Beau made an annoyed grunt at my response to whoever was on the other side of the bathroom door, his lips still feeling right at home on the side of my neck.

"Be right out?" he groaned. "I'd rather keep this party going in here. What'd ya think?"

"No." I sucked in a breath. "Beau, stop."

He did.

He did, and it hurt.

—

Beau walked across the room, tracing my face with his eyes like he'd never fully looked at me before. It was sweet...but worrying. It would be just like Beau to try to hide it if he weren't feeling well. Maybe he would let me take care of him one day like he did with me. Just maybe.

He swore beneath his breath as he crossed the room.

"God, you're hot. How—"

He stopped, shaking his head.

Laughing, I looked down at myself. Damp swimsuit, sand stuck to me in places I wished it wasn't, my face aged by the sun and wind. I didn't feel the least bit sexy, but I knew Beau was trying to flip the focus from him to me. He went a step further to prove that when he snatched up an extra swimsuit top from the floor, pulled the string ties out of it before closing the distance between us.

"You sure you don't want to lie down?" I asked. My heart rate kicked up a notch as he moved stealthily toward me.

"Nah, I want you to first," he said with a grin.

He pocketed the strings while he walked to the patio doors, opening them a crack. It surprised me, considering how he made sure to close them the other night when he knew Bren and Madie were out there. And right now, everyone was out there. But I didn't say anything; I studied Beau as he went to both bedside tables, lighting one candle and then another with a lighter from his pocket.

Beau didn't usually take the time to set the mood like this. He didn't need to. He was the mood. How he spoke, how he moved, the way he touched me. For crying out loud, the first time he'd gotten me off, we were in a hotel elevator. The mood was...desperation.

But something had gotten into him today, and I trusted Beau with my whole heart. So I fell back onto the bed and thrust my hands above me, knowing what he wanted.

Beau raised a brow but didn't waste a single second; he tied my wrists together using the swimsuit strings, and based on how little give I had to move, he also tied them to the wrought iron headboard.

As he leaned over me, his strong-smelling cologne enveloped me like a cloud. It was musky, masculine and...suffocating. I couldn't place it. It wasn't what I was expecting. It wasn't salt, sand, and sun. It wasn't Beau.

When he finished, he stood over me, and I stared at him. Really stared at him.

Uneasiness rushed into my veins.

"What?" he asked.

"I just...I feel overdressed compared to you," I teased. Tried to, anyway. I wasn't sure if it was working. My hands were suddenly clammy, and my skin had pebbled with goosebumps.

"Well, we can fix that."

A sly smile accompanied his words, and my body didn't know how to respond to it. My heart stuttered as Beau flung off his shirt. It flitted to the floor. His hat fell off in the process, too. And I...paused.

Froze.

"Where's your—"

I couldn't finish the question. I never could finish speaking in times when it really mattered. Talking in complete sentences when Beau took his shirt off had always been impossible. But this...this wasn't Beau.

My insides screamed. They screamed and screamed, and finally, I was able to pry my jaw open and let it all out.

Beau—not Beau—wasn't alarmed by my outburst. He shrugged as though he'd been expecting it, walked over to the dresser across from the bed, and leaned against it. Then he waited. He watched as I yanked at the ties around my wrist, which wouldn't give.

"Shh," he said softly. "You're okay, Collins. I'm sure he's coming."

"Who—what—"

The words wouldn't come.

The words wouldn't come, but I felt tears gather in their place.

And as soon as I heard Beau—my Beau—from outside the patio doors, they began to fall.

"Collins!"

He burst into the room. One look at me, and his expression flipped from terrified to torturous. Murderous. His gaze lifted to his copycat, and I thought for sure that Beau would launch himself across the room. But his fist tightened around the patio door handle instead, twisting like he imagined popping someone's head off.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Cato."

"Cato?" I repeated, the word mumbling as it came out.

"She's fine," the imposter insisted, lifting his hands up in defense. "I didn't touch her."

"She's not fine," Beau growled. "She's—oh my God, baby."

The bed was only a step or two from the door, and Beau crossed that space in less time than it took to blink. He untied the knots around my wrists and pulled me into him, murmuring apologies that went in one ear and out the other.

It wasn't until Beau yelled that I realized I was shaking.

"You scared the shit out of her, asshole!"

My fingers scraped frantically at Beau's side, wanting him to twist so I could see the rest of him. He seemed confused, but he turned. And I saw it. With a sigh of shattering relief, I fell into his chest, tracing the waves of the ocean on his skin. His tattoo.

"So that's what it was," Cato said wryly. Snatching his shirt from the ground, he pulled it back over his head. "I was wondering what tipped her off. Nice ink, bro. That must be new."

Beau ignored the comment.

I wanted to tell Cato that it wasn't just the ink. It was his expression. His smell. His hat and the hair beneath it when it fell off his head. The way he spoke to me. He wasn't Beau. He just wasn't Beau.

"Did he touch you?" Beau asked, keeping his voice low. "If he fucking—God, that scream scared me half to death. I was halfway to the house to check on you, and holy shit."

Beau clutched me tighter as I shook my head. No, he didn't touch me. Not like that and barely at all—that should have been my biggest clue. Beau's hands were never far from my body when we were together and—

"You didn't call me," Cato cut in, shrugging. "And I figured if you weren't going to introduce me to your girlfriend, I should take matters into my own hands."

"Oh," Beau said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You couldn't have just introduced yourself like a normal person? You couldn't have said hi, I'm Beau's twin? You really had to tie her up?"

