Page 54

now that i found her

KIERAN

“ A nd that’s when Theo tried to bribe a customs officer with a signed drumstick and a bag of Haribo.”

Laughter explodes across the room. Ryder nearly chokes on his coffee. Theo raises his hands like he’s accepting an award, and Luca just shakes his head like he’s aged ten years in that single memory.

“I maintain that he appreciated the gesture,” Theo says. “He just didn’t understand my vision.”

“You tried to pay off a border agent,” Luca says flatly, “with sweets , Theo.”

“It was Haribo Tangfastics, mate. I was offering him the good stuff.”

We’re midway through recording an episode of Off the Record with Max and Jules, a behind-the-scenes music industry podcast we somehow agreed to appear on.

Their living room’s resembling a makeshift studio.

Mics, wires, pop shields, and those oversized noise-cancelling headphones that make you feel like you’re hearing your own thoughts in surround sound.

Max grins behind his mic. “Honestly, this is already my favourite episode. You guys are chaos.”

“Controlled chaos,” Ryder says proudly, adjusting his mic like he actually knows what he’s doing. “We’re very professional now. We even have matching mugs.”

“Only because I stole them from the last green room,” Theo adds with a shrug.

Jules leans forward with a smirk. “Serious question. You’ve just wrapped your first successful UK tour and taken a step back from the madness. What made you settle in South Havens?”

Luca jumps in first, like he always does. “We needed a break. A proper one. Not three days off where we’re still answering emails from a ferry.”

“Also,” Ryder says, “I was one parking ticket away from snapping and throwing myself into the sea.”

I chuckle, but my fingers tap lightly on the arm of my chair. “We just wanted something that felt real again. Less noise. More space to think. Write. Live.”

“New music coming?” Jules asks, her notebook half-forgotten in her lap.

“We’re not putting pressure on it,” Luca says. “Back in the studio in the new year. We’ll see where the vibe takes us.”

“And until then?” Max raises a brow.

“We breathe,” Theo says, for once not joking. “Get our heads straight. Spend time where it matters.”

There’s a pause, a beat of quiet as the room settles around that sentiment. I feel all three of them glance my way, not overt, but unmistakable. I give the smallest shrug, a smile tugging at the edge of my mouth.

“Alright,” Max says, clapping his hands together. “Last question. The big one. We ask every guest.”

Jules leans in dramatically. “What’s your current personal soundtrack? The song that sums up where you are right now.”

Theo groans. “Every bloody time.”

“Come on, Kieran,” Luca says, sly smile firmly in place. “You go first.”

I pause, thinking about lying. About saying something upbeat or cryptic or clever. But the truth catches in my throat, too big to swallow. “ Now That I Found Her .” I say quietly.

Max hums in approval. “Oof. That’s deep.”

“Yeah,” I murmur.

The room falls silent for a moment. Not awkward, just full. Heavy with things that don’t need to be said aloud.

And then Ryder, blessedly, dives in with something ridiculous about his current obsession with vintage disco ballads, and the moment passes, laughter filling the air again like we hadn’t all just felt the shift.

After we wrap up, pose for the obligatory group photo, and sign the wall in the hallway like some rite of passage, we spill out into the crisp evening air. The city buzzes around us. Horns, voices, the faint thump of a baseline leaking from an open window somewhere up the street.

For a second, I just stand there. Let it sink in. The tour. The move. The plans we’d casually talked about in that living room like they weren’t a dream anymore. It feels good. Real. Like something solid underfoot.

Then my phone buzzes. I tug it from my pocket, thumb already halfway to unlock it.

Ells [16:44]

Hey. Something happened.

Three words.

But they hit like a sucker punch. My stomach drops. My chest goes tight. The street noise fades under the thrum of blood in my ears.

I stop walking.

“Kieran?” Luca calls from a few steps ahead. I don’t answer. Just stare at the screen.

“Everything alright?” Ryder asks, doubling back when he catches the look on my face. I nod slowly, even though nothing about me feels steady. “I don’t know yet.”

I’m already dialling. The phone rings once. Twice.

“Hey,” Ellie answers, her voice soft. Rough around the edges, like she hasn’t slept. Like she’s holding something in with both hands and it’s still threatening to spill.

“What happened?” I ask, sharper than I mean to. “Ellie, are you okay?”

A pause. A breath. I can hear something in the background, Mia’s voice maybe, or the clink of a glass? But mostly it’s the silence between her words.

“It’s nothing, really,” she says too quickly. “Just… a terrible night.”

