Page 49 of Seven Lost Summers (Broken Oasis #3)

There it is.

That fucking nickname. The one that digs in and drags the past up with it. I can almost hear the echo of him saying it years ago, with that crooked grin, some cocky line tossed in just to make me roll my eyes. It lands harder than I want it to, but I shove it down, keep my face neutral.

“Yeah. Xander’s easy. He’s stupidly photogenic. Ace doesn’t even try and still manages to look good. Theo…” My gaze drifts over to him without meaning to. “Theo’s a challenge. You don’t stay still.”

Theo grins into his mug, unbothered. “I’m not built to sit still.”

“How long does it take to get an album out?” I ask after a beat. “From start to finish.”

Nate exhales through his nose, thinking it over. “Once we’ve got a few solid tracks, we spend a day on each one. Recording it piece by piece. Layering. Ace gets picky as hell with the riffs, so we end up redoing parts until he’s satisfied.”

Theo smirks and leans back in his chair. “Ace gets picky with everything. The man once threw out an entire pizza because the pepperoni wasn’t evenly spaced.”

The laugh escapes me before I can catch it.

“That actually fucking happened.” Nate mutters into his mug, shaking his head. “We should start recording in a few days.” He glances at me. “We’ve got three songs down now. So in the next day or two you’ll see how it’s done.”

Nate tips back the last of his coffee, the quiet clink of the mug on the table breaking the stillness.

He stands and stretches, a lazy roll of his shoulders, joints cracking faintly in the morning hush.

As he steps behind my chair, his hand rests on my shoulder before his lips press gently to the top of my head.

It’s a soft fleeting moment, but it’s enough to leave a weight behind.

When he slips inside, the screen door clicks shut with a hollow sound, and the quiet it leaves behind swells like its alive.

Theo doesn’t move at first. He remains there, fingers curled around his mug, watching the faint curls of steam rise and vanish into the pale morning light.

When his eyes meet mine, I’m not ready for it. The smile that touches his mouth isn’t the sharp, crooked smirk I know too well. It’s softer. Something private.

“What?” The word comes out thin, almost broken, and I clear my throat too late to cover it.

His smile shifts, sharpening just enough to remind me who I’m looking at. “Do you remember that time you and Bianca tried to cook pancakes and almost burned the house down?”

The memory hits me so fast it steals my breath. A laugh rips free before I can stop it, spilling out of my chest.

“Yeah,” I manage between breaths. “We left the paper towel too close to the burner. The damn thing went up in flames. Wes came running in, grabbed the fire extinguisher, and—” I can see it now, the burst of white foam, the smoke curling up past the cabinets.

“He didn’t even yell. He told us to be more careful, then walked out and left us covered in ash while we laughed until our stomachs hurt. ”

The smile that spreads across Theo’s face is small but real, and his eyes stay fixed on me.

Watching. There’s no teasing in them, no wall of sarcasm or that usual edge.

Only that steady, piercing gaze that’s always been able to cut right through the weight I carry.

The one that makes me feel seen when no one else could.

The mug in his hand lowers to the table without a sound.

He leans back in his chair, shoulders easing, but his eyes never leave mine.

The morning light brushes against the side of his face, catching in the darker strands of his hair and tracing the edges of him in soft gold.

For a second, he doesn’t seem like the boy who’s been fighting his own head for years.

He doesn’t appear to be the friend who’s been breaking in front of me piece by piece.

“You always did laugh with her the hardest,” he whispers.

My throat closes around the words I want to say.

That it wasn’t only her, it’s him too. That he’s the only one who’s ever been able to pull a real laugh out of me when the world seemed too fucking heavy.

But the words don’t come. They stick there, and all I can do is hold his gaze and hope he sees it anyway.

“Yeah,” I finally whisper.

His lips twitch as if he wants to say something else, but instead he just sits there.

Scarlet spots me before I even have a chance to breathe.

One second I’m stepping into the living room of Ace’s home, the next there’s a blur of blonde hair and fast feet cutting across the space.

“Holy shit. Quinn Thomas.” And suddenly she’s on me, arms wrapping tight, laughter breaking midway into something shaky. “You’re really here.”

I barely manage to suck in a breath before she pulls back enough to grab my shoulders and give me a once-over. Her blue eyes are bright, the happiness practically buzzing out of her.

“Hey, Scar,” I manage.

Scarlet grins wide, her eyes lighting up. “You have no idea how much I used to beg these two idiots back in the day to bring you around more. Those were the best days.”

Behind her, Nate makes a sound, almost too dramatic.

