Darren's visit

Mallory

AJ and I never held back when we messed around. Sure, sometimes it got physical—pillow fights, shoving, the occasional headlock—but it was always a joke, always playful. We both knew the line, and we never crossed it.

But we never did it around Da.

I didn't even have to ask why. Everyone knew my da didn't have the best childhood. His own father had been a violent man, the kind who thought respect came from the back of his hand. Ma told us once that she and Uncle Kev had been messing around as kids, just like AJ and I did, and Da had walked in and lost it—he'd actually beaten Kev up, not realizing they were only playing.

She said he never forgave himself for it.

That's why, when AJ swung a pillow at me in the sitting room, knocking me back onto the couch, I didn't think much of it—until I heard our father's voice behind us.

"The fuck are you doin'?"

His tone wasn't loud, but it was sharp enough to cut through the laughter. My stomach dropped as I turned to see Da standing in the doorway, his expression like stone, his arms crossed tight over his chest.

AJ immediately backed up, hands in the air like he'd been caught committing a crime. "Da—"

"That what we do, yeah?" Da cut him off, his voice eerily calm. "We hit our sister? That what I raised you to do?"

I jumped up from the couch, shaking my head. "Da, it was just a joke—"

"Stay out of this, Mallory." His eyes were locked on AJ, and my brother looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. "I asked you a question, son."

AJ swallowed hard, shifting on his feet. "We were just messing. I wasn't actually—"

"Don't care," Da snapped. His jaw was tight, his hands clenched at his sides like he was trying to keep himself from doing something he'd regret. "You don't put your hands on a girl, I don't care if she's your sister or not. You hear me?"

AJ nodded quickly. "I hear you."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, Da," he said again, firmer this time.

Da exhaled sharply through his nose, his fists relaxing just a fraction. He ran a hand down his face like he was shaking off a bad memory.

"Go on," he muttered, waving AJ away. "Get out of my sight."

AJ didn't have to be told twice. He shot me a quick, apologetic glance before ducking out of the room, leaving me alone with Da.

I crossed my arms. "You know he wasn't actually hurting me."

Da's shoulders tensed, but he didn't look at me. "Doesn't matter."

"It kinda does," I pressed, stepping closer. "It's not the same as—"

His sharp look silenced me. "I said it doesn't matter."

I shut my mouth. He wasn't just being overprotective—this was about more than just me or AJ.

This was about him.

I exhaled through my nose, deciding to let it go. "You know," I said instead, a little lighter, "if you're so against it, maybe you shouldn't have let me grow up with a bunch of uncles and cousins who taught me how to throw a punch."

His lips twitched, just a little. "That right?"

"Yeah. I'm basically untouchable at this point."

Da let out a small, amused huff and finally, finally relaxed. His hand landed on my head, ruffling my hair like I was still five. "That so?"

I swatted his hand away. "Obviously."

He shook his head, but I caught the fondness in his eyes before he turned away. "Go help your ma with dinner before I start regretting raising such a mouthy kid."

I grinned, knowing the worst of it had passed. "Love you too, Da."

Ma had barely set the table when we heard a car pull up outside.

AJ was already on his feet, peering out the window. He scoffed, shaking his head with a smirk. "And here I was hoping I'd get a peaceful weekend."

I rolled my eyes. "You love it when Uncle Darren visits."

He didn't respond, but the way he was already heading for the door said enough.

I followed him out, just in time to see our dad's older brother step out of the car. Darren Lynch was taller than Da, a little leaner, but he had the same sharp blue eyes, the same kind of presence that filled a room. He stretched, rolling out his shoulders, before grinning at AJ.

"Jaysus, look at you," he said, shaking his head. "Eighteen, huh? Practically an auld fella."

AJ smirked, reaching out to shake his hand, but Darren pulled him in for a quick hug instead, clapping him on the back. "How's life treatin' ya?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" AJ teased, ever the cocky bastard.

Darren raised a brow. "I would, actually. That's why I asked."

Before AJ could shoot back, the back door of the car opened, and Darren's husband, Alex, stepped out, brushing invisible lint from his blazer like he hadn't just spent four hours in a car with their two kids.

"Ah, the prodigal uncle returns," AJ quipped, smirking as he turned to Alex. "And the poor fella who has to put up with him."

Alex smiled easily, shaking his head. "Trust me, you don't get to complain."

Then came the real chaos—Jamie and Evie, their kids, five and seven, tumbling out of the car like a pair of hyperactive puppies.

"Mallory!" Jamie shouted, making a beeline for me.

I barely had time to brace myself before he barrelled into my legs. "Jamie, Jesus, I nearly went flying!"

He just giggled, clinging to me as I picked him up.