My jaw tenses. “Ellie.”

“I promise, I’m fine,” she says again, gentler this time. “But… would it be okay if I came to see you?”

I don’t hesitate. “Yeah. Of course. You want me to come get you?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll come to you.”

Another beat. A crackle of unspoken things. “Okay,” I say, lowering my voice. “I’ll be here.”

The line goes quiet a moment later, but the weight of her voice stays with me. Heavy. Fragile. Like she’s finally run out of ways to pretend.

I look up at the sky—the buildings, the unfamiliar streets I’ve only just started calling home—then I turn toward the apartment, already moving.

Whatever this is, it isn’t nothing. And I’ll be damned if I let her convince herself it is.

When I get back, I can’t rest.

The apartment is too quiet. Too still. Which is saying something, considering Ryder’s installed a blinking neon sign over the coffee machine that reads CAFFEINATE OR DIE , and Theo’s beanbag still occupies a corner of the living room like some sort of lounge gremlin shrine.

I texted Luca five minutes after Ellie had hung up.

Need the place to myself for a bit.

Luca [17:04]

Say no more.

He always knows when not to ask questions.

Now, I’m pacing. Back and forth across the living room, my boots dragging just slightly over the rug, carving an invisible path like I can somehow walk the anxiety out of my chest. I keep glancing at the clock, even though barely five minutes have passed.

The late evening light spills through the windows, turning everything a little washed-out, a little faded. Dust floats in the beams of sunset. The corners of the apartment feel stretched, like the space itself is holding its breath.

I’ve tidied without thinking. Folded the blanket on the sofa. Moved Theo’s shoes out of the hallway. Lit the vanilla candle on the coffee table.

I don’t know what she’ll need tonight.

But I want her to feel safe. I want her to walk in and feel like she can breathe.

I drag a hand through my hair for what feels like the hundredth time and cross to the window again, checking the street even though I know she’ll be buzzing from downstairs, not strolling up like a scene from some old movie.

My hands are clammy. My heart hammers against my ribs, each beat sharp and restless. I don’t know exactly what I expected from the phone call. Maybe for her to tell me it was work. A flat tire. A bad day at school pickup. Something manageable. Something small.

But it wasn’t the words she said. It was how she said them. Low. Measured. Like someone trying not to set off an alarm inside their own chest.

You don’t send a message like Hey. Something happened and then brush it off unless you're carrying something too big to name.

And the fact that she wants to come here, to me, tells me everything I need to know.

Whatever it is... she doesn’t want to be alone with it.

The buzzer rings. It cuts through the apartment like a blade, slicing straight through the fog in my head.

I freeze for half a second. My hand half-raised. My breath locked somewhere between my lungs and my throat. Then I move. Cross the room in four long strides and press the intercom.

“Ellie?” I say, trying to keep my voice even.

A pause. Then: “Yeah.”

I hit the door release, the buzz filling the stillness, and step back. I leave the front door open just enough to lean there and wait.

The hallway is quiet. The hum of the lift climbing floor by floor buzzes in the distance. A soft mechanical sigh as it slows.

Then the doors open. And there she is.

She steps out like she’s not entirely sure she belongs in her own body. That damn cardigan wrapped around her like a blanket, sleeves pulled over her hands, head bowed like she’s bracing against a wind that hasn’t quite arrived yet.

Her eyes shift, and something catches in them, like a thread pulled loose. The tight line of her shoulders falters. A breath leaves her, soft and unguarded, and in that moment, I see it. The weight she’s been carrying. The way she sags with the quiet recognition of me.

“Hey, you.” I say softly.

“Hey,” she echoes, barely more than a breath.

She exhales slowly, like she’s been holding her breath the whole way over. I step back and open the door wider without a word. She brushes past me, close enough that her sleeve catches my arm. Just the smallest touch, and yet I feel it everywhere.

She pauses just inside the hallway. Like she isn’t sure if the walls will welcome her or trap her.

Her shoulders dip slightly. A breath, not a release.

“You want a drink?” I ask, already halfway toward the kitchen because standing still feels unbearable.

She shakes her head. “No. I just… I just want to sit, if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” I say, motioning toward the sofa.

She crosses the room slowly, every movement cautious, and curls into the cushions like she’s trying to make herself small. Cardigan sleeves pulled farther over her hands. Knees tucked up. Her gaze fixed somewhere I can’t follow.

I sit beside her. Not too close. Close enough.

I don’t touch her. I don’t fill the silence with words. I just stay steady, an anchor if she needs one.