Chapter 14 Stevie
fourteen
Stevie
The Next Morning
He’s already inside me when I open my eyes.
Our bodies fit the way they always have. Perfect. Familiar. Everything I’ve ever needed.
Not enough to quiet the ache building in my chest.
Padraig’s forehead is buried in my neck.
His arms are braced on either side of my head like he’s holding himself upright with muscle memory alone.
We move in a rhythm so old it’s tattooed into my spine.
Slow. Deep. A little ragged. He kisses me mid-thrust, mouth hot and open, tongue sweeping mine like it’s been six months since Switzerland and not six hours since the last time.
I squeeze my legs around his hips. “Harder.”
He groans into my neck, shifts the angle and fucks me until my thighs burn.
I come with his name breaking from my lips. His breath catches in a suspended, sacred moment—then he’s spilling inside me, chest crushed to mine, whispering ‘love you, love you, love you,’ like a vow.
We don’t move for a long time.
My nails scrape lightly along his back. His hand drifts down my side, smoothing the sheet over my hip. He presses a kiss behind my ear, then my shoulder, then my collarbone like he’s memorizing my body cell by cell.
“Good morning,” I say softly.
He nods against my skin. “I wanted you to wake up full of me.”
I press a hand to his chest. His heart pounds too fast. Mine echoes it.
There’s no easy way to say what needs to be said.
Instead, I reach for his hand, lace our fingers, and pull it over my chest until he’s cupping the swell of my breast like he always does when we’re tangled in bed and avoiding the outside world.
“I booked my flight.” I hold his gaze. “July first.”
He winces.
I don’t have to say where. We’ve gone over every piece of it already. He knows the start date, the program timeline, the salary, the apartment I’ll be sharing in Hell’s Kitchen with three other girls I haven’t met.
What we haven’t done is talk about what any of it actually means for us. Every time I try, he changes the subject.
Only now, we’re nearly out of time.
Padraig rolls off me and stares at the ceiling. Doesn’t say anything at first. His finger draw a slow, absent circle on my hip.
“I figured,” he says after a long pause.
I comb my fingers through his hair. “I didn’t want to spring it on you, but…”
“I didn’t want to think it’s real.” He swallows hard. “I can’t picture you leaving. It fucking kills me.”
I know there’s nothing I can do to soothe him. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“I know.” His hand slides to my waist and tightens slightly. “I know.”
I shift up enough to see his face. His lashes are wet. “Babe, we have to talk about this.”
“Okay.” He jerks his head to stave off the tears. “Let’s do it.”
“Start with what you want.” I kiss the stubble on his chin.
He turns to face me. “I want you. I want this. I want to wake up to you every fucking morning. I want you to stay.”
“Padraig.” I grip his arm. “I need to go, babe. I need to know I can make it on my own, outside of you. Outside of us.”
His brows draw in, not angry. More…afraid. “We’ve always been us.”
“We still are.”
“Since we were kids.” He turns his head to meet my eye.
“I’m aware.”
“Then why—”
I cut him off. “If we don’t stretch on our own, we’ll shrink what we could be together.”
My words sink in. Slowly. Like a tide rolling out and taking every bit of steadiness with it.
I sit up, drag the sheet around me, and rest my elbows on my knees.
“We’ve been joined at the hip since we were kids.
We fell in love and by seventeen we were as serious as a married couple.
Padraig. This opportunity is important to me.
For the first time in my life, I have something that’s mine.
I’m excited and I can’t even talk to you about it because you brush it under the rug.
Or change the subject. This isn’t how we are or how I want us to be. ”
“Fine. It fucking scares me.” Padraig raises his voice. “I can’t live without you, don’t you understand? When you were in Switzerland, it was the worst six months of my life. You have no idea what I had to—”
“I know you’re angry.” I interrupt by taking his hand. “You’re disappointed I’m not helping with the band. We can talk about all of this.”
He shakes his head. “What’s the point? You’ve made the decision. You have no interest anymore.”
“I do and we both know why I backed away.” I squeeze his fingers. “I don’t want to fight about Felicity and my thoughts about her because this is about us. I want us. But we’re stuck in limbo and it’s not healthy if we can’t have a simple conversation about our future.”
His voice cracks. “Fuck it. The band can go on without me. I’ll move with you. We can figure it out together.”
