Chapter 37
thirty-seven
Padraig
Six Weeks Later
The heat hits first.
Not only from the sun, but from fifty thousand bodies pressed together in an open field, their roar building until it’s a living thing.
The stage shakes under my kit, every kick drum thud shoots up through my legs. Liam’s guitar wails to my left, Avonna prowls the front edge, hair whipping, her voice cutting sharp and clean through the chaos.
I lock into the bass loop I built for this song, feel it punch through the subs and into the crowd, shaking the barricades. Think about the years of dingy clubs, gear rattling in the back of borrowed vans, half-drunk sound guys. We climbed every rung to get here.
Almost twenty years of slogging to be what Rolling Stone calls “the longest overnight success.”
Flags snap above the crush of people, pint cups lift in salute.
When Avonna throws her mic toward them, they scream the chorus of Tir na nóg back so loud my teeth buzz.
Liam shoots me a sideways grin, sweat dripping, hair plastered to his face, and I answer with a hard crash on the cymbals to make him laugh.
Every song blurs into the next. Muscle memory takes over while my head rides the high. The view from behind the kit is all motion, lights sweeping in wide arcs, hands raised in unison, the shimmer of all the colors of fifty-thousand festival-goers.
It’s beautiful, in its way. Wild. Free.
Even as I push into the last chorus, my mind drifts to home. Rafferty’s lopsided grin when he sees me on FaceTime. Stevie’s laugh when the girls argue over who gets to hold the phone. Jude waving a plastic drumstick like he’s part of the band.
We hit the final note hard enough to shake the risers. Avonna throws her arms up and the roar doubles. Liam soaks it in, eyes closed, every bit the rock star he was born to be. I take it in too, pride swelling. Not for me. For us.
For every mile, every fight, every night we slept sitting up so the van’s heater could keep the gear from freezing.
Then the crew is pulling us offstage to set up for the next act. Linus waits with fresh bottles of water and a grin indicating the set landed flawlessly. I nod, catching my breath. Rockstar adrenaline’s a drug, but the first thing I want isn’t another hit.
It’s my people. The real ones. The ones not here.
I’m already calculating time zones, figuring out if I can catch the kids before they’re off to school.
The stage manager waves us toward the wings. I’m soaked with sweat, my wrists buzz from the last cymbal crash and my heartbeat is synced to the crowd’s chant. We spill into the tunnel under the stage, crew darting in every direction, cables coiled, amps rolling out to the trucks.
Liam hooks an arm over my shoulder. “Flawless.”
“Thanks, Dar.” I kiss his cheek and he’s off, replaying riffs in his mind as if he’s onstage. Linus flanks Avonna, whose talking to a notoriously demented radio host, her hair is dripping, eyeliner smudged to perfection.
I take in all of it, proud as hell as the clock in my head runs the numbers. Barcelona, 4:30 p.m. Seattle, 7:30 a.m. Perfect.
A quick shower later, I’m in our trailer wearing a fresh hoodie and jeans. My night’s not over, it stretches on for a few more hours with interviews, meet-and-greets, and various sponsor crap.
Before any of it, I find a quiet corner behind the hospitality tent and hit Mara’s number. She answers with Rafferty in her arms, the camera jostling as he reaches for the phone.
“Da-da-da-da,” he babbles, cheeks flushed from breakfast.
“Hey, wee lad.” I smile so hard it hurts.
He bangs a toy against the tray of his highchair, determined to be louder than the noise in my background. Mara rolls her eyes and adjusts him so I get a better view. Ten minutes of peekaboo, a blown kiss, and a promise to call tomorrow before she heads to the park.
Next, Stevie.
“Hold on,” she says before I can speak, “they’ve been waiting.”
She turns the camera, and Jude waves with half a waffle in his mouth, Lila blows kisses like she’s on TV, Isla pretends not to be excited but her fidgeting gives her away.
