Chapter 23
twenty-three
Padraig
One week Later
Connor’s Belfast estate is like something out of the movies.
A kind of place I doubt he ever dreamed he’d own one day.
Iron gates groan open ahead of me as my taxi drives through, tires crunching over the gravel covering the long lane up to the house, which is sprawling and elegant, made up of clean lines and weathered stone.
To the side stands a detached triple garage with a loft perched above it like a watchtower.
The whole property looks out over Belfast Lough.
On a clear day you could probably see all the way to Scotland.
Today, however, it’s a typical stormy autumn day in Ireland and the slate-gray expanse is speckled with whitecaps. Wind cuts across the open fields with enough bite to make me pull my collar up.
The front door swings open before I reach it. “Ach, there you are!” my aunt Saoirse calls, her Belfast accent wrapping around every syllable as warm as the tea I know she’s going to force on me. She wears jeans and a sweatshirt with a scarf wrapped haphazardly around her hair.
“Aunt Saoirse.” I can’t help but smile as I step inside and stamp the chill off my boots.
“Come in, come in.” She ushers me toward her with a brisk wave and pulls me in for a hug only an Irish auntie can get away with.
It’s comforting. She smells faintly of lavender soap and fresh paint.
“We’ve got more to do than daylight for it.
Connor wants the master suite ready for himself and Ronni when they arrive next week.
Grab yourself a pair of gloves, lad. You’re not here for decoration. ”
I laugh under my breath and hang my jacket by the door. Saoirse’s always been direct, efficient, and not afraid to tell you exactly what needs doing. She’s Da’s older sister, and in a way she’s become a second mother to Connor, Liam and me whenever we’re touring Europe.
I follow her up the stairs. Connor’s bedroom stretches out across the top floor, glass doors opening to a balcony overlooking the lough. “It’s bloody huge.”
“Apparently, Connor, the famous rockstar, doesn’t do things by halves.” She quirks a small smile. “He’s worked hard for this. About time he has a place to call his own.”
Internally, I wince at the inevitable comparison between LTZ’s trajectory to Fireball’s. In the music industry, even though we’ve been at it much longer, we’re drastically less successful than Connor’s band.
“Yeah, well, he can afford to hire professionals instead of roping in his relatives.” I roll my shoulders and shake out my arms.
Saoirse snorts. “Aye, and give the neighbors more reason to talk? He’s in love with a famous actress, Padraig. They’re keeping it quiet. You know how the Irish love their gossip.”
“Fair enough,” I acknowledge.
Once we move the furniture out into the hallway, Saoirse hands me a roller and points to the far wall to prime over a dark-blue hue the previous owners painted the room.
I set to work, muscles moving on autopilot.
Throughout my teenage years, before Da’s accident, Liam and I had no choice but to help out at McGloughlin Construction from time to time.
I’m surprised at how good it feels to use my hands for something other than drumming.
Maybe I should take up art again.
Before long, the scent of fresh paint clings to the air as the walls change from outdated blue to soft white. Outside, the wind howls against the glass.
Saoirse breaks the silence first. “How’s your band, then?”
“Still standing.” I glance over my shoulder at her. “For now.”
She’s tilts her head like she’s trying to delve through the words I’m saying, into the mess underneath. “For now? What do you mean?”
“Koko’s leaving in a couple of months,” I admit, turning back to the wall.
“She’s been offered a production deal in LA.
Can’t blame her for taking it, she’s too talented not to.
I’m so tired of the same pattern, though.
. We find a singer, build momentum for a few years and then they’re gone.
Liam and I are holding it together with duct tape at this point.
Each time, I don’t know if I have it in me to start over, but I do it.
Not sure if it’s worth it, though. I’m getting sick of living on the road. ”
I dip the roller into the tray and pause, reflecting on the history of the band Liam and I have somehow been playing in for over a decade now.
Felicity’s face flickers through my mind, with her sharp eyeliner and sharper tongue. Liam and I were sucked in because, when she put her mind to it, could command a crowd with one flick of her wrist. God, I was so na?ve. She burned bright and burned me and Stevie to ashes.
