the night before the fire died down, and we finally removed ourselves from the beach. Beau brought us to another house that wasn't more than a thirty-minute drive from Malibu, and the car ride there was silent.

Beau's happiness had finally worn out.

The new house sat up higher—poised on a sea-cliff. It was just as nice. Maybe even nicer. A For Sale sign sat on the lawn, and Beau muttered that it was a property his parents had remodeled and were selling. For now, it sat vacant besides the interior staging.

Those were the first words I'd heard him say in hours.

I wanted to talk, though.

Beau had already tried to apologize, but I hadn't been ready to hear it. Because something in my gut told me that he was apologizing for far more than what his brother had done. For the house. And I didn't know if I was ready to hear the truth behind the pain in his voice.

Exhausted, the others had found bedrooms to collapse into for the night. We would need to figure out a plan in the morning, but for now, sleep beckoned.

I found Beau outside, looking out at the ocean.

"I'm sorry," he said softly when he heard me walk onto the balcony. "I'm sorry I didn't—"

"Why don't you have the money that Cato wanted?"

Instead of turning to look at me, Beau hung his head.

"Collins, please."

The desperation in his voice cut through me. His house just burned to the ground. His brother had tied me up, harassed him, harassed me. I shouldn't do this to Beau right now...but I had to.

He had his time to keep me out. Now, I needed in all the way. If he could demand it, then so could I.

"Tell me, Beau. Let me in."

It was dark. I could hear the ocean more than I could see it. The waves washed over the silent pause in pulses.

"I made a deal with Denver Bailey and his family," Beau confessed without daring to look at me. "I was going to pay them off to leave you the fuck alone. That's why I don't have the money to help Cato."

Oh...Oh, god. This was worse. This was worse than realizing he was a twin. Worse than staring up into the eyes of a stranger and realizing I was looking at a lie.

This lie—this omission of the truth—was worse.

"You didn't," I choked, trying to gasp for a little bit of air.

But I knew he did. This was Beau. He thought money solved the world's problems. He thought he could solve my problems. He always had. Of course he'd do this.

Beau lifted his gaze, and there was fire there. Fire. Fire. Fire.

"You wouldn't talk to me about it," he said, his voice hovering around a low, trembling note. "You wouldn't even admit that something needed to be done, and meanwhile, that fucking asshole was practically stalking you, Collins."

It felt like the floor had given way, and I was falling. But somehow, my words stayed steady. "He wasn't stalking me."

Beau's expression screwed up. "Oh, so it's a coincidence that he shows up twice to talk to you on the two weekends that I'm out of town?"

No, it couldn't have been a coincidence. I was reasonable enough to know that. It wasn't worth arguing that for the sake of arguing. Beau was right.

"Have you heard from him lately?" he pressed on.

No. I hadn't.

I shook my head.

"And you've been happy," he said, almost forcefully. He bit at the words. "You've been able to move on."

And that was when I finally found my footing again. "Beau, you can't force someone to move on from something without their goddamn permission!" I cried.

"I don't understand." He rubbed his forehead massaging his brain would help quicken his comprehension. "I don't get why you wouldn't want to push away someone who manipulated you. Who used you."

"You don't?" I clutched to the balcony railing for support, unable to believe what he'd said. "You can't think of anyone in your life who, even though you know they're bad for you, you can't disconnect? Because of your history? Because of where you came from?"

Beau stared at me like he didn't know where I was going with this. So I took it away.

"For crying out loud, Beau. It's Bren and his dad. It's Madie and Quinton. It's Grayson and that asshole childhood best friend of his, the one who made those disgusting jokes about Madie. Nessa's the only one who cut ties with the person who hurt her and never looked back. But it still ruined her trust so bad that she nearly lost the chance to be with Grayson. It's not easy, Beau. It's not easy to walk away."

He shook his head and then spoke with such a low tone that it caused shivers to erupt on my skin. "There was a time when you made it seem pretty easy to walk away from me."

My mouth fell open. A ripping sensation tore through my chest.

"Easy? It wasn't easy, Beau. We only knew each other for one night, and that was still fucking heart-wrenching. I hated it. I hated all of it. What does that tell you?"

Beau glanced up at me from beneath hooded eyes. Pain was there. Pain was there, and I felt it. But he didn't say anything.

"I pushed away the good thing because I was scared of the bad," I whispered.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. "Collins, I—"

"You should be sorry." I wasn't ready to hear his apologies. Not when he started in so heavily with the defense. "Because you're no better than me."

Beau jerked back. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I waited for it to finally sink in. It took a while, but then I watched as his eyes rolled back when it did.

"Cato."

"Yeah," I said dryly. "Cato. Your identical twin that you didn't tell me about. How long has he been manipulating you, Beau?"

His brother wouldn't have come to him for money like that, wouldn't have harassed him like that, wouldn't have gone through all the disgusting lengths he did if he wasn't so mad that Beau suddenly wasn't caving. If he wasn't used to Beau caving.

