Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bruce advanced down the narrow hallway, his footsteps muffled by the worn carpet leading to the bedrooms. Though the house was silent, the muffled murmurs drifting from the last door guided him toward his destination. His brow furrowed, and almost without realizing it, he squeezed the hand he was holding, seeking reassurance.

The subtle gesture didn’t go unnoticed. His companion turned to him, concern flickering in her gaze.

"What are you thinking about?" Brandy asked, her voice soft, as if she feared disturbing the quiet around them.

Bruce exhaled, doubt and worry swirling in his violet eyes. "Brandy… are we doing the right thing? Should we really trust that John Dory knows what he's doing?"

The redhead gave him a patient, tender smile, gently squeezing his hand in support. "I understand your doubts, honey, but sometimes you just have to have faith. John Dory doesn’t always get it right, but I think he truly wants what’s best for everyone."

Bruce considered her words, his expression gradually softening. Finally, he nodded, returning her smile.

Without further hesitation, they stopped in front of the last door. Moving carefully, Bruce turned the knob, opening it just enough to peek inside. The sight that greeted them brought a fond smile to their faces.

There, in the center of the room, stood Branch—Bruce’s younger sister, barely seven—leaning over Clay, the middle sibling, as she carefully applied a bright shade of pink lipstick to his lips. Clay, visibly resigned, remained stoic, though his eyes seemed to be pleading with the universe for mercy.

In the corner, Floyd—the second youngest of the siblings—sat recording the scene on his phone, barely holding back his laughter.

"Don't move!" Branch warned, waving the lipstick in front of Clay’s face. "If you ruin my masterpiece, I’ll have to start all over again."

"God forbid…" Clay muttered, though he remained perfectly still.

Bruce cleared his throat from the doorway, instantly drawing everyone’s attention. Floyd glanced up from his phone, then burst into open laughter at the sight of the couple standing there.

“Enjoying the show?” Floyd asked, his tone dripping with amusement.

“More than we probably should be,” Bruce replied, stepping into the room with Brandy beside him.

Branch’s eyes lit up the moment she spotted her older brother. “Bruce!” she squealed, hastily setting aside her lipstick. “Do you want to be my next model?”

The room erupted in laughter, but Bruce simply crouched down in front of his little sister, resting his hands gently on her shoulders. “Maybe another day, little one.”

Branch pursed her lips, caught between disappointment and defiance. Just as she opened her mouth to protest, Brandy stepped in with a bright smile.

“How about this—what if you become my model, little Branchie?” she suggested, picking up the makeup case with a theatrical flourish.

Branch’s face lit up instantly, eyes wide with excitement. “Really?!” she gasped, practically bouncing in place.

“Of course! But on one condition—we’ll keep it simple and special, nothing too over the top.”

Branch nodded eagerly, hopping onto a small chair and surrendering herself to Brandy’s care. The young woman leaned in with a warm smile, carefully selecting the softest, most flattering colors—ones that would highlight Branch’s natural sweetness while keeping her playful essence intact.

Meanwhile, Bruce and his brothers exchanged uneasy glances. Despite the laughter filling the room, the weight of their concerns lingered. Floyd crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, while Clay discreetly wiped off the remnants of makeup with a tissue he had found nearby.

"Do you really think this will work?" Floyd murmured, his voice barely above a whisper so as not to disturb the girls.

Bruce exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. "I don't know, Floyd. John Dory has always been the one making the tough calls."

Clay, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "It’s not about whether JD is right or wrong that worries me… It’s that Branch will be the one to pay the price if he isn’t."

Floyd gave a slow, reluctant nod. The three of them stood in tense silence, watching as Brandy carefully dabbed a touch of gloss onto Branch’s cheeks. The little girl grinned at her reflection, completely unaware of the unease in the room.

Bruce squared his shoulders. "If we’re going to trust John, we have to do it as a team," he said firmly. "Because if this starts to go south, we need to be ready to step in."

Floyd and Clay exchanged a look before nodding. They weren’t entirely convinced, but they knew Bruce was right.