“Please, Scar. You were too wrapped up in yourself to even notice who was around.”

“Oh please, Nate." Scarlet spins fast, shooting him a glare. "If it was just you and Theo, I would’ve died of boredom in a week.”

Nate smirks.

“Yeah… Funny, you seemed pretty damn entertained when I was coaching you in those drum battles.”

Scarlet rolls her eyes.

“Entertained? No. I was too busy trying to ignore the sound of your offbeat chaos. You hit hard, sure, but your timing was a fucking disaster until I stepped in and fixed it.”

“She’s not wrong.” Theo chuckles, clearly enjoying the exchange.

“Traitor,” Nate fires back, but his grin widens, that familiar spark in his eyes.

I can’t help but smile, seeing that the three of them haven’t changed one bit, despite all the fame they’ve gained.

My eyes track Ace as he steps forward. I catch a grin tugging at his mouth. It’s small, but it’s there, softening the usual hard edges.

Scarlet slips her arm through mine as she leans in close.

“Don’t tell these two, but you were the only reason I put up with their bullshit half the time.”

Theo’s voice cuts in. “We heard that.”

Scarlet’s lips curve into a sweet, innocent smile as she fires back, “Good.”

The sound of footsteps carries in from the hall. A second later, Xander and a small pink-haired woman step into the room.

The woman moves forward first, her steps steady, eyes scanning the room before they land on me. For a heartbeat, I can’t move. She’s composed. Her gaze dips to the camera in my hand, then back to my face, and a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

“Quinn,” she says, extending her hand.

My fingers hesitate before they meet hers. Her grip is firm. She holds my hand a second longer than necessary.

“It’s good to finally put a face to the photos,” she says.

“Yeah,” I manage, my voice thinner than I want. “You too, Kit.”

Ace moves forward, slipping his hands into his pockets. “We should really get started.”

“What the fuck, already?” Theo groans.

Ace glances at Theo completely unbothered. “Yes. You can breathe when the album’s finished.”

Theo lets his head roll back with an exaggerated sigh. “Scar, remind me again, what the fuck do you see in him?”

Scarlet grins. “Forearms, and the fact he doesn’t make me want to staple my ears shut when he talks.”

Ace’s mouth curves. “And the fact I don’t sound like a rejected cartoon character going through puberty every time I speak.”

Theo puts a hand to his chest, mock offended. “Wow. Did it take you all night to come up with that, or did you phone a friend?”

“Nah,” Ace says. “That one’s been sitting in the vault for a while.”

Xander is the first to move down the hall. “Every time you two talk, I lose brain cells. Studio’s waiting.”

Theo calls after him. “Aw, come on, pretty boy. Don’t pout because the spotlight’s not on you for once.”

Ace smirks, eyes still on Xander. “Pretty boy had girls lining up in high school just to watch him walk to class.”

Theo lets out a laugh that bounces off the walls.

Xander doesn’t even turn around. “You two done giving each other hand jobs, or do I need to come back with a towel?”

Nate groans. “Jesus Christ. Can we go five minutes without needing therapy?”

Then the door swings open and they step through. The room falls quiet.

Kit lets out a breath and drops her folder onto the table with a soft thud. “You know, managing those four is like running a daycare... if the toddlers had tattoos and unresolved trauma.”

Scarlet laughs. “But you love them.”

Kit lifts a brow. “Unfortunately.” She raises her hand and starts counting them off one finger at a time.

“Xander says two words and suddenly thinks he’s carried the entire conversation.

Last week, he didn’t talk to anyone for an hour because someone moved his water bottle and messed with his flow. ”

Scarlet snorts.

“Ace communicates in grunts, head nods, one word texts and that one eyebrow twitch that means either ‘I agree’ or ‘I hope you fall down a flight of stairs.’ Still somehow knows everyone’s schedule better than I do.“

Scarlet’s already shaking with laughter.

Kit moves on, lifting another finger. “Theo’s like a drunk squirrel with a Wi-Fi connection. Always moving, always talking, always one bad idea away from a lawsuit. I once caught him googling how to stage dive off a vending machine.”

Scarlet wheezes. “That sounds like Theo.”

A grin pulls at my mouth before I can stop it.

Kit moves to the last finger. “And Nate. The quiet one. Golden boy. Voice of reason. Steady as hell... until he isn’t.

Still uses his drumsticks to stir his coffee.

Once ordered three pizzas during a live radio interview because he and Theo forgot to eat breakfast and thought they might collapse mid-question. ”

Scarlet’s crying now, doubled over with her face in her hands.

A laugh slips out of me.