We talk about breakfast, school drop-off, and how the girls’ fairy light fort is now a “permanent structure.” They give me a full virtual tour, spinning the phone until I’m dizzy. It’s chaotic and perfect.
By the time I hang up, I’m lighter. The noise of the festival fades under the sound of their voices in my head.
The next morning, I’m in my hotel room. It’s dark except for the glow of the phone and the table lamp. I have the curtains drawn and the air is pretty stale and dry. I’ve been lying here since five, half-awake, waiting.
Stevie’s call comes through, video immediately angled so I see her in bed, hair loose, voice low.
She’s excited because her first event is booked. It’s nothing huge, but a good way to get her feet wet. I tell her about all of the after-party shenanigans and how I’ve been hanging out mostly with my drum tech, Vince. Liam, Avonna, and Linus are in their own world, and I’m not part of it.
As usual, our conversation turns quiet, slower. We’re able to stare at each other through the screen in the kind of space we only get when the kids are out cold and miles of ocean make the wanting sharper.
“God, I miss you. I wish you were here.” She settles back against her pillows. Her tank strap slips halfway down her arm, showing me a slight bit of cleavage.
I smile into the dark. “I’m working on it.”
“So…do you have something for me, drummer boy?” She bites her finger.
My eyes track the neckline of her tank, how it shifts with her breath. “Maybe. What’re you wearing under there?”
“Guess.” She doesn’t hide the heat in her eyes.
“Nothing,” I say as I yank the blankets down and expose my hardening cock.
She tips the camera down, angling it so I can see straight down her shirt. The neckline gapes enough to reveal the curve of her breasts, nipples peaked and straining against thin cotton. “You know me too well.”
“Take it all off.”
Her chin dips, eyes locked on mine through the screen.
One hand slides under the hem of her shirt, peeling it up and over her head in one smooth lift.
Her breasts sway free, full and perfect, nipples tight and flushed.
Next, she grabs the elastic of her sleep shorts and slides them over her hips, baring the smooth swell of her belly, then lower, revealing the soft, tempting curve between her thighs covered in soft, blonde hair.
My cock thickens to full attention instantly.
“Christ, Stevie.” My hand closes around the base, giving it one slow stroke. “Spread your legs for me.”
She allows her knees to fall open and moves the camera down to catch every glint of wetness. My mouth waters and every muscle is tight with the need to taste her. To have her shuddering under my tongue.
“What’re you thinking?” She cups her tit and pinches her nipple.
“I’d give anything to be there, tasting you.” My hand moves over my cock again, slow enough to make my teeth clench. “Let me see you touch yourself.”
Her fingers drag through her folds, unhurried, gathering every trace of moisture.
She brings them to her mouth, lips parting as her tongue curls around the tips, sucking until her cheeks hollow.
The wet sound punches straight through me, heat ripping down my spine.
My hips twitch, cock straining for her, for the taste she’s teasing me with from half a world away.
“Don’t you dare come yet,” she warns as her fingers circle lazily over her clit. “I want to see you.”
I shift the phone, angling it down until the frame’s full of my fist stroking my cock, thick, flushed, glistening at the head. Her eyes widen, lips parting on a quiet gasp.
“Jesus, babe…” she breathes, her hand faltering for half a second before she catches herself. “You’re so hard for me.”
“Keep going,” I growl, my grip sliding from base to tip, slow enough to make my own stomach tighten.
Her gaze pins me, pupils blown so wide they swallow nearly every trace of color. Her chest heaves in quick, shallow bursts, breasts rising high, nipples tight and flushed, begging for my mouth.
She bites her lip, but her eyes stay fixed on the slow pull of my hand over my cock, watching every stroke, every bead of pre-come running down the length. Her breathing stutters when I squeeze at the base, dragging it out, and I swear I feel the heat of her stare through the screen.
She shifts, thighs flexing, pussy glistening in the light, and I know she’s imagining me there. My mouth, my fingers, my cock filling her until she forgets her own name.