Then came Arleigh. Polished. Precise. A professional to her core. She showed up on time, sang her parts, got along with everyone. No drama, but no fire either. We had a good run but ultimately, couldn’t manufacture enough chemistry to take things to the next level.
And Koko. God, Koko has everything we thought we wanted.
Seasoned, confident, capable of playing any room.
A tiny dynamo who combined the best elements of Felicity and Arleigh in one package.
In retrospect, she was never truly ours.
She always had her own solo aspirations. Fireball was one stop on the way.
I push harder on the roller before the paint pools too thick at the edges.
Sometimes it’s frustrating to be in the position we’re in.
Over the years, Liam and I have developed an incredibly strong work ethic.
We’re good songwriters and excellent musicians.
I suppose we can chalk up our twin chemistry to the fact we’ve had a middling level of success.
A few hit songs. A movie soundtrack here and there.
Of course, LTZ bringing us on their stadium tours as openers introduced us to a mainstream audience. On the other hand, it highlighted the glaring difference between our bands.
With LTZ, it’s like witnessing magic every single time they’re on stage.
It’s not merely talent propelling them success, it’s something deeper.
Authenticity. They’re riddled with their own problems but they trust each other.
Push each other to achieve excellence. They’re aligned and committed to the same path.
They’re so famous each of them has private security detail. A slew of PR representatives. A big New York management firm. Everything they do is in the public eye.
I don’t envy Connor or his bandmates in that respect.
We only get recognized from time to time by our superfans because we’re not on the cover of any big magazines. There aren’t thousands of social media pages devoted to us. Even our Grammy is in an obscure category.
The best I can say is Liam and I get by. We make a good-enough living. In musician circles, we’re respected and Liam’s content to find a new singer and keep coasting. He loves everything about the lifestyle. The touring, the music, and the blur of faces every night.
I can’t blame him. He’s able to be exactly who he is, unapologetically. He has me, of course, for emotional and professional support.
As far as relationships go, he’s given up and prefers to fuck groupies then send them on their way. I’ve walked in on him countless times with men, women, and every combination. He’s embraced his true self and is unapologetic for what he wants.
I’m stuck in limbo. Unable to stop thinking about what I gave up and what I’m missing.
What I once had with Stevie.
I miss the way she looked at me, like I was hers and she was mine and nothing else mattered. I miss the sound of her laugh in my chest when she fell asleep in my arms.
Fucking random women on the road doesn’t cut it anymore. It never has, truthfully, though I’ve indulged often to quiet the ache. Ultimately, when it’s over, I’m reminded of how empty I am. I’m tired of pretending sex is enough for me.
Realizing I haven’t answered my aunt, I rest the roller against the tray and drag a hand through my hair.
“I think Liam’s fine staying exactly where we are, as long as he can be on stage and play guitar, he’s good.
But me?” I shake my head. “Either we take the band to the next level or call it. I’m getting too old for this shit. ”
Saoirse studies me for a long beat. “You’re lonely.”
“Aye.” I swallow hard, and admit, “I am.”
Saoirse’s brows knit together. “What would you do if you left the band?”
“I wish I knew. Fireball’s not like LTZ. Connor makes stupid fuck-you money. Look at this house. It gives him freedom. We’re slogging and I barely have enough to buy a decent car.” I dip the roller back in the paint.
Her gaze fixes on mine. “Would walking away make you happy? How would Liam take it?”
The question hangs in the room like a challenge.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m tired of replacing singers, tired of feeling like we’re waiting for someone else to save us.
Liam might be annoyed at losing another singer but he’ll bounce back when we hire someone else.
I think he’d go on forever this way while all I can focus on is what I gave up to pursue this with him. For what?”
Saoirse sets her roller down, crosses the room and rests a paint-stained hand on my arm. “Padraig, from what I’ve gleaned, you’ve always held everyone else together at the expense of yourself. I’m asking you again. What do you want?”
