Chapter 9 Padraig
nine
Padraig
Six Months Later
The first notes of Tir na nóg chorus begin and the crowd fucking ignites.
I don’t even need to look at Liam to know.
We’ve got them.
This isn’t some random frat basement or a Pullman dive. We’re playing The Bartlett in Spokane and it’s packed.
Electricity zips through my chest when Felicity belts the chorus.
Half battle cry. Half blessing. I hammer the drums so hard the sticks blur.
Liam’s beside me, possessed, guitar snarling like it’s alive.
Sweat runs down his neck, his hair is soaked, mouth open like the music’s pulling breath straight from his lungs.
We don’t look at each other. We don’t have to. By the time we crash out the last chord, the crowd’s screaming like we’re gods. Someone screams “Fireball forever” right before a bra sails onto the stage.
Felicity barely glances at it, instead smirks and boots it into the pit like a soccer ball. When the song ends, she bows deep. Graceful. Cocky. She owns every soul in the room, and knows it.
An hour later, we bolt offstage, lungs heaving, hearts pounding, laughing like we’ve pulled off a heist.
Drunk on a kind of adrenaline no drug could provide.
We’re three shows deep this week. Thursday a Pullman bar set. Friday frat party. Tonight our first headlining gig in a half-decent city. Our official band email’s blowing up with more and more offers.
Who knew I’d become addicted to the rush. There’s literally nothing like the high of a crowd full of people rocking out to your band.
We file into the green room, which is really a storage closet with a busted door and a cooler of half-flat Red Bulls. Doesn’t matter. I’d play a gas station parking lot if it meant chasing this feeling.
Exhausted, I drop onto an overturned gear crate. My tank is stuck to my back, lungs fighting for rhythm. Liam sprawls in a folding chair across from me, towel slung low over his neck, eyes shut, pulse visible in his throat.
Across the room, Felicity paces in slow circles, barefoot. Her heels dangle from one hand. She hums a piece of the chorus under her breath, glowing from the show. Until she glances over at Liam, who doesn’t open his eyes. Doesn’t move or acknowledge her whatsoever.
Her smile falters for a breath before she leaves abruptly. “I’ll be back.”
Lately, Felicity watches him all the time. Gives him yearning glances she tries to hide. Laughs at things he says a second too late. For some reason, he ignores her. He certainly doesn’t encourage her attention.
In fact, he barely meets her gaze.
Neither of them have said anything in front of me but it’s clear she’s caught feelings and he’s not cool with it. Whatever the hell passed between them, it’s annoying. From the way she hangs on his every word, I can tell she hopes he’ll throw her a bone.
She’ll be waiting for a hundred years. I know my brother. If he’s not interested, you don’t exist. Which makes the situation uncomfortable.
“Fuck, that was good.” Liam moans like he’s having the orgasm of his life once she’s gone.
My forearms are vibrating. “Yeah. I can’t get over how many people knew the words to some of our songs. They love her.”
“Nah.” He opens one eye. “They love us.”
What? He’s delusional. Liam likes to be the center of attention for the most part. But, if you believe the hype, Felicity’s the reason we’re charting on half the college stations west of the Rockies.
“They love Fireball,” I concede to keep the peace.
Technically, it’s true. The live recording of Tir na nóg made it onto some editor’s playlist and now it’s wildfire. Felicity’s voice cracked something open creatively. Liam and I write the music and we may be the heart, but she’s the vessel.
All of that being said, Liam’s gotta keep his shit together or Felicity’s gonna leave us and we’ll be back to square one. He doesn’t seem to notice she looks like a kicked puppy whenever he ignores her. We can’t expect her to stay if she doesn’t feel appreciated.
“Let’s get outta here.” Liam puts his guitar in its case.
The two of us pack and load the gear in a fog. Liam jumps in the driver’s seat and I retrieve Felicity. She rides in the back, cheek pressed to the seat, earbuds in. Liam drives like he’s chasing ghosts. His window is cracked barely enough to let the cold roll through.
Attempting to ignore the tension, I text Stevie. When she doesn’t reply, I drum rhythms on my knees and count the minutes until I can climb into bed with her.
As usual, by the time we unload our equipment into the house, it’s a disaster. Cables snake across the floor like vines. Instruments and amps line the hallway. Boxes of merch are stacked in the foyer.
Rather than help us hump everything to the basement, Felicity vanishes down the hall and into her room. Liam stares at the mess for a second, shakes his head and heads back out. I’m not about to finish the task myself, so I decide to leave it until morning.
I find Stevie curled up in bed, one of my old hoodies swallowing her whole. Laptop open. Sound asleep with papers scattered around her like autumn leaves.