"All done!" Brandy’s voice cut through their thoughts.

Branch immediately sprang to her feet and ran to her brothers, beaming. "Look! Don’t I look like a star?"

Floyd smiled, leaning in as if to inspect her more closely. "No doubt about it, my sapphire. You’re the brightest star in this family. Here—let me take a picture and send it to JD so he can see how beautiful you look."

Branch laughed with delight, eagerly striking a pose for the camera—completely unaware of the storm brewing just beneath her brothers’ quiet conversation.

*************************

Viva read the message on her phone, and her brow furrowed instantly. She understood that her family was going through a difficult time, one that demanded drastic measures, but that didn’t stop the pang of uncertainty that settled in her chest. With a resigned sigh, she slipped the phone into her pocket and headed for the backyard, hoping the sight of her little brother would bring her some relief.

She walked slowly, letting the floral scent in the air and the soft crunch of grass beneath her feet ground her, even if just for a moment. In the distance, childish laughter rang out, light and carefree. The sound tugged at her heart, and her pace quickened as she followed the voices.

Rounding the corner, she spotted Poppy and his ever-loyal friend Smidge. The two were completely immersed in their imaginary world, brandishing wooden sticks as makeshift swords while racing around a ‘castle’ built from branches and old cushions.

Viva paused, watching from a distance as a fond smile curved her lips. For a brief moment, her worries faded, replaced by the simple joy of childhood innocence. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, careful not to disrupt their game too abruptly.

“Hello there!” Viva greeted warmly, crouching slightly to meet their level. “What are you two up to?”

Poppy’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he raised his ‘sword’ high into the air. “We’re brave knights!” he declared. “On a mission to rescue the princess from the evil dragon!”

Beside him, Smidge nodded vigorously, gripping her stick with the unshakable seriousness of a seasoned warrior.

“You could be our princess,” Poppy said, grinning as he bounded toward Viva. “Wanna play with us?”

Viva chuckled, amused by her younger brother’s enthusiasm. “And why isn’t Smidge the princess in distress?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise.

Smidge crossed her arms, her expression firm. “Because I want to be a knight,” she declared. “I like being in the action, not sitting around waiting for someone to rescue me.”

Viva’s smile widened. She winked at Smidge. “Princesses can fight too, you know. Some are just as brave as knights.”

Smidge considered this for a moment, then shook her head with a small smirk. “Nah. I’d rather be a knight.”

Viva chuckled, lifting her hands in surrender. “Then so be it! But before the adventure begins… how about a photo?”

The little ones exchanged excited glances before nodding eagerly.

“Yes!” Poppy cheered, running up to Viva and wrapping his arms around her waist. Viva already had her phone in hand, ready.

She snapped the selfie, capturing Poppy’s beaming face. Then she extended her hand toward Smidge. Smidge hesitated—just for a second—but then grinned and leaned in.

“Smile, you brave knights!” Viva said as she clicked the perfect shot.

As soon as the photo was taken, Poppy raised his wooden sword high. “Now, to the rescue of the princess!”

“Or maybe...” Viva picked up a fallen branch, striking a playful stance. “The princess can fight too!”

Laughter rang through the garden as their game resumed, their imaginations turning the backyard into a grand battlefield of courage and fun. For a little while, Viva let go of her worries, swept away in a world where knights and princesses fought side by side—and anything felt possible.

*************************

Both men studied each other in silence, as if trying to decipher unspoken words in the dim glow of the room. Cups of coffee—or perhaps something stronger—sat untouched on the table, forgotten in the weight of their meeting.

The Chordwell and Beaumont families had never been allies. Their rivalry was an open secret in the community, a quiet war waged in boardrooms and backchannels. But circumstances had shifted, forcing an uneasy truce. This meeting was no coincidence.

Peppy leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping idly against the table. “So, John Dory,” he said at last, breaking the silence, “you mentioned a proposal.”

