Chapter 13
thirteen
Liam
Four Months
The restaurant smells like cardamom and rain-soaked pavement.
A tiny bell over the door rings when we step inside, half-drowned out by sitar music floating from a decrepit old speaker hanging from a tenuous wire. It’s the only place still open this late, an Indian café tucked between a pawn shop and a tattoo parlor.
After three weeks on tour, it feels almost civilized.
Linus orders a mango lassi. I get water. Neither of us touches them.
We’ve been sitting here for fifteen minutes, and I can feel him studying me. Not judging. Watching. He’s good at observing me until I crack.
“You can stop lookin’ at me like I murdered someone.” I lean back in the booth, shoulders aching from load-in.
His mouth twitches. “You’ve been broodin’ since soundcheck. Don’t tell me it’s nothin’.”
“Could be the four hours of sleep or the fact we’ve spent three weeks living on crisps and gas-station coffee.”
Linus folds his arms. “It’s Felicity, isn’t it?”
I freeze. “What about her?”
“Come on.” His Dublin lilt wraps around the words, low and steady. “She’s snappin’ at the crew, changin’ setlists mid-show, and glarin’ daggers at Padraig every time he opens his mouth, so she is. You can’t tell me nothin’s going on.”
My stomach turns. He’s not wrong. He never is.
“She’s being herself,” I say finally, a poor attempt at dismissal. “She wants control. Always has.”
“She’s got it.” Linus’s gaze is sharp. “Over you, at least.”
I bark out a bitter laugh. “Jesus. You don’t miss a thing.”
He doesn’t blink. “Wanna tell me what’s up?”
The question lands like a punch. I glance at the table, at the tiny cracks in the wood, at my own reflection in the thick varnish. I want to lie. I really do.
Linus deserves better.
I exhale sheepishly. “Padraig doesn’t know I fucked her.”
His breath catches, barely. No shock, just quiet resignation. “You never told him?”
“I planned on it.” I’m mortified. My twin and I have never kept secrets. “Then it went too long. Now it’s weird and shouldn’t matter, but she’s tryin’ to use it to her advantage.”
He waits.
“She’s been danglin’ it over me ever since,” I admit. “She hates Stevie. She knows how much it’ll destroy Padraig if he finds out I messed anything up with her, and she knows it. It’s diabolical, isn’t it? She smiles and sings and makes me feel like filth in my own band.”
Linus nods once, the way he does when he’s processing. “Can you tell Padraig?”
“I’ve meant to for ages. He’s already on edge.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Christ. No. I can’t tell him. Not with Stevie gone on her internship. He’s barely holdin’ it together.”
“Maybe you underestimate him.”
“Maybe you don’t know him like I do.”
He leans forward, elbows on the table. “You’re carryin’ all of it, Liam. The guilt, the band, your brother’s heartbreak. You’ll snap if you keep it bottled.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” I force a half smile. “You saw tonight. I nearly lost it when she tried to rewrite the bridge mid-set.”
“She’s poison.” His voice softens. “You know it.”
“Yeah.” I stare at the condensation trailing down my glass. “I thought with my dick and not my head. Jokes on me.”
The waiter drops off our food—saag paneer, naan, two plates we don’t touch. I pick at a corner of bread, tearing it into pieces I never eat.
“How’s Padraig really doing?” Linus asks after a while. “With Stevie away for so long?”
I huff out a breath. “How do you think? He hides it well, but he’s gutted. She’s in fuckin’ Switzerland livin’ her dream and he’s stuck here with me, playin’ small clubs and pretendin’ he’s fine.”
“He loves her.”
“He does.” I nod. “He can’t seem to see she’s chasin’ something for herself. He wants to hold on for dear life.”
Linus studies me. “You’re scared he’ll leave the band.”
“Wouldn’t you be?” I meet his eyes. “He’s my twin. My anchor. Without him, I don’t know who I am.”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. The silence says enough.
For a while, we eat. Conversation around us blurs into white noise. Outside, the streetlights smear across the wet glass. I catch our reflection in the window. My sharp, unshaven cheekbones. His thick beard and brown, knowing eyes.
Two men who look far older than we are.
Linus clears his throat. “You know, you’re doin’ good work. With the band, I mean.”
I snort. “We’re hanging on by a thread.”
“Maybe. It’s not pure luck you’ve still got fans showin’ up, radio play, sold-out college shows.”
I glance up. “You really think so?”