Because that was Beau, wasn't it? When people needed him, he was there. Even if they didn't deserve it.

Beau didn't seem to know what to say to that. And I didn't really need to know the answer. I just wanted him to understand.

"Did you pay them already?" I demanded, asking what I thought would be an easier question.

It wasn't. Beau leaned on the railing, dropped his head into his hands, and breathed so deep that I thought he would lose it. It was the only reason I didn't ask the question again, my insides crawling with anxiety as I waited for him to spit it out.

I desperately needed him to say no. This wasn't at all how this was supposed to go.

Beau breathed out slowly and then shook his head. "No. We were still drawing up the contract."

When Beau glanced up at me, I realized that he hadn't been afraid of telling me the truth; it had been what I wanted to hear, and he knew it. No, he had been considering not telling me the truth at all. He still wanted to go out and exact his little deal without me even knowing the difference.

All the relief I'd felt a few seconds ago vanished, and my hands balled up in frustration.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Beau swiveled toward the balcony doors with surprise in his eyes. I knew even before I looked who that voice likely belonged to, and my stomach dropped. There were damn near tears in my eyes, ashes in my hair, sand stuck between my toes, and it was the worst possible time to meet—

"Mom?"

Beau's mom walked onto the balcony. If she was upset that her multi-million dollar property had just burned to the ground, she didn't look it. She was the picture of composure, wearing business attire with her black hair swept into a low bun despite the late hour.

She knew that she was interrupting something. But she did it anyway, not even hesitating as she marched up to us. Her eyes narrowed on Beau, and Beau's expression told me he didn't know what to make of it. Not until she pulled him into a hug and scolded him.

"You didn't call me."

"Mom, I—"

"Your brother had to call me."

Beau stuttered as Cato stepped onto the balcony behind his mom. I couldn't read the copy cat's expression, but then again, that didn't surprise me. I automatically stepped closer to Beau, who wrapped his arm behind my back and pulled me in tight.

"You followed us here?" Beau glared at Cato. "Jesus, why can't you just leave—"

"If you burn the goddamn house down, then the first thing you do is call your mother," Beau's mom cut in sternly, swatting Beau in the arm. "Seriously, Beau."

"Mom, I'm sorry." The hurt in Beau's eyes pained me to see, even if I was still beyond livid with him. "But for the record, the house only burned down because—"

"Of your brother. Yes, I know. But the house isn't what I'm concerned about." Mrs. Martin waved any thought of the house away. "It needed a remodel anyway."

Beau didn't appear surprised by his mom's dismissal of the house fire, but he still seemed wary. And a moment later, I realized why.

"I need Cato to leave," he said beneath his breath, shooting a look at his brother.

Cato had a response primed and ready to go, but Mrs. Martin lifted a finger that had the twins snapping their mouths shut.

"I understand. But Cato needs to be here for this, and he's going to play nice if he wants a lick of my help." Her eyes darted to Cato. "Yes?"

Lips drawn in a line, Cato nodded. He glanced once at Beau but didn't dare look at me, which I was grateful for. Seeing him made my insides turn. I didn't trust him for shit; there was an undeniable gut feeling there. But my gut also told me that Beau's mom had the situation handled. Just looking at her gave me that swelling, safe feeling that only a mother-figure could provide.

A smile with a touch of slyness spread over Mrs. Martin's face as she turned toward me. Feeling my cheeks heat, I quickly readjusted my swimsuit cover-up. Beau's mom meant the world to him, and for the first time meeting her, I was covered in sand and dirt and...shame.

"Collins," she said. It wasn't a question or even an introduction. Just a warm greeting. "I was hoping to meet under better circumstances, but I'm so happy to see you either way." She gave a scathing glance at Beau. "Beau has been hogging you, hasn't he?"

"Mom," Beau hissed. His fingers tightened around my waist. "Can you try to like...not immediately embarrass me?"

"No," she replied simply. "I think you deserve a little embarrassment."

When she looked back at me, I cleared my throat and tried my best to hide my slight intimidation. "It's so nice to meet you, Mrs. Martin."

"Dalha," she whispered, almost conspiratorially, and looped her arm through mine. She tugged me away from Beau, back into the house, her heels clicking on the floor as we crossed the sparsely furnished living room. Reaching the kitchen table, she released my arm and extracted a laptop from a stylish briefcase, popping it open.

"Collins, I think it's time for us to handle this situation. And properly." Her sparkling eyes found mine, and the confidence in them soothed me. My body relaxed for the first time in hours. "How does that sound to you?"

I glanced up to see Beau and Cato standing in the doorway, both looking like they wanted the ground to swallow them whole.

I turned back to Dalha and inhaled deeply.

"I think that sounds great."

✨

it's mama martin's time to

🪩shine🪩

xoxo Amelie