Scrambling backwards, Danny held up his hands defensively. “Listen, would you? I’m only here because I wanted to be sure it was all okay for me to be on tour again.”
Conor stopped in his tracks. He would never understand Danny Boy’s thought process. If he even had one, that is. His reliance on pure impulse was repugnant to Conor’s own sensibilities.
“This was already decided. Did you think coming to my house at four in the morning would somehow make me change my mind? And just what the fuck would you have done if I was asleep in my bed? Broken in like you did to Shay? Scare the bejesus out of my girl like you did Jessica?”
“Ah, it wasn’t like that,” Danny Boy said dismissively. “And I would’ve just waited until you were up.”
“Get the fuck out. I’m done.” Conor started to walk to the main house.
Danny Boy ran around and blocked Conor’s way with arms stretched out. When he saw Conor’s steely response, he dropped to his knees.
“I’m begging you, man. Take pity, won’t you? I swear I’ll only be good. No messing, okay?”
“You’re—”
The lights came on inside the house, followed swiftly by the outside lights, illuminating the odd positioning of the two men. In the next moment, Felicity opened the door on the upper deck and stepped out. She wore flannel pajama bottoms, a thin cotton tee shirt, and a sleepy expression.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Go inside,” Conor told her. “This is over. Danny Boy’s leaving.”
“Leaving how? Did you drive here?” she asked.
“No. And come to think of it, a cuppa would be brilliant about now. It’s bloody freezing out here,” Danny Boy said, still on his knees and casual as can be about it.
Just as Conor opened his mouth to tell him to piss off, Felicity invited him in. Danny Boy got up and grinned at Conor as he moved past him.
~
“Okay, so what were the two of you doing out there yowling like alley cats?” Felicity asked once they were inside and seated at the polished concrete kitchen island. She didn’t wait for a response but instead set about making a pot of tea.
“It so happens I was in the neighborhood, and since I needed to wrap up some business with your boyfriend I thought I’d pop round,” Danny Boy said.
“Jesus, why did you ask this idiot to come in?” Conor asked. “He’s only going to bullshit his way through things.”
Felicity looked at Danny Boy. “Is it bullshit, then?”
“No, it’s true. Well, I wasn’t exactly in the neighborhood, but—”
“See? Lies.” Conor raised his eyebrows and nodded.
“What were you doing out there on your knees?” Felicity asked.
“What? Oh, well I wasn’t offering to suck off your man, if that’s what you’re worried about!” Danny Boy laughed, amused with himself.
“Fuck’s sake,” Conor muttered.
“So? What is it you’re after, Danny Boy?” Felicity asked.
Danny Boy hesitated. “What about that cuppa?”
“You’re pushing your luck,” she replied. But she set a mug in front of him and checked on the steeping tea before pouring him some.
The three of them sat in silence as they sipped their tea.
Finally, Danny Boy looked at Felicity with plaintive eyes. “All I’m after is another chance to be on tour with the lads. I know I fucked up, all right? But I need something good to focus on. I was fucking begging him for a chance.”
“Not gonna happen,” Conor said quickly. “You stole my Tele. You were going to sell it to the highest fucking bidder. Then you come swanning in here in the dead of night as if it’s a perfectly normal—”
“Okay, I’ll do it,” Danny Boy said.
Conor sighed. “Do what?”
“I’ll suck your cock if that’ll make it all better,” he replied. He held a straight face for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.
“Do I have to call Shay to come get you? Is that how I get you the fuck out of my house?”
“Hang on,” Felicity said.
Conor looked at her in surprise. “Hang on? You’re joking.”
Danny Boy looked at each of them in turn, adopting a hopeful expression as if he was a child watching his parents quarrel over something arbitrary like what the proper bedtime should be.
“I just think you two should sort this,” Felicity said.
“Sort it? Sort what? There’s nothing more to say.”
“Ah, aren’t you a hard man,” Danny Boy said with a glint in his eye.
“You’re not doing yourself any favors,” Felicity told him. She turned back to Conor. “Come here for a second.” She took his hand and pulled him away from the kitchen and toward the living room.
“What is it you think you’re doing?” he asked. “If you’re not on my side—which you sure as fuck should be—then you should be on the band’s side. There’s no good that can come from this.”
“Conor, can’t you see how desperate he is?”
“He’s a fucking con artist, isn’t he? That’s what addicts are. And I’m done being conned.”
“I’m just saying, what is the real harm in giving him one more chance? For Shay’s sake, if nothing else.”
“He’s the reason Shay’s so unhappy anyway. That bastard scared Jessica away and Shay’s got no one now.”
“We don’t know that. You never really know what goes on between two people,” she said and the subtext was not lost on him. “Anyway, Shay wants him to stay on. He’s worried turning him away means sending him straight back to the smack.”
Conor eyed her for a long minute. “You talked to Shay about all this, then?”
“We’re just trying to find a way forward that gives Danny Boy a shot at keeping his sobriety.”
“I see. So if I don’t agree to this, I’m the arsehole putting a needle in his arm, is that it?”
She started to reply but then stopped, at a loss.
