Chapter 28 Liam
twenty-eight
Liam
Five Months Later
Daniel’s Broiler looks like money fucked a lake house.
White tablecloths crisp as origami, wine glasses polished to a shine, and floor-to-ceiling windows let the lake do all the talking. Everything smells like seared beef, old money, and lemon-butter optimism.
My brother and I don’t belong here. Not really.
We walk in anyway.
Padraig and I trail in road-dust , but the host clocks Connor’s name and takes us straight to a prominent corner booth. The restaurant’s drenched in late-afternoon light, the lake outside glitters like the jewel of the Pacific Northwest it is.
Connor stands when he sees us, pulls us in one by one. He looks clean. Put-together. Sports a designer T-shirt costing more than our monthly tour budget. His arms are leaner and more defined than I remember. Stadium life suits him.
“Youse both look like shit.” He slides back into the booth.
“We missed you too,” I fire back, slouching next to Padraig. “Nice view. Real subtle.”
He smirks. “Treatin’ my brothers to something not fried or foil-wrapped.”
“Can’t argue with linen napkins and cushioned chairs.” Padraig glances around. “Haven’t been here since we were kids.”
The waiter drops off sparkling water without needing to ask. Connor always remembers the little things. Neither of us drink. Not since the incident. Some habits become second nature when you’re dedicated to not becoming your father.
We open with small talk. Gear, vans, recording schedules. Upcoming dates.
Connor already knows the most of it. We keep in touch via a three-way group text. An occasional call when service holds. Talking about it in person always lands different.
“Label’s small, but they believe in our music.” Padraig fills him in on our new plan. “We’ve got a timeline. Some real promo lined up.”
“Koko’s cutting vocals this week,” I add. “She’s sharp. Fast. Has instincts.”
Connor tilts his head. “Is she sticking around?”
“Tough to say,” I admit. “She’s cool. Talented. Tourin’ in a van with two broke Irish twins probably isn’t high on her vision board.”
Padraig adds hopefully, “She’s not a diva, though.”
“Aye.” Connor’s lips twitch. “Third singer in how many years?”
“Four.” I roll my eyes. “If you count the one gig where the guy tried to fuck the mic stand.”
“He was committed,” Padraig deadpans.
Connor laughs. “I still think about Felicity sometimes. What a storm.”
“Storms pass,” I mutter. As far as I’m concerned, the past is in the fucking past. No need to drum it up.
“Yeah, but she left carnage we haven’t been able to shake,” Padraig sighs.
No one says more. We don’t need to.
The waiter returns. Padraig and I order ribeye. Connor gets the salmon. Tons of sides.
“You still have the place in Federal Way?” Connor raises an eyebrow.
He doesn’t mean it like a question. He knows. We’ve talked.
“Yeah,” I explain. “Two-bedroom crash pad, cheap as fuck. Van’s in the lot. Storage unit two blocks over. Real high glamour, but we need somewhere to live when we’re not on the road.”
Connor huffs a laugh. “Probably better than most green rooms I’ve seen.”
“Cleaner too.” Padraig smirks. “No weird couch stains.”
The food arrives and we devour it. It’s so fucking good. It almost pisses me off. We’ve been choking down instant noodles and bar pizza for so long, a proper meal feels like betrayal.
Connor waits until the plates are half-cleared before he goes serious. “I’m not promisin’ anything.” He folds his hands on the table. “But if the next LTZ album lands the way the label hopes, we’ll do a US leg. Then Europe.”
I go still. Padraig doesn’t blink.
Connor looks between us. “I’ve already spoken to the guys. We want to bring you with us.”
It doesn’t hit all at once. It creeps. A weight in my chest. Familiar, hopeful, dangerous.
“You serious?” Padraig’s voice is eerily calm. Measured.
Connor nods. “Main support.”
“We’d have to find a way to get Koko to say yes.” My practical nature kicks in. No point in getting excited about another opportunity likely to be snatched away at the last hour. “She’s reluctant to commit to long tours.”
Fuck, I’m jaded.
“Well, I’m giving you a heads-up so if you need to, you can find someone new.” Connor threads his fingers together. “You’ve done it before.”