He smiles, a little crooked. “Aye. You’ve got something special. It’s messy, sure, but it’s real. You need to believe in it again.”
Something inside me softens. He doesn’t know what it means, hearing someone I care about give me encouragement.
“You’ve saved our arses more times than I can count.” I smile over at him. “You’re a bloody miracle, Linus.”
He laughs quietly. “I’m a manager, not a saint.”
“You’re both.”
My comment earns a shy, faint grin. “Careful. I’ll start thinkin’ you fancy me.”
I tilt my head, watching him. “What makes you think I don’t?”
His eyes darken. The air shifts, dense and charged.
We sit in silence again. This thing between us looming.
Finally I break the tension. “We need to talk about us, don’t we?”
“Probably.”
“Your visa runs out when school’s over. You goin’ back to Dublin?”
“Unless someone offers to marry me,” he jokes, then winces when he sees my face. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I don’t want to think about losin’ you.”
He traces a finger around the rim of his glass. “What do you want, Liam?”
The question lingers. I stare at my hands, calloused and raw from the guitar. Try to find the words.
“I want Fireball to make it. I want Padraig happy. I want my family whole again.” My voice drops. “I want you.”
His lips part. “You have me.”
“For now.” I look up, meeting his gaze head-on. “Be honest. How long can we last? You’ll finish school, go home, build a life. I’ll still be chasing gigs in shitty bars. I’ll still want things I can’t have.”
He frowns. “Such as?”
“Sex. Connection.” I drag in a breath. “I love men. I love women. I’ve tried to choose, but I can’t. I don’t think I’m meant to.”
He’s quiet. The candle between us flickers, throwing light across his face.
“I don’t want to cheat on you,” I say. “I also don’t know if I can be the man who stays faithful to one person forever. It’s not about you. It’s about whatever’s broken in me.”
“Maybe nothin’s broken,” he murmurs. “Maybe we both want more.”
I huff out a laugh. “More doesn’t exist. Not in the world we live in. People don’t get to love two at once. Have you ever seen it in real life?”
“Polygamy?” He extends his hand across the table, fingertips brushing mine. “You ever think maybe there’s someone out there who could love all of you? And all of me?”
“Someone like who?”
“Maybe we’ll find her together someday.”
I shake my head, half laughing. “You’re mad.”
“Probably.” He squeezes my hand. “But it’s possible.”
His optimism does something to me. Something dangerous. I want to believe the world could be wide enough for an unconventional kind of love.
We fall quiet again, the background noise of the restaurant fading into white noise. He eats a few bites, finally drinking the lassi. I sip my water and let the moment settle.
“I don’t know if I’m courageous enough.”
Linus’s fingers trace my knuckles. “You’re not a coward, Liam. You’re the bravest man I know.”
The words affect me more than I expect. I swallow around the lump in my throat. “You shouldn’t make me feel things in public.”
He laughs softly. “Then finish your food before I make a scene.”
I grin despite myself, tearing off another piece of naan. “Bossy.”
“Manager,” he corrects.
We eat in companionable silence until the plates are nearly empty. Outside, the sky’s bruised purple. The rain’s stopped. When we step out, the air is cool and clean. It almost smells like a new beginning.
We walk side by side down the wet pavement, our shoulders brushing. Past neon signs, the rattle of a passing bus. He slips his hand into mine without hesitation. I don’t let go.
At the corner, he stops. “You still ashamed of what happened with her?”
“With Felicity?” I ask.
He nods.
“Every day.” I run a hand through my hair. “I wanted to feel something. Anything. I hate myself for it.”
He squeezes my hand. “Now you need to stop beatin’ yourself up. You made a mistake. Own it, learn, move forward.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not, trust me. I do think it’s worth trying.”
I look at him then, really look, and realize how much I need him. His steadiness. His quiet faith in me when I’ve got none left for myself.
He steps closer. “We’ll figure it out, yeah?”
“Yeah.” My voice is rough. “We will.”
We stand there for a long moment, the city lights glinting off puddles, his breath mingling with mine. Then he leans in and kisses me, tasting of mango and promise.
When we finally pull apart, I whisper against his lips, “You’re gonna ruin me.”
He smiles, forehead resting against mine. “Maybe. But I’ll make it worth your while.”
For the first time in weeks, the noise in my head quiets.
Whatever comes next. Tour, chaos, heartbreak, I know tonight will stay with me.
The moment when I believe something will last forever.
Even if it won’t.