Page 28 of Seven Lost Summers (Broken Oasis #3)

We both glance over when Poppy steps to the edge of the pool, one hand on her growing belly, the other shoving her wild hair from her face. She’s glowing. Pregnancy suits her, even if she still gives Xander shit for treating her like she’s made of glass.

He told me the other day how much he fucking loves seeing her pregnant. How it wrecks him in the best way, watching her body change, knowing she’s carrying their child.

He missed it all the first time. Now he’s here for everything: every scan, every craving, every midnight freak-out. And you can see how much it means to him, finally being able to show up.

“Lunch is ready,” Poppy calls, her voice carrying across the pool.

I push off the edge, grinning up at her. “You coming for a swim, Spitfire?”

She snorts, arching a brow. “Yeah, let me squeeze in a quick cannonball.”

I smirk, arms spreading wide. “Hey, weight distribution could work in your favor. Might even give you some serious height.”

Scarlet chokes on a laugh while Poppy shoots me a look that says she’s debating if I’m worth the effort of smacking.

Ace is already lifting Alex out of the pool, the kid grinning like he’s just conquered the deep end.

Poppy’s gaze shifts to them, her expression softening the way it always does when she looks at him.

Scarlet and I push out of the water, shaking off droplets clinging to our skin.

Ace sets Alex down, ruffles his soaked hair, then drops a towel over the kid’s head, earning a muffled protest.

Together, we head for the house, wet footprints trailing across the patio behind us.

Xander and Nate are already at the table. Nate’s got a beer in hand, while Xander sits close to Poppy, watching her the way he always does, protective, calm, ready to step in if she so much as reaches for a plate.

I walk to the fridge, swing the door open, and grab three beers. Nothing for Poppy. I already know Xander’s handled it. He’s probably made sure she’s got water, juice, or whatever the hell she’s craving today. He doesn’t miss a thing.

That’s who he is now, the guy who looks after his family without being asked. The one who always seems to know what someone needs before they say a word.

There was always something missing in him.

He had the music, the fame, the wild nights and noise. Groupies lined up to fuck him, offering anything he wanted—but none of it ever settled him.

His eyes gave it away.

Restless.

Haunted.

Like he was chasing something he couldn’t name.

One night, after too many drinks and way too much weed, he spilled it all. How he fucked it up. How he left his heart back in that fucked-up town. How he should’ve stayed. Should’ve stood up to her mother.

He said it like a confession, but the truth was already carved into him.

I get it now. I get what he was missing.

It was her.

Poppy.

Spitfire.

She anchors him in this life, and not in some fairytale, perfect kind of way. She drives him crazy at times, calls him on his shit, keeps him honest. But she’s his. And he’d give the world to make her happy.

You can see it in the way he watches her when she laughs, in how he listens to every word she says, even when she’s not talking to him. He’d hand her the whole damn world just to see her smile. These days, when Xander walks into a room, there’s an ease about him, a calm I never saw before.

I kick the fridge door shut and head to the table, handing beers to Scarlet and Ace before dropping into the seat across from Nate. Alex climbs into the chair beside me, still dripping pool water, grinning like the world’s never touched him.

The room hums with easy noise.

Xander and Ace bickering over nothing while Scarlet rolls her eyes and steals food off his plate. Alex crams way too much into his mouth, as if chewing is optional.

It’s chaos.

It’s family.

Messy, loud, imperfect as fuck, but mine.

And I wouldn’t trade a second of it.

I glance around the table and catch the quiet hiding beneath the noise.

Xander leans into Poppy, murmuring something only she’ll ever hear. Scarlet and Ace are wrapped up in their own world—half teasing, half tangled in something that runs deep.

And then there’s me and Nate.

I shift my gaze to him, and he’s already watching, like he feels it too. The way we hover on the edge of this life. Close enough to touch it, never far enough inside.

Everyone else has found their people. Their peace.

And us…we’re still stuck. Still waiting on something we lost a long time ago. Something that’s never coming back.

I blink, shake it off, and drag myself out of it. The table’s still loud, still alive, and I force myself to tune back in.

Ace is elbow-deep in some rant about a new bridge he’s written. Xander’s giving him shit about the chord change, and Scarlet’s throwing in comments between bites. Alex is trying to stack grapes on top of each other, determined, like the fate of the world depends on it.

Xander finally raises his voice, just enough to cut through and get us back on track. “Kit wants to see us in the morning. Meeting’s at ten.”

“What about?” Nate asks.

Xander doesn’t answer right away. He takes a sip of his beer, eyes flicking between the few of us still half-listening.

“She wants to give the fans more,” he says finally. “Not just the music. Everything around it. The process. A glimpse inside what we’re building this time.”

Ace raises an eyebrow. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Xander shrugs. “I doubt even she knows yet. Something about documenting all of it—the writing, the recording, the lead-up to the tour.”

Ace groans. “Fuck me. Next we’ll be doing TikTok dances.” His eyes flick to Alex. “Shit. I mean… fudge me.”

Scarlet shakes her head, muttering under her breath. “Real smooth.”

I smirk. “You? Please. You’ve got the rhythm of a drunk giraffe on roller skates. We’d go viral for all the wrong reasons.”

Poppy snorts into her drink.

Scarlet laughs so hard she nearly drops her fork.

Xander grins, biting back a comment, while Ace flips me off across the table.

I take a slow sip of beer. Someone laughs. Cutlery scrapes against a plate. Ace leans back in his chair, balancing on two legs like a kid asking for trouble, while Xander murmurs something into Poppy’s ear that makes her smile without even looking at him.

No one’s in a rush. No one’s checking the time.

It’s the last calm before the storm.

Tomorrow brings early mornings, long hours, and Xander in our ears, pushing harder. Chasing something that doesn’t exist until we bleed for it. We’ll lock ourselves in that recording studio and build it piece by piece.

But not yet.

Today, the air is light, the voices steady, and for a little while we let ourselves breathe in the quiet.