John Dory inclined his head, his eyes gleaming with quiet confidence. “That’s right. My family is entering the music business. We’ve had a strong start, but to truly establish ourselves, we need the right connections. And you, Mr. Peppy, have those connections.”

Peppy arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And why exactly should that interest my family?”

John’s smile was slow, knowing—as if he had been waiting for that very question. “Because your family enjoys a… distinguished lifestyle. However, word has it that your fortune isn’t what it once was.” He let the words settle before continuing. “My family has capital. The kind that, with the right connections, won’t just replenish your wealth—it will multiply it. And in doing so, benefit us both.”

Peppy narrowed his eyes, drumming his fingers against the table. “So, what exactly are you proposing? That we become partners?”

John Dory leaned in slightly, his voice taking on a persuasive edge. “Exactly. You provide the connections and the prestige your name carries, and I supply the capital and infrastructure to grow this business exponentially. In time, both families will benefit, and together, we can redefine the music industry in this region.”

Peppy remained silent, his fingers now tapping against the arm of his chair. His gaze stayed locked on John, as if trying to peel back every layer of meaning behind his words. The logic of the deal was undeniable. But the risk? Monumental. Trusting a family that had been more rival than ally for years was not a decision to be made lightly.

At last, he spoke, his tone cool and deliberate. “This all sounds a little too… generous. What is it your family really wants from this alliance, John Dory?”

John held his smile, but there was a flicker of impatience in his eyes. “Nothing but mutual gain, Mr. Peppy. We want legitimacy—prestige—something your family can offer. And you, in turn, need financial stability. It’s a fair deal. We both win, or neither of us does.”

Peppy studied him, measuring each word. “You’ll understand if I find it hard to believe that’s all your family expects in return.”

John nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “That’s fair. Suspicion is natural. But let me put it plainly—my family has only one condition. A safeguard, to ensure neither side betrays the other’s trust.”

Peppy’s fingers stilled. “A safeguard?”

“That’s right.” John straightened in his chair, his tone calm but resolute. “The only way to guarantee harmony between our families is to unite them.”

Peppy’s eyes narrowed. “Speak plainly, John Dory.”

John took a measured sip of his drink, as if savoring the weight of his next words. Then, he set the glass down and met Peppy’s gaze.

“I’m proposing a marriage arrangement. My little sister, Branch, and your son, Poppy. They’re young now, but when the time comes, their union would cement our alliance—and bind our families together for good.”

Peppy leaned back in his chair, processing what he had just heard. “You want to marry my Poppy to your little sister?”

“Exactly.” John pulled out his phone, turning the screen toward Peppy. His smile was warm, but there was a calculated sharpness behind it. “This is an important proposal for me and my family. Believe me, Mr. Peppy, I don’t make this offer lightly.”

Peppy glanced at the screen. A little girl beamed at the camera, her sapphire-blue eyes wide with innocence. The weight of John’s proposition contrasted starkly with the carefree joy in her expression.

“She’s just a child,” Peppy murmured, his voice quieter, more contemplative.

“Just like Poppy,” John replied, his tone firm but free of malice. “They’ll grow up in families that fight for their own. There’s no better way to secure our alliance than through them.”

Silence settled between them as Peppy let the words sink in. The idea was as compelling as it was controversial. He knew his family would balk at such an arrangement, but the reality of their situation left little room for sentiment.

“What do your brothers think of this?”

John exhaled, leaning back slightly. “They trust me to do what’s best. But understand this—Branch is our little star, our sapphire, my baby girl. If you accept this agreement, I expect that when Poppy becomes her husband, he will treat her as she deserves. Otherwise, he’ll have the entire Chordwell family to answer to.”

Peppy’s lips pressed into a thin line. “My Poppy is a polite boy. I have no doubt he’ll grow up to be a fine gentleman.” He sighed, rubbing his temple. “And what will we tell the children?”

John’s smile widened slightly as he arched a brow. “Does that mean you accept?”

“That depends on how you answer my question.”