“Babe.” I hold his gaze. “You don’t even know what moving forward looks like right now other than Fireball.”
He starts to object, but I shake my head.
“Over the past couple of years, I’m watching you shrink.
Where is the opinionated, take-no-prisoners boy who went after what he wanted?
You’ve been going through the motions like you’re waiting for permission to speak.
With Fireball, everything you do is about appeasing Felicity. You’re losing yourself.”
He swallows hard.
“You used to have a strong point of view. You fought for songs, for the sound. Now you go along with this toxic situation the band finds itself in. Both Liam and Linus want to make a change and you’re fighting it like you’re afraid of blowing everything up.
And now you say you’ll leave it all behind to move with me to New York? Make it make sense.”
I watch him wrestle with my words, but I keep going because this tough love is a long time coming. “I think you can’t bear to disappoint the people who matter to you and it’s preventing you from speaking your own truth It kills me. You’re only disappointing yourself.”
“No, you actually don’t get it.” He sucks in his lips. “The only thing I’m scared of losing is…”
My breath catches.
“You.”
His fingers haven’t let go of mine.
“We’re not breaking up,” I whisper.
Padraig glances out the window. “Except, it kinda feels like we are.”
“You’re not being fair,” I protest. “Moving into a new phase and talking about how we navigate it is not breaking up.”
His voice cracks. “Why can’t you put it off for a year ? Or, say you’re not going.”
I don’t.
I can’t.
I shift to face him fully and grab his other hand. “It’s not cool to make me feel bad for wanting something for myself. You have the band. You have Liam.”
“Of course it’s not cool. I’m being selfish. You don’t think I get it?” He shakes his head glumly.
“No.” I lean my head on his shoulder. “I think you do.”
“No shit.”
“I’m not going because I don’t love you. I’m going because I do.” I try to reassure him.
He grunts. “That makes no sense.”
“It does. You aren’t seeing it from my perspective.”
His hand slips from mine and curls into the sheets. “No, how can I? It’s not what I want and I’m not going to pretend I’m okay being without you. .”
“I don’t want us to be apart either.” I lean back against the wall. “At the same time, I’ve been telling you for years I don’t want to be on the road and tour. It’s not the life for me. Doesn’t mean it’s not the life for you.”
“What about our promise to each other?” He punches the mattress. “Forever flames. Now you’re taking it away.”
“We’re not kids anymore.” I fold my arms across my chest. “You need to figure out what you want without me up in your grill every single day. For example, whatever happened to your art? You haven’t picked up a brush in easily two years.
If you were to say to me, ‘Stevie, I want to leave Fireball because I miss art and I want to study in New York, here’s where I plan to take classes.
’ Then I’d be psyched for you to come with me. ”
He exhales sharply. “Why does it seem like you’re making the choice for me?”
“God. You’re not listening.” I squeeze my eyes shut in frustration.
“I want you to figure out if you’re staying in Fireball because it’s your passion or because you’re afraid to disappoint Liam.
Because you have me as a safety net, you’re no further along figuring it out than when we started college.
What do you want to do with your future. ”
He says nothing.
“Figure out what your own goals are. For yourself. Without trying to appease me. Or him. Or anyone.” I’m trying so hard to get through to the person I love most in the world and I’m watching him shut down.
“I told you.” His voice is hoarse. “I want you.”
“You have me. Me taking a dream job doesn’t change anything other than we won’t be in each other’s pockets every minute of the day.” I pull him into my arms.
He squeezes me closer.
I stroke his back. “Get it through your thick skull. We’re not breaking up. We’re changing the shape of what our relationship looks like. Give ourselves some time to grow up a little. We’ll text. We’ll visit. We’ll have video sex. We’re gonna keep loving each other through this transition.”
He pulls back and studies me like he’s memorizing the lines of my face. “Do you really believe we’ll be okay?”
“I do.” I nod, kissing his chin. “More than okay. We’re gonna become who we’re meant to be. And then we’ll be together again—stronger, clearer.”
Padraig closes his eyes. “I hate it.”
“Don’t. We’ll come back together. Not as two kids trying to figure it out, but two adults choosing each other.”
His eyes pop open. “Promise?”
“I swear.”
He wraps his arms around me like he’s never letting go.
And the truth is, he’s not. Even if we’re not under the same roof or sharing the same bed.
By taking time apart, our love isn’t leaving.
It’s becoming.