Page 50

four rooms and a bean bag

KIERAN

I sit at the kitchen island, hunched over a lukewarm cup of coffee I’ve already reheated once but haven’t drunk.

The silence presses in from all sides. No laughter spilling in from the barn, no thud of Mia’s boots stomping across the floor, no clatter of mismatched mugs or late-night toast runs.

Just the soft ticking of the kitchen clock and the distant hum of the wind brushing through the trees outside.

The seat across from me is empty. The one Ellie claimed every morning this week, hair still damp from the shower, curled into a hoodie she borrowed and never gave back.

It’s stupid, but I keep glancing toward the hallway. Like she’ll come padding in barefoot, stealing toast off my plate.

She’s gone.

I don’t even notice Dad enter the room until he slides a fresh mug across the counter toward me. The scent of proper coffee cutting through the fog in my brain.

“You look like a man whose soul just left in a hatchback,” he says, settling onto the stool opposite mine with a grunt.

A quiet laugh escapes me. “Something like that.”

He doesn’t push. Just takes a slow sip of his coffee and leans back, like he’s got all the time in the world.

“She’s going through a lot, Dad,” I murmur, running my thumb along the rim of my mug. “But I just, I don’t know, I want to be there. Not from a distance. Not as some guy she used to know.”

Dad nods, eyes steady on mine. “You always were rubbish at watching from the sidelines.”

That earns a ghost of a smile. “Did I ever tell you how we met?”

“At the hospital, wasn’t it?”

I shake my head. “That was the second time. First was Sound Busters. Four years ago. Remember when we played that small set? I saw her. Sounds insane, but I felt it. Like I already knew her. And then...” I trail off. “She was gone.”

Dad lets out a long breath. “So that’s what had you moping around like a sodden puppy for months.”

I blink. “You noticed that?”

“Son, you walked around like someone had unplugged your soul. Ryder thought you were dying. I figured it was girl trouble. Didn’t think it was that deep.”

I grip the mug tighter. “I didn’t even get her last name. No number. Nothing. It was like she never existed. Until I saw her again.”

He studies me, then leans forward, forearms braced on the counter. “Fate’s a stubborn bastard, Kieran. Doesn’t care about timing or clean breaks. When something’s meant to come back around, it does. Might take four years and a hurricane of drama, but it always finds its way.”

The words land heavy in my chest. “You believe that?” I ask.

He doesn’t hesitate. “I believe in you. And I believe that if someone keeps showing up in your life, after all this time and through all this chaos, you don’t wait for the stars to line up. You make your own damn constellation.”

It hits deeper than I expect. I crack a small grin. “That’s poetic.”

“Write it into a song and make me rich.”

“Deal.” I pause. “So what now?”

“That’s your call, son. But I’ll say this. Don’t sit still. You’ve done the waiting. If she needs space, give her that. But if this is something real? Be where she is. Show up.”

I rake a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. “I’ve been thinking about getting a place in South Havens. The boys are up for it too. Change of scenery might do us all good. Somewhere to settle when we’re not on the road.”

Pride flickers behind Dad’s smile. “You’ve been chasing something for years, son. Maybe now’s the time to start building something instead.”

His words stay with me long after the coffee’s gone cold.

After he heads out to feed the horses, I stay sat here, nursing the silence.

Then I pull out my phone, thumb hovering, before tapping the rental app I’ve been stalking—South Havens already in the search bar.

I scroll until something catches my eye. Clean lines, tall windows, modern. Big enough for the boys. Space to breathe.

I don’t overthink it. I just hit schedule viewing and text Luca.

Found a place in South Havens. Viewing this afternoon. If we leave now we can make it.

Luca [10:17]

You serious?

Deadly. Don’t make me go alone or I’ll accidentally rent a shoebox with bad lighting.

Luca [10:18]

FFS Give me twenty and a bacon roll.

I smile. He’s been staying at the inn in town since the barbecue, but he’s the best option for this. Luca’s got an annoyingly sharp eye for detail, and I trust his judgement. Even if he pretends not to care.

I’m already moving, something in my chest loosening, like momentum clicking into place.

South Havens is as beautiful as I remember.

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows over the pavements, turning shop windows into gold-tinted mirrors. There's a cool bite in the air. The kind that sneaks in under your collar, not sharp enough to sting yet, just enough to make you wish you’d grabbed an extra layer.

