Chapter 19
nineteen
Padraig
Four Months Later
New York City.
Fuck.
The Bitter End is smaller than I pictured.
Dark-red brick walls. Decades of graffiti and band stickers layered over the old plaster.
Why does every rock club seem to have low ceilings strung with twinkling lights?
At least this place smells faintly of fresh paint and coffee from the café next door instead of the stale dive-bar stench at most venues.
We’re in the middle of running Sinners’ Grace, a song everyone’s been playing on repeat for months. The one paying the rent right now. My sticks hit the snare sharp and clean in an attempt to keep pace with Liam’s guitar.
Arleigh steps up to the mic with an effortless poise.
She’s small and pale as porcelain with a sharp, androgynous beauty.
Black pixie cut with heavy liner smudged around piercing gray eyes.
She doesn’t bring the drama Felicity thrived on.
Doesn’t have a ton of complicated baggage.
Arleigh shows up, does the work, and leaves us space to breathe.
She joined the band a few weeks after we moved back to Seattle.
With Felicity, Stevie and Linus gone, Liam and I knew we couldn’t stay in Pullman, not with the ghosts in the house and the band stuck in neutral.
We found Arleigh a few weeks later and, for the first time in years, Fireball feels lighter. Cleaner. Fun.
We finish the last chorus. Liam bends over his pedalboard, letting the guitar wail one last time before cutting it off. He straightens, sweeps his hair out of his eyes, and shoots me a look.
“You’re tight on the fills.” He sets his guitar on its stand.
“Yeah, I know.” I lay my sticks on the snare and join him at the front of the stage.
Arleigh stretches out her neck and steps off the riser, glancing at me as she passes. “Don’t worry. Crowd’s gonna love it tonight.” She flashes a polite smile and disappears backstage, probably to warm up.
Liam sits on the edge of the stage and pats the space next to him, forearms braced on his knees. “Dar, I know you’re wound up.”
I plop down next to him. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” He squints, reading me the way only he can. “She’s coming tonight, yeah?”
I glance at the side door, where bartender guys are loading in kegs of beer. “Honestly? I don’t know.”
“You talk to her?”
“Aye.” I nod. “Said I’d love to see her. Told her I’d put her plus one on the list. She didn’t commit.”
Liam doesn’t have to say it out loud. I know she hangs out a lot with the guy from work. Cooper. She doesn’t call him her boyfriend but, by the way she avoids talking about him, I can read between the lines.
“Rough.” He leans back on his arms and stretches out his neck.
“Excruciating.”
We sit in silence, the sounds of the staff getting ready for the evening fill the room.
Liam nudges my boot with his. “Kills you, doesn’t it?”
“Fuck, yeah.” I swallow hard. “Every day without her.”
He exhales through his nose. “Linus and I…” He shakes his head. “It’s the same. He’s back in Dublin, I can feel him moving on. I hate it. I want him happy, but I wish it could be together. Honestly, what I want really doesn’t exist.”
“You mean bringing in a woman?” I ask tentatively because even though it’s me, Liam doesn’t open up on this topic much.
Liam restlessly drags a hand through his hair.
“We’ve talked about it. I’ve never been into anyone as much as Linus, but both of us also love women.
We talked a lot about how hard it would be to stay faithful.
How, ideally, we would meet someone who wouldn’t be scared off.
And for the record? What Felicity said about us was absolute bullshit.
She overheard us talking, twisted it and practically offered herself up. ”
My stomach knots. “Oh. You turned her down?”
“Of course we did. She wasn’t what we wanted. She was looking for an in and when she didn’t get it…” He shrugs, the bitterness in his voice obvious. “Well. You saw how it all went down. Thank God she’s gone. I’m sorry you lost Stevie in the process.”
I let out a slow breath, guilt and anger tangle up inside me.
Liam’s quiet for a beat before he smirks without humor. “Two sad Irish bastards. Writing songs about heartbreak in our twenties. Very on brand.”
“Jesus.” I huff out a laugh, but it dies quick. “You think she’ll come?”
“I think you should be ready either way. Whatever happens tonight, be kind to yourself.” He stares at the ceiling.
The last time I saw Stevie in person was Seattle, and I’ll never forget her look of hurt and betrayal. It rips me open in the middle of the night.
God, if only I’d told Stevie about Felicity coming on to me. Instead, I kept my mouth shut, convincing myself I was protecting her. Protecting us. Protecting the band. I see now how my silence made Stevie question everything we had.
How my cowardice and immaturity cost me the most important thing in my life.
I’m trying to make changes, even if it’s too feckin’ late for me and Stevie.
Taking charge of Fireball has forced me to grow a backbone.