Cato's lips quirked. He seemed both amused and impressed, and not at all ashamed. "Do you know how willing she was to do that? I didn't even need to breathe a word. Like damn, dude."

I felt Beau's arms flex around my waist as he made a throaty noise. His body was coiled, seconds away from springing on his brother, and if he weren't so tightly wound up in me, I was positive he already would have.

"I thought he was you," I whispered into Beau's chest, breathing in the saltwater on his skin. I let his warmth wrap around me. "I thought you—"

"Look, I'm sorry for the scare." Cato's eyes—which I couldn't believe I'd ever thought were Beau's—drifted to me. "Honestly, I thought that you might be using Beau for his money, so I didn't feel that bad about all this, about toying with you. But then I realized you're damn sweet with how worried you were for him. When I said I had a headache and all that."

That straightened my spine. I broke through Beau's embrace, sitting to face Cato.

"If you think money is the only reason someone would date Beau, then fuck off."

With his eyebrows high on his forehead, Cato turned to Beau. "Protective, too? Shit, man. Wanna sha—"

"If you finish that sentence, I'm gonna break your nose, Cato," Beau snarled. "I swear to god. No one will ever confuse us again if you keep talking."

"Fine. But hear me out. I needed your attention." Cato's expression suddenly flattened, serious. "And I didn't want her to run away before I got it. Because then I'd be shit out of luck."

"Jesus fucking Christ." The curse was hushed, but Beau hurled the following words across the room. "When will you learn to use a goddamn phone, Cato?"

"Like hell would you pick up if I called." His brother rolled his eyes in a way that Beau would never. "You keep pushing me away!"

"No, that's all you," Beau hurled back at him. "You—fuck. Whatever, Cato. I need you to leave. I need you to leave right now."

"No."

Beau pushed off the bed with fury burning in his gaze, but I grabbed his hand and pulled him back down. Yanked him back down because I had my own bit of fire in me. Goddamn him for not telling me he was a twin. A fucking twin.

And yet, even though I was seeing red, I couldn't let him leave my side. Not now. Not ever.

"You wanted me to leave the other night because of her," Cato said, pointing at me. "But now she's here. We're all here. So what's it matter?"

Beau's eyes flared. He looked at me, and I knew he could see how my shock was morphing into anger. But that helped Cato's case none.

"It matters," Beau said, voice low. "Because you can't just pull shit like this."

"You were always the dramatic one growing up," Cato muttered. "Figured I'd try my hand at it."

"I'm dramatic?" Beau's lips split in a wry grin. One of disbelief. "Fuck, that's it. We're leaving. Go to hell, Cato."

"I'm already there," he said darkly. "But thanks for ditching me in it."

Beau, with his arms already half around me again, froze.

I wondered if he could see how Cato knew he'd trapped him. Cato knew Beau wouldn't abandon anyone if they needed him.

And he was using that against him.

"Fine, we can talk." Beau's chest heaved as he slowly curled his arm beneath mine, trying to tug me up. Trying to get me to leave. "But you've terrorized Collins enough, and she doesn't need to be here for this."

I slipped out of Beau's grasp. "I think I do."

Beau's expression was strained when he looked down at me. "Collins..."

"You have a twin, Beau," I choked out. "An identical twin."

"Baby, I..."

Suddenly it seemed that Beau was the one who couldn't find the words.

"What's this all about, Cato?" I asked, turning my attention toward him, saying his name with a bite.

For some reason, it made Beau's brother smile. My skin crawled as he crossed his arms over his chest and watched as I grabbed my swimsuit coverup from the floor to pull it over my head.

Which was spinning. There were two of them.

Two. Of. Them.

But only one Beau.

Definitely only one Beau.

"I really need Beau's help with an investment," Cato replied simply. "And he's not helping me."

I looked sharply at Beau, raising a brow. "That's all?"

That couldn't be all. That couldn't be all because Beau didn't just not help people when they needed help. Especially when it involved money. And this was his brother.

"No," Beau said while Cato nodded.

"It's complicated, Collins," Beau added, lowering his voice. But it wasn't quiet enough; Cato still heard, cutting in with a drawl.

"'It's really not that complicated—"

"It's complicated because I don't have the money to help you, Cato!" Beau exploded, and Cato jerked back like he was struck.

I didn't blame him, either, because I'd never seen Beau carry this type of desperation, this type of anger. Maybe only on Christmas when he found Denver bothering me in our apartment.

"I'm sorry...what?"

"I don't have the money," Beau repeated, throwing his head back in frustration. His eyelids closed and then slowly lifted again. Like he was hoping that this would all be a dream when he opened them.

A vein ticked in Cato's neck. He kicked away from the dresser he'd been leaning on, walking with slow steps toward Beau.

"There's no way in hell that's true." His eyes narrowed, accusatory. "You just don't want to help me. You just want to side with mom and dad like you always fucking do."

Cato's hesitant steps sped up as he came toward Beau and me. But Beau caught him by the shirt and twisted to shove him against the bedside table, knocking shit left and right to the floor.

"It has nothing to do with that!" he yelled.

Cato knocked Beau's hands away, his expression mirroring his twin's. "Then what does it have to do with?"

"I told you. I don't have the money," Beau said, punching every word through his gritted teeth. "Because I..."

Beau's gaze drifted to me, and my throat closed up. I barely got my next words out. I felt like I was...falling.

"You what, Beau?"

Beau never got a chance to answer. Suddenly we all realized that the heat on our backs had nothing to with the argument.

And everything to do with how the curtains were on fire.

✨

i heard through the grapevine that you love cliffhangers?

xoxoxo