Evie, meanwhile, eyed me up and down with a critical gaze. "You look different."

I smirked. "In a good way or a bad way?"

She crossed her arms. "Dunno yet."

Darren groaned. "Seven years old and already a menace."

"I respect it," AJ said, giving her an approving nod.

Evie beamed, clearly taking that as high praise.

Da was already standing in the doorway, watching as Darren set down his bag. They stared at each other for a second—something unspoken passing between them—before Da stepped forward and pulled him into a quick, firm hug.

Darren clapped him on the back. "Long time no see, baby brother."

"You're six years older, Dar," Da muttered.

"Still older," Darren said with a grin. "Still wiser."

Da gave him a look before stepping back, nodding toward the house. "Come on, before Aoif starts giving out."

Alex kissed Ma's cheek as he stepped inside. "Did you make your famous stew, Aoife?"

She smiled. "Of course."

AJ groaned dramatically. "Not this again."

"You love my stew," Mam shot back.

"Yeah, but it's all you ever make when they visit."

"Because it's Darren's favourite, and I like to be a good host."

Darren smirked. "You tell him, Aoife."

Mam scoffed. "I always do."

AJ just shook his head, but he was smiling as he followed them inside.

There was something different about the house when Darren and Alex were here. The air felt lighter, like whatever weight Da carried didn't press down quite as hard.

I caught him watching Darren, something unreadable in his expression.

I didn't say anything.

Instead, I sat beside AJ at the table, letting the chaos unfold, knowing that for tonight at least, everything was okay.

Dinner with the whole family was never quiet, but when Uncle Darren and his lot were here, it was pure chaos.

Jamie was swinging his legs under the table, bouncing in his chair, barely touching his food as he told us a dramatic story about his football match last week. Evie, ever the critic, kept interrupting to correct him.

"Jamie, you did not score five goals."

"Yes, I did!"

"No, you didn't."

"I did!"

"You did not."

AJ groaned. "Jesus, it's like having a second Mallory in the house."

I kicked him under the table.

Dad was unusually quiet, though. He was listening, laughing in the right places, but his eyes kept drifting to Darren like he was waiting for something.

Darren must've felt it because he finally sighed, setting his fork down. "Alright, spit it out before you burn a hole in my head with your intense staring, Joe."

Da leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "You didn't just come down for a friendly visit."

Darren arched a brow. "No?"

"No," Da said firmly. "So what is it?"

The table went quiet. Even Jamie and Evie—who usually had no concept of shutting up—sensed the shift.

Darren exhaled through his nose, running a hand over his face. "I was gonna wait until the kids went to bed, but since you're so impatient..."

Alex placed a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. Darren looked at him for a second before turning back to Da.

"There's something I want to talk to you about," he admitted. "Something serious."

Da didn't react much, just nodded once. "Alright."

Darren hesitated, glancing at the rest of us. "Later," he added. "Just us."

Ma frowned but didn't press. AJ, however, wasn't as subtle. "What, are we not trusted with the family gossip?"

Darren gave him a flat look. "No."

AJ huffed. "Tight ship around here."

Da ignored him, eyes still locked on Darren. "Fine. We'll talk later."

With that, the tension seemed to ease a bit, conversation slowly picking back up. But I caught Da glancing at Darren a few more times, his jaw tight, like he already had an idea of what was coming—and he didn't like it.

After dinner, Ma shooed us out of the kitchen while she and Alex cleaned up. Da and Darren disappeared into the garden for their secret conversation, which left AJ, me, and the kids to entertain ourselves.

Jamie and Evie had already taken over the telly, watching some cartoon, so I sprawled out on the armchair while AJ stretched across the couch, scrolling through his phone.

"You think Da's gonna lose the head?" I asked, watching him.

AJ snorted. "Probably."

I sighed, kicking my feet over the side of the chair. "You think it's serious?"

"Dunno," he muttered, not looking up. "But it's Darren, so it's not something stupid."

He had a point. Darren didn't just drop by—not without a reason.

I bit my lip. "What if it's about—"

AJ cut me off with a look. "If it was about that, he wouldn't have waited until after dinner."

He had a point there, too.

We lapsed into silence, the sound of Jamie and Evie's cartoon filling the room.

AJ's phone buzzed, and he smirked before sitting up. "I'm heading out."

I raised a brow. "Where?"

"Saoirse's."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course."

AJ grinned, ruffling my hair as he stood. "Try not to die of boredom while I'm gone."

I shoved his arm away. "Try not to get dumped while you're gone."

He just laughed, grabbing his jacket before disappearing out the door.

I stayed put, listening to the muffled voices from the sitting room, trying to make out what was being said—but the walls were too thick, and the telly was too loud.

I hated waiting.