He resented the way she was pushing him out of his comfort zone. Why wasn’t his veto of having Danny Boy back enough? Why was it his responsibility to keep this junkie away from drugs? Shouldn’t she be working on Danny Boy’s other fuckup instead of guilting him into doing something he didn’t want to do?
“How’s that NME article, by the way?” he asked, goading her. “You fix that?”
“I did, actually. It’s gone away. They won’t be running anything about it.”
That wasn't the answer he was expecting. “Really? How’d you do that?”
“I traded them something that would get them a much higher click-rate on the net and better sales from the racks.”
“That being what?”
“Gav and Sophie agreed to let them have a photo of them with the baby and some inside details on the birth. It’s a win-win. We get to ditch the stolen guitar story in favor of a fluff piece on the couple the world loves and they get huge sales.”
Conor nodded. Felicity was good at what she did. But that didn’t make this situation any better. He didn’t trust Danny Boy as far as he could throw him. He glanced over and saw Danny Boy resting his head over his folded arms on the countertop of the kitchen island, out cold.
“Why don’t you call your pal Shay and get him over here to collect his brother? I’ll think about giving him another chance. That’s all I can do.”
With that, he turned and went to the stairs, climbing them two at a time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Shay wasn’t entirely surprised to get a call waking him at seven in the morning. Nor was he shocked to find that it was coming from Felicity to say that Danny Boy was over at her place. He got the rundown on how his brother had shown up there before dawn to beg Conor for another chance and then passed out in their kitchen. Felicity had wanted to wait until a decent hour to contact him but finally thought she’d better let him know not to worry for his brother.
“That’s kind of you, but you could have called as soon as he turned up. I’d have
been there in a flash,” Shay said as he sat up in bed.
“He’s still sleeping. I got him to the sofa, so no need to rush.”
“And Conor? How angry is he?”
“Well, he doesn’t know Danny Boy’s still here. But in any case, he’s not yet sold on keeping him on.”
“It was a long shot, anyway,” Shay said. He rubbed his eyes and ran his hand over his hair roughly. “Thanks for trying, Felicity. Hope that doesn’t put you in a bad spot with your man.”
“No worse than it already was,” she said with a laugh.
He didn’t know what to say to that. Conor being with Felicity had seemed to finally be the right pairing. Shay had watched Conor pursue surface-level relationships with beautiful women for years, while at the same time noticing how enamored he was with Sophie. He hadn’t ever thought that infatuation would lead anywhere, what with Sophie and Gavin being so tied up in each other. But then Conor and Sophie had turned to each other, and in doing so almost broke everything apart. As things began to get back on track, Conor reverted to his old tendencies and ended up engaged to his ex-girlfriend. Shay saw that for what it was, a disaster waiting to happen. Especially when Felicity returned home to Dublin and she and Conor fell into a friendship that had the makings of more right from the start. Conor and Felicity officially got together around the same time as his and Jessica’s relationship was faltering. But was Felicity admitting her relationship with Conor was fraying now as well?
“So, come when you’re able,” Felicity said.
“I’ll see you in twenty minutes. Thanks again.”
~
Instead of getting up, Shay fell back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling. He’d tossed and turned until three in the morning, and was now running on little sleep for the second day in a row.
They had four days until they were due in France to prep for headlining the Main Square Festival. That meant he had four days to get Danny Boy back on tour with them. Doing so seemed more imperative than ever after this latest stunt of his brother showing up at Conor’s house. Just as with stealing the guitar, this seemed to be another indicator that Danny Boy’s reckless acting out was only going to escalate.
This last stretch of clean living had been one of Danny Boy’s longest. Shay knew that his being focused on the tour had just about everything to do with that. It had been good having him around. They rarely talked about serious matters, but just spending time together felt healing and reminiscent of their youth. Back then Danny Boy was the responsible one who took on the burden of caring for Shay. They had been a team, finding stability with each other and shutting out the parents that had all too often treated them as afterthoughts.
To say it was a betrayal when Danny Boy disregarded all that to lose himself in drugs was an understatement. Always a shy child, Shay retreated into his inner life more than ever. His parents had long treated him as if he was invisible, and without Danny Boy’s caretaking, he began to believe he really was. Listening to music with headphones became a private pleasure and a constant as he watched the world around him, confident no one saw him.
Only, Gavin always saw him. Gavin always insisted he be a part of his group of friends. That inclusion meant everything, even if he wasn’t capable of engaging in the same way in return. Just having others around who accepted his quiet presence kept him afloat.
Though Danny Boy had become a sporadic presence in his life after turning to heroin, he was always a welcome sight upon his return. Shay would completely buy into his farfetched stories of where he had been, the adventures he had experienced. He wanted so badly to believe Danny Boy, to imagine he was getting away to something better, even as he knew in the back of his mind that they were all lies. He’d rather believe the fantasy than face the truth. It was a game they both played for far too long. It wasn’t until Rogue had made its first album and started traveling the world that Shay questioned Danny Boy’s outlandish tales. That’s when his brother began staying away for longer periods. Their lives were headed in different directions and there was no way to keep up the charade. Nor was there the need. By that time, Shay had solidified his connections with Gavin, Conor, and Martin. He had a new family that wasn’t going anywhere.