I sit next to her, close her computer and kiss her temple. “We’re home.”
“Did it go well?” She blinks awake and smiles up at me.
“Amazing.” I set her laptop on the nightstand. “We missed you.”
She lifts her lips up to kiss me, but something seems off. Her lips part, warm and wanting, but her hand on my chest doesn’t grip my shirt and pull me toward her.
I tuck her hair behind her ear, watching her eyes. “You okay?”
“Yeah, why?” She shifts in bed and looks down.
“No reason.” I don’t press. “I need a shower.”
On my way to our bathroom, I strip out of my jeans and step under the scalding spray to try and recalibrate. The lights, the crowd, the crackle of adrenaline buzzes under my skin. Felicity’s voice echoes somewhere in my skull.
Stevie’s indifferent demeanor gnaws at me.
When I come back to bed, she’s on her side. One arm tucked beneath her cheek, blonde hair tangled across the pillow. The curve of her ass catches the amber light from the bedside lamp, soft and familiar and fucking perfect.
I slide in behind her, my cock is thick with the kind of ache only she can ease. My hand trails down the slope of her waist to her thigh, then nudges her knees apart as I press close. Skin to skin. Heat meeting heat.
She doesn’t say anything.
Just breathes.
Short, shallow.
I pull her panties to the side and guide myself between her legs, run the tip of my cock through her folds and ease into her pussy in one long, slow thrust. Tight. Wet. Fucking heaven. Her breath catches, and for a second I think I’ve got her.
She shifts her hips and rolls onto her stomach. Let’s me climb over and fuck her.
Except she doesn’t push back. Doesn’t gasp or clench or beg me to go harder. Her body takes me like it always does, but it’s quiet. Muted. Like she’s offering herself without being in it fully.
I move slower, grip her thigh tighter. Kiss her shoulder. The base of her neck. Slide my hand under her breast, thrum her nipple and wait for her to arch into me.
She doesn’t.
I keep going anyway, because I need her. After a show, this is how I reset. How I find my center. Buried in her. Breathing her in.
My hips roll in smooth, steady strokes. My orgasm builds fast, sharp and hot, cresting with a low groan into the hollow of her neck as I spurt inside her, every nerve fucking wrecked.
She doesn’t come. Or make any sound of enjoyment.
Fuck. I’m a selfish bastard. I kiss her shoulder again, fingers drifting down to where we’re joined. Try to stroke her the way she likes. Thumb circling her clit. Slow. Gentle.
“I don’t think it’s happening tonight,” she says softly after a bit and moves my hand away.
I still. Rest my hand on her hip.
“Okay,” I acknowledge, even though it’s not.
Everything in me wants to fix whatever this is. I want my feisty Stevie. All of her. “Babe, are you even with me?”
Holy shit, I unlock the floodgates. She turns, buries her face in my chest and starts to cry. Not softly. Hard sobs shake her tiny frame. I have no idea what’s wrong so I hold her tighter.
“I’m drowning,” she bawls. “I’m such a fuckup. I forgot to return an email. A huge one. It would’ve paid the band enough to cover the studio time outright. I didn’t even see it until tonight.”
My stomach drops. “Shit.”
“I’m so sorry, Padraig.” Her voice cracks. “I’m doing everything I can, I swear. But school’s hard this year. My classes are real. Demanding. I’m trying to be there for you and Liam. I can’t keep up. I’m failing at life.”
I stroke her cheek soothingly. “Stevie. Baby. You don’t have to—”
“I do. Because if I don’t, who will?” She sits up and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.
“You’re so happy. I see it. I’m so proud.
I’ve never seen you so alive. But you’re gone most nights now.
I miss you. I miss us. I don’t want to be some girl you fuck at three a.m. because you’re wired and horny. ”
I sit up beside her. Pull her into my lap.
“You are my everything. I miss us too, but I’m right here. I haven’t gone anywhere.” I thread my fingers through her hair.
“You haven’t left yet.” She leans her forehead against mine. “If I don’t go with you to a gig, I’m all alone with so much time to think. Sometimes it feels like maybe we’re not on the same path anymore and it scares the fuck out of me.”
I swallow hard. The thing is, she has nothing to worry about. I’m not giving us up for anything and if she doesn’t realize it, I’m the one who’s failing. I want it all. I want the band. I want her. I believe we’re strong enough to weather this. When we promised each other forever, I meant it.
“I’m not saying I’m gonna quit helping.” She exhales. “At the same time, I can’t keep up. I don’t know how much longer I can pretend I’ve got it all handled.”