“Get your toy,” I tell her, leaving no space for her to pretend she didn’t hear.
Her hand dips out of frame. When it comes back, she holds the pale-pink vibrator which is about the size of my cock.
“Prop the phone up where I can see everything.”
Stevie sets the phone on her stand and positions between her legs so the camera catches everything. Her spread thighs. Swollen pink pussy. Glistening and ready. She flicks the tip through her slit until it shines with her arousal.
“Now push it in,” I beg. “I want you take all of it.”
She’s so wet, the head parts her folds easily, disappearing inch by inch into her tight heat. I can see her clench around it and the way her inner walls stretch and ripple as she works the length deeper until the curved handle rests flush against her.
“Oh, God,” she moans.
“Now, pull it out. Slow until I can see you open.”
She obeys, withdrawing until only the head is inside. A faint squelch comes through the speaker, obscene and perfect. Then, she slides it back in with a wet glide so viscerally naughty, my balls tighten and I have to clench my base to avoid blowing my load too soon.
“Now turn it on and fuck yourself with it,” I demand. “Hard. Make me hear how wet you are.”
“Yeah, okay…” She flicks the switch and drives the toy in fast, hips rising to meet each thrust. Her clit catches against the curve every time, pulling gasps out of her throat. Her nipples stand tight and flushed as her breasts bounce with each movement.
The sound of her getting herself off fills my headphones, filthy and addictive.
“Eyes on me,” I remind her when they flutter shut.
Her gaze locks with mine. “I’m trying, it feels so good.”
“Tell me.” My hand moves faster over my cock, lubricating myself with pre-come.
“It’s…warm,” she moans, “buzzing through my clit, right up into my belly.” Her hips roll, pushing the toy higher. “It’s thick. Stretching me. I feel every ridge.” She rocks against it, eyes half-shut. “Fuck. I want it deeper. Where you’d be. Hitting my spot.”
She drives it in to the base, her pussy gripping tight, wetness catching the light. Pulls it halfway out, then pushes it back in with a wet, filthy sound.
“How full are you?” I growl.
“Full enough I can feel my pulse in my pussy,” she gasps, voice fraying at the edges.
My hand fists tighter. “Christ, Stevie. You’re fucking gorgeous. You don’t know what you do to me.”
“I’m—oh, fuck—I’m right there—” She drives the toy harder, wetter, her thighs trembling.
Her back arches, hips jerking, a broken cry tears from her throat. The toy glistens as she fucks herself through it, juices dripping down her fingers. Her chest heaves and mouth falls open while her whole body ripples with aftershocks.
“God, yes, baby. Show me. Let me see you lose it for me.” I stroke faster, watching every twitch of her clit against the toy.
Her moan shivers through the speaker, eyes glassy but locked on mine. “Your turn.”
I pump like a goddamn madman, the sound of beating off fills the space between us. Her gaze flicks down my chest, over my abs, locking on the head as it glides through my fist.
“Oh, yeah.” She licks her lips. “I want you to come all over yourself so I can lick you clean.”
Holy. Fuck.
I brace one hand on the mattress, muscles tight, eyes never leaving hers as the heat pools, sharp and inevitable. “Fuck, Stevie… I’m—”
She leans in, her voice all silk and sin. “Give it to me.”
My orgasm rips through me like wildfire. Thick ropes stripe my stomach, my chest, and my neck. I jerk myself until every drop is wrung out under her watchful eyes, groaning low. Riding it out until I’m a shuddering, breathless mess.
When I open my eyes again, she’s smiling. Slow and knowing, flushed from her own high.
“God, I can’t wait for you to be inside me for real.” Stevie blinks sleepily.
“Counting the days,” I agree. “Tonight will hold me over, but when I get home, we’re gonna need a whole weekend of fucking. Maybe more like a year.”
Her laugh is quiet but warm. “You always were stubborn.”
“And you always were worth it.”