The streets are busy. School kids, couples wrapped up in coats with takeaway cups steaming between their hands, everyone going about their day. Life here thrums low and steady, a different rhythm to the one I’m used to.

Luca and I round the corner toward the apartment, both of us stretched thin from the drive. Traffic hit just as we rolled into the city. One wrong turn and a shouting match with the sat-nav later, and we barely made it on time.

“Next time, I drive,” Luca mutters, finishing the last of his lukewarm petrol station coffee.

“Next time, just let me handle the roundabouts without screaming,” I shoot back, shouldering open the gate to the building.

“I shouted once.”

“It echoed, Luca. Birds scattered.”

He glares at me, but there's a smirk tugging at his mouth as we approach the building. Clean brick, curved glass balconies, tasteful black awnings. “Alright,” he says, adjusting his jacket. “Let’s see if this overpriced hole is as tolerable as it looked online.”

“Optimism,” I deadpan. “So rare. So fragile.”

I press the buzzer and step back, hands jammed in my jacket pockets. A second later, a voice crackles through the intercom—female, upbeat, estate agent-y. “Come on up, I’ll buzz you in.”

The door unlocks with a clunk, and Luca pushes it open, raising an eyebrow at me.

The lobby’s sleek and sterile, all pale wood and polished tiles, smells like eucalyptus and fresh paint.

We take the lift to the top floor, and when the doors slide open, the estate agent’s already waiting—clipboard in hand, blazer sharp.

“Kieran, Luca? I’m Beth. Feel free to have a proper look around—I’ll hang back out here, give you space to take it all in.”

Luca flashes her a grin. “Cheers, Beth.”

She nods, stepping aside as the apartment door clicks open.

We both pause.

“Shit,” Luca breathes, stepping inside.

It’s massive. Two floors. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Cool-toned woods and matte black accents. A floating glass staircase cuts a clean line up one wall. Polished concrete floors softened by oversized rugs.

The kitchen is sleek and minimal. Built-in espresso machine, double oven, a wide island lined with bar stools.

“It’s like a bloody Airbnb for grown-ups,” Luca says, wandering deeper in.

I trail after him, moving toward the living room.

The light here hits differently. Soft and golden as it filters across the L-shaped sofa and low coffee table. There’s a wall-mounted speaker system, plenty of space to host a writing session, and tucked somewhere just beyond the buildings—the ocean.

I could see us here. All of us.

Theo sprawled across the sofa in the sun. Ryder turning the balcony into a jungle of questionable plants. Luca setting up a vinyl station and threatening anyone who touched it with greasy fingers.

And me.

Writing songs. Brewing a decent cup of coffee. Waiting for something that doesn’t feel impossible anymore.

“You’re actually serious about this.” Luca says, stepping out onto the balcony. But it's more of a statement than anything else.

I follow him, leaning my shoulder against the doorframe, letting the cool air graze my skin. The street below buzzes with late afternoon life. Kids weaving between parked cars, someone dragging a stubborn spaniel on a lead, the salty tang of the ocean curling up over the rooftops.

“Yeah. It’s big enough for all of us,” I say, shrugging. “And it’s quiet.”

Luca gives me a look that’s part amusement, part something sharper. Like he’s seeing more than I’m saying. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain nurse and her kid, would it?”

I roll my eyes, but there’s no heat behind it.

Just honesty. “I want to be closer, yeah,” I admit.

“Not to crowd her. Not to... force anything. I just…” I break off, dragging a hand through my hair.

“I don’t know. After everything she’s been through…

” I exhale, the weight of it curling tight in my chest. “I don’t want to be four hours away if she needs me. ”

Luca sips his coffee, his gaze steady on the horizon. He doesn’t rush me. Just waits, patient like he always is when it matters.

“I’m not expecting anything,” I add quietly.

“Not some fairytale ending. Not for her to magically be ready. Christ, I don’t even know if she’ll want me around once she really starts putting her life back together.

” I let out a humourless laugh. “But I’d rather be here, close enough to show up, than sit on my arse at home wondering if she’s alright.

Even if all I ever get to be is a friend standing in her corner. ”

Luca snorts into his coffee. “Yeah, alright. And I’m the King of bloody England.”

I shoot him a look. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Mate, you’re about as subtle as a freight train. Friends don’t look at each other the way you two do. Not unless they’re very confused or very in denial.”

I groan, tipping my head back against the doorframe. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s exactly like that.” Luca grins. “I mean, fuck, you practically imprint on her like a baby duck every time she walks into a room.”