Shutting off the lamp, I wrap her in my arms. “You never have to pretend. Not with me.”
“Liam’s gonna be furious.” Her arms circle my neck.
“Shhhh.” I feather kisses along her face. “We’ll sort it out in the morning.”
It’s nearly noon. I can hear Liam in the kitchen before I open our bedroom door.
His voice carries over the hiss of the electric kettle. Assuming he’s talking to Felicity, I tug on a clean t-shirt and pad barefoot into the hall toward the voices. Stevie trails behind me. No makeup, hair messy, one sleeve slipping off her shoulder. Her knuckles brush mine.
Immediately, I realize Liam isn’t with our singer. The deep, musical laugh isn’t one I recognize.
Stevie and I round the corner and stop short.
Liam’s got some guy pressed against the kitchen counter, one arm braced beside his head, the other wrapped around his waist. Their mouths are fused together, and it’s not some quick morning kiss. It’s slow and full-bodied. A snog fitting only if you’ve fucked all night.
The guy is shorter and stockier than Liam with unkempt brown hair and a full beard. I’m not sure if they hear us, but neither seem to be in any rush to break away from each other.
I cough. Once. Twice.
Liam finally notices us and straightens, lips red, breath shallow. “Morning.”
“Morning,” I manage.
The guy shifts to lean against the counter. The rolled sleeves of his checkered shirt hug muscled forearms. He’s got a pair of dark-framed glasses hooked into the collar of his tee. He exudes a calm, quiet energy and it feels like he already belongs here.
“This is Linus.” Liam nods to the guy.
“Nice to meet you.” His Irish accent is smooth and clipped.
Stevie’s eyes widen. “Wait. Are you in Professor Madigan’s event planning class? I think I worked with you on site maps during lab.”
“Aye.” He nods once, measured. “That’d be me.”
I look at Liam, who shrugs like this isn’t a huge deal, which we both know it is.
Before Stevie and I can say more, the front door creaks open and Felicity enters, thick braid tossed over one shoulder. She’s holding a single iced coffee and her backpack. When she sees Liam and Linus side by side, her whole body goes still.
She looks them up and down before abruptly fucking off toward her bedroom.
Stevie holds up her hand. “Felicity. Hang on. Can you stay for a sec?”
Felicity stops but doesn’t look back.
I take a step closer as Stevie wraps her arms around herself. She’s strong enough to handle this, but I want to be close if she needs me.
“I owe all of you an apology.” My girl looks down at the floor and back up again. “I completely spaced responding to the confirmation email for that big Eugene headlining festival gig. I tried to sort it out, but they gave the slot to someone else.”
“Are you fucking serious?” Liam winces. “We lost a two thousand dollar guarantee. The band needed the money for the studio.”
“I know. I’m truly sorry.” Stevie doesn’t break eye contact with my brother.
He shakes his head. “This sucks. You said you had it covered.”
“I thought I did.” She fusses with her hair. “I really fucked up.”
Liam exhales through his teeth. “So. Not. Cool.”
“Hold up, Dar. Stevie’s been running point on every single thing for this band for years.
” I take her hand. “She won’t take money, she does it because she loves us.
And, she’s been instrumental in getting us here.
She made a mistake. Give her a fucking break and don’t make her feel worse than she already does. ”
“I’m not trying to be a dick,” Liam gripes. “I’m rightfully disappointed.”
“I’ll do my best to get you back on the roster.” Stevie looks like she’s about to cry. “Padraig’s right. I love you guys. I love what you’re building.”
“We need to free you up.” I turn to her. “Last night you told me you’re drowning. You never promised to be our permanent manager. We can split up the duties and take some of it on.”
Linus sets down his mug and wipes his hands on his jeans. “I could maybe help.”
Everyone turns to look at Liam’s lover.
“I’ve worked with an indie label in Dublin. Admin. Logistics. Helped book band tours. All of it.” He shrugs. “I’d be happy to jump in.”
Felicity turns and narrows her eyes at him, but says nothing. Stevie looks utterly relieved.
Liam tilts his head. “Seriously?”
“Aye.” Linus meets Stevie’s gaze. “I can assist you for a bit. Doesn’t have to be permanent. That’d be up to you.”
The offer hangs in the air like a lifeline.
It sounds good. Too good.
Linus seems competent. Has qualifications. Maybe he’s the one person who could help Stevie wrangle our chaos. Did the universe drop the perfect partner for Liam into our lives?
Or, on the other hand, is it wise to allow one of Liam’s random hookups to help manage the band? The idea seems…
Worrisome.
I mean, will Liam keep Linus around?
Doubtful.
On second thought, this could be a disaster.