I can’t help but remember Stevie asking me the same question so many years ago.
“I want a life. I want what I had.” The ache in my chest is sharp. “Something solid. Didja know Da gifted us each a townhouse? At least I have my own place now but it’s essentially empty. Sparse. It doesn’t feel like home.”
Her voice quiets. “You want love. A family.”
I swallow hard and nod.
“Ach.” Saoirse returns to her task and eases back on her heels to work on the baseboards. “Do you keep in touch with Stevie?”
I stop mid-stroke, my grip squeezing on the handle. “No. Ma does with her mom though. Apparently, she moved back to Seattle a few weeks ago.” The words scrape out of my mouth harshly.
Saoirse watches me like she’s afraid to push.
“So, I pick up bits and pieces. She and Cooper have two little girls now,” I continue. “She’s pregnant again. Due soon.”
Fuck, the ache is a physical thing, hollowing me out from the inside. Every time I allow myself to think about her, I wish it was me with her every day. I wish those kids were mine.
I plunk down the roller hard in the tray, splattering paint across my hands.
Saoirse doesn’t look away. “Ach, love. It can’t be easy for you.”
“I’m happy for her.” I drag a hand through my newly shorn hair, not caring if I get paint all over it. “Really. But—” My voice falters. “She was my person, Saoirse. Even after all these years, I don’t understand how she could have moved on so easily.”
Saoirse’s expression softens. “I’ll be honest, Padraig.
Love is a mystery to me and I can’t say I’ve ever known what you felt for her.
I scarcely understood how your ma stayed with Rory after the accident—the drinking, the pills—watching him fall apart.
I thought she was mad for putting herself and all of youse through it. ”
I glance over, surprised. Saoirse never confides in me about Ma and Da like this.
“Seeing hows he’s on the other side, doing better…” She shakes her head. “I suppose she and you are a lot alike. Rory’s her person. Always has been from the day and hour she met him.”
Huh. Frankly, I’ve never thought about my parents as two people in love, though I’ve often wondered how Ma chose to stick by Da when it nearly broke her.
“Their kind of love is rare,” Saoirse adds, holding my gaze. “It can wreck you when it’s gone.”
“I had it and I let her down. When she left, I didn’t fight for her.” I choke up. “She walked away because I didn’t give her a reason to stay after I fucked up so badly. Now I know, I’m never going to find what we had again.”
“Padraig, you two were babies. I know it seems like you lost a future you thought you’d have, which is a grief all its own.
” She pats my cheek. “But, remember she never wanted to be part of the band lifestyle. You’re a young man.
Don’t give up on having a family if it’s what you want.
Life doesn’t wait. There’s someone out there who’ll want to be your true partner if you give it half a chance. Learn from your mistake.”
“How?” I blink at her.
She leans forward slightly. “Don’t stay stuck in this cycle forever. You’ve been carrying this melancholy boo-hoo shite around for years. You’ve distracted yourself by pouring yourself into the band and Liam to numb your pain. Now you’re alone and you’re hurting. That’s no way to live.”
“I can’t seem to move past it.” I stare at the wall, a half-painted stripe blurring in my vision.
“It’s long past time for you to figure it out.”
Her words settle deep in the part of me I keep locked away.
Because she’s right.
The cost of stagnation is becoming unbearable.
We finish priming the room and spend the rest of the day moving furniture, clearing out the loft above the garage, and setting up guest rooms. Saoirse gives me space to think about everything we discussed and I’m grateful to have physical labor as a distraction to help me work through it.
I’ve spent years pretending I’ve gotten over Stevie. Pretending I’ve buried the grief. Though he remained notoriously tight-lipped, I’m pretty sure Liam’s urgent need to visit Dublin was to look up Linus.
God willing, they’ll reconnect and at least one of us will have a fulfilling relationship.
Then, maybe, he won’t rely on me so much for emotional support and I’ll be able to be fully honest with myself—and him.
I want something more than this life. I do want to meet someone. Build my own family.
Have something real again.
The question is, am I brave enough to go after it?