Chapter 17 Padraig
seventeen
Padraig
A Few Days Later
The Showbox breathes, even in silence.
By late afternoon, the air throbs with a low electric current you only feel in rooms with history etched into every square inch. Scuffed floors. Freshly painted mushroom pillars. These walls have witnessed thousands of voices rise and fall.
I can almost hear the ghosts of a hundred bands tuning up and their amps crackling to life.
Liam crouches near the monitors, guitar tucked against his knee, his head bent over the strings while he tunes. Linus is beside him, talking low to the house sound tech. The two of them have developed an unspoken rhythm, threading between every look and nod.
Like Stevie and I used to have.
Felicity’s planted at center stage, perched on a stool with the mic tilted toward her mouth, humming under her breath. Her heel taps a relentless beat against the stage, sharp enough to grate on my nerves before we’ve even started.
I sit behind the kit and tap the snare once. The crack echoes through the space. Felicity whips around and shoots me a dirty look. I’ve probably interfered with her “process.”
Deliberately.
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 star royalty, 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
I spin her in a circle right there in the middle of the Showbox floor, and kiss her like I’m starving. She tastes like mint and heaven. When it’s gone on a beat too long, she laughs into my mouth, clutching my shoulders. I don’t care who’s watching. We’ve spent too many nights apart.
When I finally let her go, Liam’s smirking behind me. Linus stands beside him with a quiet, welcoming smile.
“About fuckin’ time you got here.” Liam tugs her into a hug.
“Welcome home,” Linus adds, kissing her cheek.
Felicity doesn’t move from where she’s sitting on the edge of the stage. She watches us like she’s daring Stevie to get comfortable. The moment Stevie catches her eye, Felicity’s mouth curves into a smile full of venom. Staking her territory. Letting my girlfriend know she’s not welcome.
Stevie stiffens next to me, so I take her hand in mine and squeeze. “Come on, we’ve got dinner reservations.”
We duck out the side door into the brisk night air and cross the street to Pike Place Market. Matt’s glows with a soft light above the cobblestones, and I hold the door open for her.
“Matt’s? Ohmygod.” She squeezes my hand.
I press my hand on her back lightly as we’re shown to a table by the window overlooking the Market and Puget Sound. “I figured you’d be starving.”
By the time our food arrives, my stomach’s too knotted to eat.
“You’re not touching your food.” She sets down her fork. “You don’t go on for a couple hours, you should have time to digest.”
I shake my head, staring at the untouched plate in front of me. “I know. It all hit me today. I’ve realized Felicity has to go.”
“Wow.” Her eyes widen, then she laughs. “You’ve always been the one who insisted on keeping her. If I didn’t trust you so implicitly, I might have been worried about what it meant.”
“I know.” I rub the back of my neck with something resembling shame. “All this time, I thought I was protecting the band. Keeping it together. But I’m not. I’m holding it back.”
She reaches for my hand across the table. “I’m glad you finally see it. You’ve carried too much on your shoulders, baby.”
I swallow, which feels like dragging glass.
Stevie changes the subject to our plans for the weekend. She wants to see her parents, maybe visit my family if they’re around. I want to disappear into a hotel room and make love to her and let the rest of the world fall away.
We settle on a combination of both.
By the time we get back to the Showbox, the venue is packed and buzzing. I lead her over to where Connor and the guys from Less Than Zero are setting up.
“Stevie.” Connor’s eyes light up as he bear hugs her. “Let me introduce you to the lads. Tyson, Zane, Jace—this is Stevie, Padraig’s girlfriend…or should I say, wife? You’ve been together for, what? Eight years?”
Tyson, the frontman, is shy. He shakes her hand with a soft smile, blue eyes bright with a quiet charisma he can’t turn off. Zane, full of bouncy energy and effortless swagger, waves as he tunes his guitar. Jace offers a nod from behind the kit, sticks tapping against his thigh.
I watch the easy way Connor laughs with his bandmates, and my chest aches with a mix of pride and something darker. Jealousy. They have a chemistry Fireball doesn’t have anymore.
When LTZ takes the stage, the room filled with our fans erupts.
Ty’s voice is a force, deep and textured, pulling every person in the crowd closer.
Zane’s guitar weaves in and out of it like they’re connected in some way.
Connor’s bassline is solid and sure, and Jace’s drumming drives it all forward with precision.
It’s tight. Polished. Pure magic in a bottle.
I glance at Stevie standing next to me. Her eyes glow, caught in the current. I feel a twist of bitterness again. Envy for what my brother has found.
When it’s our turn, the difference is impossible to ignore.
Felicity steps up to the mic, tosses her hair and panders to the audience in the most inauthentic manner. Her voice is technically perfect, but her presence is all hype. Liam’s playing is sharp but detached. And me? I’m phoning it in. Every beat I hit feels heavier than the last.