Shay realized with some guilt that Danny Boy’s absences over the years had suited him, allowing him the freedom to create his own life. Sure, he worried about him and would drop everything to bail him out when needed, but for the most part, he got to do what he wanted. All that changed when Danny Boy returned and actually stuck around. These last six months upended Shay’s life—first, with Jessica, and now with the band.
It hadn’t been fair to ask Jessica to allow Danny Boy’s chaos into their home, to prioritize him over her, but Shay hadn’t thought he had a choice. He hadn’t known how to navigated to complications of the situation, so when she objected, he let her walk away.
And now Danny Boy was driving a wedge between him and the band. While Gavin and Martin seemed to have patience, Conor would soon reach the end of his. Shay wondered if Danny Boy was targeting Conor with his escapades—stealing the guitar and showing up at his house—for a reason. Maybe he knew Conor was the one who would have the strongest reaction to this nonsense. Maybe he was trying to jeopardize Shay’s position in the band, just so he could bring him down with him. Danny Boy had made a habit of trying to get Shay to do drugs with him. He hadn’t been the type of older brother to shield him from such things, but except for one instance, Shay had never been tempted to join him.
All these thoughts only made Shay more tired, though, and he almost drifted off to sleep. The sensation of falling woke him with a start and he sprang out of bed. He couldn’t rest when he had his brother to deal with.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Slipping into bed, Felicity wrapped her arm around Conor’s waist and pressed her face into his naked back. He didn’t stir but his breathing changed and she knew he was awake. They laid there together in silence and though they were physically as close as they could be, she felt the distance between them again.
Becoming Conor Quinn’s girlfriend had been an unexpected turn of events. They had been intimate friends in school, but she’d moved to Toronto for university and had little contact with him for the dozen years that followed. In that time, she’d fallen madly in love with the man who would be her husband. She and Richard made a life for themselves, focusing on their careers and delaying family. Once they tried to get pregnant, the faults of their relationship were exposed. When Richard left her upon finding out she was unable to have children, she realized she had slowly lost herself in that relationship, that her true spirit had been diminished. It was a common story, really, of a woman deferring her own wants and needs to that of her partner. And she would have likely fallen further into that role had he not abruptly ended things.
It was at about the same time her marriage ended that her mother fell ill. A lifetime of smoking had caught up with her in the form of lung cancer. So, Felicity decided a move home to Dublin was in order. She took care of her mother’s hospice and eventual passing while also becoming closer to her old friend Conor. She found him to be charming and frustrating and immature. And sexy. They were irresistibly drawn to each other until they finally decided to really make a go of a relationship.
They had had six weeks of uninterrupted time together, during which she moved into his home on a temporary basis when her mother’s house sold and she had nowhere else to go. That stay ended up becoming permanent without any meaningful discussion. Then Rogue’s world tour began, and she got to experience the scale and madness of it, including the ruthless groupies and other random women who threw themselves at her boyfriend. He was accustomed to the attention that women—and plenty of men—bestowed upon him and didn’t seem to realize how jarring it would be for her.
He was as attentive with her as he could be given the amount of time they spent apart. But when he returned for this break in the tour, he seemed preoccupied and other than their reunion sex, th
ey didn’t have the same easiness with each other. She couldn’t pinpoint what was coming between them. It could be that he’d slept with other women on the tour, continuing his years’ long bachelor ways. Or it could be that his distracted demeanor meant he thought their quick commitment had been a mistake.
It very likely could have been a mistake. She knew going in that Conor was ill-equipped to put in the work that a real relationship required. He had spent too many years in love with someone he couldn’t have, happy to satisfy his other needs with surface-level flings. He didn’t have the relationship experience or tools to rely on when something wasn’t quite right. That meant she had to be the one to lead him through how it was done.
But at this moment, with the heat of his body warming her, she wasn’t sure she wanted to push the issue, especially if it meant finding out that they had run their course. He wasn’t anything she had thought she wanted. He was immature and cocky and stubborn, with a career that sent him all over the world. She had always thought stability was the most important thing in a partner, but she had dropped that requirement when she fell for him. The truth was, despite his faults and her reservations, he made her ridiculously happy. She didn’t want to lose him.
She sighed and tightened her grip around his waist. Just as she was drifting off, she felt him take her hand and bring it up to his lips. He kissed her fingertips, then her palm, then the inside of her wrist. His touches were always deliberate, designed to stimulate a reaction from her, rather than just get him off. Knowing this was just the start, she smiled and relaxed, eager to get lost in this distraction rather than focus on confronting their issues. It was the kind of thing she usually rejected from him, but the promise of what he would do to her was too tempting to resist.
Throwing her leg over his hip, she pressed even closer to him. He still had his back to her and she inhaled his scent. She hadn’t been able to sort out his technique, but he somehow always had just a hint of the most delicious cologne on his skin. It was light enough and enticing enough to make you want to lean into him to get the full effect.
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