something Fireball’s been chasing for years but only managed to catch with our song,Tir na nÓg. They’re opening for us, but I have a feeling we’ll be the opener for them next time.
On top of everything, Stevie’s flying in tonight. I haven’t seen her since I came home after New Years. We text. We call. We FaceTime. It’s not the same.
Not enough.
She might deny it to me and to herself, but she’s moved on from me and it’s killing me from the inside out. She’s thriving in New York. With a career she loves, friends, roommates. A whole new life in the Big Apple while I’m clinging to some dream of, what? Superstardom?
As if. My fucking band is hanging on by a thread and I’m sitting here, behind the kit Connor bought for me, gripping the sticks like they might keep me from unraveling.
Knowing the only thing keeping me upright is the thought of Stevie walking through those doors. I need her. Even if I’m not sure I deserve her anymore.
She doesn’t know what I’ve been carrying. Felicity has tried to cross lines I’ve never blurred. The third time, I padlocked my own door. For protection.
I’ve kept this buried for almost a year. Not because I’d ever touch Felicity, I couldn’t risk pushing Stevie further away while distance already stretched between us. Now the secret festers, chewing through whatever peace I pretend to have left.
Stevie shows up as we’re finishing soundcheck, overnight bag hanging off her shoulder, blonde hair shining under the stage lights. I don’t hold back.
“Stevie.” I leap from the stage, scooping her up in my arms