John nodded. “Right now, they’re too young to understand love or marriage. My proposal is simple: we let them live their lives without burdening them with this arrangement. If you accept, we’ll sign a contract—one my lawyers have prepared, which you’re free to review to ensure fairness. As for Branch and Poppy, they don’t need to know each other or even be aware of the agreement. Over time, we can gradually introduce the idea to them—little by little—until the day comes when they are ready to marry.”

Peppy considered John’s words, his fingers drumming lightly against the table. Finally, he exhaled and extended a hand. “Let me see that contract.”

A satisfied smile flickered across John’s face as he pulled the papers from his briefcase and handed them over. Peppy fell silent, his eyes meticulously scanning each line. Across from him, John remained composed—watching with the kind of measured patience that only a seasoned negotiator could maintain.

The air between them thickened with unspoken weight. This moment would define the future of two families bound by years of rivalry.

At last, Peppy set the document down, his expression unreadable as he folded his arms. “Everything appears to be in order, John Dory. But I should warn you of something.”

John arched a brow. “I’m listening.”

Peppy’s gaze sharpened. “My family has standards. High ones. I won’t tolerate the Beaumont name being dragged through the mud if this arrangement doesn’t unfold as promised.”

John dipped his head, his smile polite but calculated. “Of course, Mr. Peppy. My family holds itself to the same standards. Rest assured, I’ll see to it that both sides honor this agreement.”

Peppy let out another slow sigh, then reached for the pen John extended. With a practiced hand, he signed, his elegant script sealing the pact. The quiet scratch of ink against paper echoed in the room—a sound that marked the turning of history.

John took the pen next, adding his own signature before offering his hand. Peppy accepted, their handshake firm, final.

“Then we have an agreement,” John said, his smile edged with both diplomacy and victory.

Peppy nodded, his gaze unwavering. “But remember this, John—if this deal fails to benefit my family as you’ve promised, I won’t be lenient.”

John let out a low chuckle, more a gesture of courtesy than amusement. “The same goes for you, Mr. Peppy.”

Both men rose, gathering their belongings as the conversation reached its natural end. The deal was done.

As they stepped out of the office, Peppy halted in front of a window overlooking the back garden. Below, Poppy played with Viva and Smidge, his laughter ringing through the air as he brandished a wooden stick like a sword. The sight brought a sudden pang to Peppy's chest. Had he done the right thing in deciding his son’s future for him?

John, noticing the pause, stepped beside him. “He’s a lively boy,” he remarked, watching the scene unfold. “I’m sure he’ll make an excellent husband for my sister.”

Peppy said nothing, his gaze lingering on his son’s carefree innocence. “I just hope this arrangement doesn’t take away what I love most, John.”

John nodded, his usual easy demeanor giving way to something more solemn. “If there’s one thing we both know, it’s that our families have endured too many struggles. This isn’t a sacrifice—it’s a step toward something better.”

Peppy finally turned away from the window and nodded, though the doubt still sat heavy in his mind.

In the garden, Poppy hesitated mid-swing, as if sensing unseen eyes upon him. He glanced up, locking eyes with his father for a fleeting moment before laughing and diving back into his game.

Peppy exhaled slowly, then turned to follow John out the front door—leaving behind the echoes of childhood laughter and a decision that would shape the future of both families forever.

Chapter Text

16 years later:

Both sprinted down the mansion’s grand staircase as fast and discreetly as possible, one hand gripping the handrail to steady themselves while the other covered their mouths, stifling laughter fueled by the adrenaline of the moment.

“We're going to get caught!” the young man hissed, his voice teetering between excitement and worry. He paused halfway, stealing a frantic glance over his shoulder.

“Only if you keep shouting like that. Come on, we're almost out,” the young woman shot back, amusement dancing in her eyes as she yanked on his hand, urging him forward.

The moment their feet hit the last step, their pace quickened toward the grand entrance. Their ragged breaths echoed in the silent hallway, and the girl's smile stretched wide—victorious, as if freedom was within reach… until a deliberate throat clearing shattered their momentum.