“Easier said than done. The girl’s got a killer tone.” I shrug. “Plus, Koko looks good on stage and has ambition. I’m sure we can convince her.”
“She’s a fuckin’ Siren, even when she’s pissed off.” Padraig rests his chin in his palm.
Connor smiles. “Well, keep your shit together so we can make this happen.”
We fall into a quieter rhythm. Talk setlists, radio play, venue sizes. Padraig and Connor swap notes on lighting rigs and tech crews. I tune in and out, watching the lake through the glass like it might give me a sign.
Padraig nudges me. “Dar, did you hear Connor’s question?”
I shake out the cobwebs and glance at him. Tilt my head expectantly.
“You hear from Linus?” Connor repeats, fork paused mid-air.
I go cold. I can’t say anything.
Padraig doesn’t let it go. “Jesus. You didn’t tell him?”
“He messaged again,” I admit. “Couple months ago. He started his own management company, has some cool acts.”
“And?”
“I didn’t answer.”
Padraig swears under his breath.
Connor watches us, quiet. “Why? You still have feelin’s for him?”
“It’s not about my feelin’s.” I wave him off, uncomfortable. The only person who really knows about my private life is Padraig and I’m a bit salty about him bringing this up in the first place.
“Then what’s it about?” Connor asks.
“He’s based in Dublin.” I come up with a lame explanation. “We’re here, hangin’ on by a fucking thread. What am I supposed to say? So glad you’re findin’ success with other bands?”
“He would manage us again in a fucking heartbeat.” Padraig shakes his head. “You could’ve responded to find out what he wanted.”
“He knows we’re over,” I snap. “We’ve both made peace with it.”
Connor looks at me. “You sure?”
“I’m sure he’s better off without me,” I seethe.
I have an uncanny way of shutting down a conversation. We all resume eating.
A few minutes later Connor tries again, “If the Europe leg happens, you could reconnect.”
“Hard pass,” I mutter. “I’m not entertainin’ a fuckin’ reunion tour while I’m still bleedin’.”
Padraig grips my wrist. “Might as well bleed with purpose.”
I want to punch something. Instead, I drain my water and crunch on a mouthful of ice. Swallow.
“You talk to Stevie?” I turn toward him and smile like the devil.
It’s petty. Mean. Retaliation is a bitch.
The silence that follows is different. Heavier.
“How are you holdin’ up?” Connor puts on his big-brother hat.
Padraig chews the inside of his cheek. “Nothing I can do to change it.”
“You gave up a lot for the band.” Connor taps the table with his fingertips.
Padraig glances at me, always leaning into diplomacy despite what an asshole I am. “We both did.”
“So.” Connor sits back, arms crossed, eyes sharp. “You ever think about comin’ home for a family dinner?”
His comment makes me nauseous.
Padraig exhales, pained. “Nah. It’s not home for us anymore.”
“He’s not drinkin.’” Connor leans back. “By all accounts, he’s tryin’.”
I laugh, sharp and mean. “Oh really? He tried to kill me. Now he’s tryin’ kale and yoga?”
“No,” Connor says. “He’s strugglin’ to stay alive. So is Ma. So are the boys.”
“Clearly, I wouldn’t know how to show up without starting a fire,” I spit out.
Connor nods patiently. “Then don’t bring a match. Come to dinner. See your brothers. Ignore Da if you want.”
Padraig looks at me. “We could go to say hi. Eat Ma’s stew. What I’d give for a taste of it.”
“I’ll think about it.” I look away.
When the bill comes, Connor lays down his black AMEX without a word. The check disappears like it never existed.
Outside, Lake Washington still shimmers in the background of where our beat-up old van is parked.
Connor throws one arm around each of us. “Let me know when you’re done with trackin’. I’ll keep you posted about the tour.”
Padraig hugs him again. Longer this time. Connor holds on.
Then it’s the two of us, staring at the lake like it might tell us who the fuck we are.
“Fuck. Do you still think we’ve got a shot?” I ask honestly.
Padraig opens the passenger door. “Dunno anymore. I think we’ve got somethin’ worth savin’.”
We climb into the vehicle. I start the engine. It turns over like a giant, roaring lion.
As we pull away, I tell myself all of this is still worth it.
Believe it.
Even if only for tonight