Summer

Kian/ Mallory

Kian

Now that school's finally out for summer, Conor invited the whole group to the infamous Kavanagh beach house. The annual trip, like always. Bonfires, sand between your toes, and usually someone falling asleep in a hoodie under the stars.

But this year was different.

Mal was nearly full term—eight months and a bit, bump so big now she made these dramatic little grunts every time she had to bend down. And while she'd pretended for about five seconds that she was fine to go, we both knew we weren't risking it.

I came early. Her brother did too. And her.

So yeah—we weren't exactly putting our money on this baby waiting until her due date.

So we stayed home.

Didn't mean we missed out on the summer, though. It just meant ours looked a little different. Slower. Quieter. Mostly full of iced drinks and fan complaints and Mal waddling around the garden like she was about to fight someone for the last ice lolly.

"I swear to God, if this baby doesn't come out soon, I'm gonna evict her myself," she grumbled earlier, one hand on her hip and the other balancing a bowl of strawberries on her bump.

"You're the one who gave her a cozy little house," I teased, brushing her hair back off her sweaty forehead. "She's living in luxury."

"She's squishing my bladder like a damn trampoline," she shot back.

Still, there was a softness to the day. Her in one of my old shirts. The sun filtering through the curtains. Music playing low in the background while we sat on the back steps, her feet in my lap and my hands tracing lazy circles over her ankle.

I wasn't gonna lie—part of me missed the chaos of the beach house. But another, bigger part of me knew I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Here.

With her.

Waiting for our little girl.

Mallory

I was trying to decide if I could reach the strawberries again without asking Kian to get them for me—again—when the back door creaked open.

Mam stepped outside, sunglasses perched in her hair and a mug of tea in hand, her sandals making that familiar clack-clack on the patio. She didn't say anything at first, just smiled and lowered herself onto the bench beside us with a soft little sigh.

"God, it's roasting," she said, taking a sip. "You two alright out here?"

"Just about," I muttered, flopping back against Kian's chest like a beached whale. "Might start charging rent if she doesn't come out soon."

Kian snorted, his hands resting lightly on either side of my bump. "You say that like she's not already running the place."

Mam leaned forward and patted my belly gently, the familiar comfort of her presence settling over me like a cool breeze.

"Hi, little lady," she said softly, rubbing a slow circle with her thumb. "We're all waiting on you, y'know. No pressure or anything."

"She's taking the piss," I grumbled, even though my voice went soft too. "Like, what else has she got going on in there?"

"She's smart," Mam said with a little smirk. "She knows she'll never get this kind of peace and quiet again."

Kian chuckled. "She's gonna be spoiled rotten."

"Oh, 100%," Mam agreed, glancing sideways at him. "You're gonna be worse than anyone, I can tell already."

"I'm not denying that," he said, totally serious.

I looked between them—my mam, with her freckles and her soft smile, and Kian, this boy who wasn't even really a boy anymore, not with the way he looked at me, like I was everything. Like the baby was everything.

And for a moment, I wasn't uncomfortable or cranky or worried about when the baby would come. I was just... full.

Of love.

Of quiet.

Of this strange, glowing peace I didn't even know I'd needed.

Mam glanced at me then, brushing some hair from my face. "You alright, love?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I'm... happy."

Kian kissed the side of my head. "Same."

Mam just smiled, soft and knowing, and took another sip of tea like she'd seen it all before. And maybe she had. Maybe this—this little corner of the world, this summer afternoon—was exactly what she'd been hoping I'd find.

Mam stayed out with us for a while, the three of us just sitting there in the quiet hum of a late summer afternoon. She and Kian were talking softly about baby names again—mostly winding each other up—while I let my eyes close for a second, letting the sun warm my face and the gentle rhythm of their voices wash over me.

"Still voting for Callie ," Mam said, nudging Kian with her foot.

Kian shook his head, grinning. "It's a lovely name, but your daughter's got her heart set on something else."

Mam turned to me, eyebrows raised. "Oh yeah? And what would that be?"

I opened one eye lazily. "I'm not telling you till she's born."

"Cheek," Mam said with a laugh. "She's already keeping secrets."

"She gets it from you," Kian teased, and Mam let out a snort before finishing her tea.

"I'll leave you two to it," she said, patting my leg as she stood. "Shout if you need anything. Or if your waters break, obviously."

I made a face. "Mam!"

"What?" she called over her shoulder as she headed back inside. "You're due any day now! You could sneeze and that baby might just slide right out."

Kian choked on his own laugh while I buried my face in his shoulder, mortified. "She's insane."

"She's not wrong, though," he murmured, resting his chin on top of my head. "Could happen any time."

"Don't remind me."

He shifted slightly so he could look down at me properly, tucking a bit of hair behind my ear. "You nervous?"

I nodded, not bothering to lie. "Yeah. But not like... bad nervous. Just... I want her to be okay."

"She will be," he said quietly, thumb brushing along my cheek. "She's got you."

"And you," I added, meeting his eyes.

"Yeah," he said, voice softer now. "Me too."

The door slid shut behind Mam, and the garden fell quiet again—just the buzz of insects, the distant hum of traffic, and the occasional shift of wind through the trees.

"Do you think it'll be weird?" I asked after a moment. "When she's actually here?"

"Weird in the best way," he said. "Like... the kind of weird that changes everything but makes it all better."

I smiled, turning a little so I could lie back against him properly, hands folded over my belly.

"Good," I whispered. "That's the kind of weird I want."