mood swings

Thirteen years ago, Alora and JJ were just reckless kids in love. Now, they were still in love—just older, more tired, and raising a teen with more attitude than all the Pogues combined.

Maddison was their everything. She was raised in the Chateau, surrounded by the chaos and love of the Pogues—John B’s wild ideas, Pope’s wisdom, Cleo’s blunt honesty, and Sarah’s warmth. Everyone helped raise her. She wasn’t just Alora and JJ’s daughter—she was their kid.

But now… she was thirteen.

“I said I don’t want eggs, Mom. Why do you never listen?” Maddison snapped one morning, brushing past Alora at the stove. JJ froze mid-sip of his coffee.

Alora chuckled lightly. “You asked for eggs last night, Mads.”

“That was last night,” Maddison said with an eye roll that could’ve sliced glass. “God, you’re so annoying sometimes.”

JJ gave her a look. “Watch it.”

Maddison huffed and stormed out, slamming the screen door. Again.

Later that day, Alora sat on the porch, eyes glassy, quietly peeling paint off the railing with her nail. Sarah sat beside her, handing her a bottle of water.

“She’s being really hard on you lately,” Sarah said gently.

“She’s hormonal. I get it,” Alora muttered, forcing a smile. “She’s just figuring stuff out.”

“She’s also hurting you. And she doesn’t see it.”

JJ appeared behind them, arms crossed, having heard everything. “She’s got your fire, Lo. And my mouth. Bad combo.”

Alora laughed once, then sighed. “I just miss when I was her favorite person.”

That night, the Pogues had a beach fire—just like old times. Maddison sat a little apart from everyone, arms crossed, expression bored.

JJ nudged her. “Hey. You’ve been kinda rough on your mom lately. You okay?”

Maddison looked up, guilt flashing in her eyes. “I don’t mean to be. I just… everything feels loud all the time.”

JJ nodded. “That’s normal. But she’s still your mom. She deserves your kindness. She gave up a lot for you, Mads. We all did. And we’d do it again.”

Maddison’s eyes found Alora, who was laughing at something Cleo said, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Later that night, Maddison crawled into bed beside Alora.

“Mom?” she whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I’ve been mean.”

Alora kissed her forehead. “Thanks, baby.”

“…Can we make eggs tomorrow?”

Alora smiled in the dark. “Only if you don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“No promises.”

But she was smiling, too.