To stand by decisions even when they blow up in my face.
Thankfully, Stevie and I have stayed in touch even if she shuts down the possibility of a future together.
She’s given me grace, which I don’t deserve.
Her life is different now. She’s happy with her job. Fiends. Maybe someone new.
“You’re not holding out hope, are you?” Liam asks.
I hesitate. “I’m trying not to, but I won’t love anyone the way I love her. I don’t know how to move on.”
“I know it seems futile.” He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Perhaps it’s time to figure out what’s next, Dar. We both need to.”
I nod, but as I climb down from the stage and glance at the venue doors, all I can think is whether Stevie will walk through them.
Will she be smiling at me or at someone else?
Could I survive if it’s the latter?
A couple hours later, I’m checking my phone like it’s a lifeline. Nothing. No Stevie. No text. No reply to the one I sent after soundcheck. We’re minutes from stepping onstage and I have to accept she’s not coming.
Liam slaps my shoulder as we line up side stage. “Head in the game. We go out there tight.”
I nod and follow him out into the dark stage and can see the club is packed wall-to-wall. Two hundred bodies pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, voices lifting in a cheer so loud it rattles my ribs.
All for us.
Arleigh’s first to the mic and the stage lights illuminate her form as Liam and I take our places.
She’s been a game-changer for our vibe. She’s gorgeous and naturally magnetic, with a throaty rasp that threads through Liam’s guitar perfectly.
I settle behind my kit, sticks in hand, and the roar of the crowd drowns out the knot in my chest.
By the time we hit the opening chords of Broken Compass, the room explodes. Liam’s solo blazes, Arleigh’s voice a perfect counterpoint, and the crowd surges with us. Each song feels better than the last. By the time we hit the encore, Ghosts on the Wire, I almost forget she isn’t here.
The energy in the room pulls me under and I’m lost in our music and the crowd who loves us. When the lights drop and the last chord rings out, I let it wash over me.
The three of us towel off backstage, Liam already grinning as he strips off his shirt for a clean one. “Good fucking show,” he beams, sweat dripping off his nose. “Best in weeks.”
Mitch, our one-person road crew, gestures toward the stage door. “Come on, guys. Fans are waiting. You know the drill.”
We do. We’ve made a point of it since we started this tour. We talk to everyone who buys a ticket, sign whatever they hand us, and thank them for coming out. We’re slowly but surely building enough loyalty to keep a place like this packed on a Tuesday.
At the merch table, we pose for selfies, sign our limited-edition vinyl, scrawl our names across shirts and setlists while Mitch sells t-shirts and snaps pictures for socials. Eventually, the crowd winds down and the energy softens as the line thins out.
Then I see her.
Tucked into the far corner, leaning against the brick wall, watching us.
Her hands are shoved in the pockets of a dark-green trench coat.
She’s wearing black tights, ankle boots and a soft gray scarf looped around her neck.
Her hair’s a little longer than it was in Seattle.
She’s not wearing much makeup, but she doesn’t need it. She never has.
Stevie Hayes is as breathtaking now as she was the first time I saw her.
Liam follows my gaze and his whole expression softens. He elbows me gently. “We’ll take care of all this. Go get your girl.”
I’m rooted for a second, stuck watching her like she’s a mirage I’m afraid will vanish.
Our eyes meet.
It’s all I need.
I cross the room like I’m walking through water, every step slow and heavy. Stevie doesn’t move from the wall or break my gaze. When I’m close enough, her breath catches, and then I’m pulling her into me, arms locked tight around her shoulders.
She fits against my chest exactly how I remember.
Neither of us lets go. For seconds. Minutes. Hours.
I press my face into her hair and breathe her in. My whole body shakes with sobs. She’s crying too. Our shoulders tremble as the noise of the club fades into nothing. A year of distance collapses in the space of a heartbeat.
I murmur against her temple, “Come with me. We can go to my hotel. We can just talk. Please.”
“Padraig…” She stiffens a little in my arms and pulls back enough to search my face. Her eyes are red-rimmed, wet.
“Are you alone?”
Her breath hitches. “Yeah.”
Relief washes over my entire body. This is my one shot, and I’m not going to miss. I cradle her face gently, thumb brushing away the tear clinging to her cheek. “Then let’s get outta here.”
She hesitates for a second. Then she nods.
I lace my fingers through hers. Afraid she’ll disappear if I loosen my grip.
Liam catches my eye from across the room and gives me the smallest nod of approval.
We slip out into the cool New York night, hand in hand, the city’s noise crashing around us.
I’m certain about one thing.
Stevie’s mine and I’m never letting her go again.