They froze, eyes widening. Slowly, they turned their heads to the right, where a shadowed figure stood beneath the dim glow of the central chandelier.

“And where exactly do you think you’re going at this hour?” an authoritative voice inquired.

The boy swallowed hard. The girl opened her mouth to respond, but her mind had suddenly gone blank.

“Viva… we can explain,” Poppy finally managed, trying to sound convincing.

“Go ahead,” Viva said coolly, arms crossed, one brow arched. “Because last I checked, this was supposed to be a sleepover. Funny, though—I don’t see any pajamas. So, tell me… where were you planning to go?”

Smidge let out a long sigh, watching her plans crumble. “Actually… we were planning to go to a party,” she admitted, her voice small as she cast her gaze to the floor, shoulders slumping in defeat.

Viva’s frown deepened as she studied them both. “Why didn’t you just say so from the start? Why go through all this trouble pretending it was a sleepover?”

“The sleepover isn’t a lie!” Poppy blurted, throwing up his hands in defense. “We’ll be back as soon as the party’s over. Besides, you know that if we told the truth, Dad wouldn’t have let me go.”

“Please, Viva, let your brother have some fun,” Smidge added, putting on her best pleading expression. “I promise to take good care of him—and keep any girls away. We all know Poppy’s already spoken for.”

The boy nodded quickly, reinforcing the idea with wide, puppy-dog eyes—a tactic that rarely failed against his older sister.

Viva exhaled sharply, tilting her head back as if searching the ceiling for patience. “Fine… but you have to be back before Father wakes up.”

“We know!” they chorused, nodding eagerly, excitement bubbling in their voices.

Viva crossed her arms, still not entirely convinced. “Go,” she relented, though her tone remained firm. “But Poppy, you’d better get some sleep when you’re back. Father won’t be pleased if you’re dozing off during your lessons.”

“I understand! Thank you, Veevs!” Poppy beamed before launching himself into a tight hug.

Viva sighed but returned the embrace. Just as she pulled away, she fixed them both with a final, pointed look. “And one last thing… I never saw you leave the mansion.”

“Of course not! You were fast asleep the whole time.” Smidge and Poppy grinned, replying in perfect unison.

As they slipped through the door, Smidge let out a quiet chuckle. “That was close!”

“Too close,” Poppy admitted, exhaling a breath of relief as he glanced at his best friend.

Smidge grinned. “Come on, let’s get to that party before Viva changes her mind!”

At first, Poppy nodded, his steps light with excitement. But before long, his pace began to slow. His thoughts caught up with him, and a slight frown crept onto his face. He sighed, as if trying to shake off a weight he couldn’t quite name.

Smidge tilted her head. “What’s on your mind?”

Poppy hesitated, then shrugged. “I just… sometimes I wish I wasn’t engaged to a complete stranger.”

Smidge studied him, her playful demeanor giving way to quiet concern. “Do you think it would change anything?”

Poppy let out a soft laugh, but there was no joy in it. “Yeah. For one, I’d be free to fall in love.”

Smidge remained silent, watching as Poppy lifted his gaze to the night sky. His magenta eyes shimmered with a mixture of longing and melancholy.

“When we were kids, we used to dream up all kinds of crazy adventures,” he murmured, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. “And I can’t help but wonder what it would be like—to fall in love. I always imagined it like a lightning strike, something so powerful it shakes you to your core. That one moment where you just… know. Where everything changes because the person in front of you is the one you’re meant to share your life with.”

His smile faded, and his voice dropped to something softer, almost resigned.

“If I ever get to feel that way, it would kill me to know I can’t have it. That my life is already decided for me by an arrangement I had no say in.”

Smidge frowned but didn’t interrupt as he continued.

“I don’t even know what she sounds like, Smidge. I don’t know what makes her laugh or what pisses her off. All I know is that because of this agreement, I’m expected to be the perfect husband. Which means extra lessons, learning how to manage money, run businesses… all because apparently, her family owns some massive empire that I don’t even understand.”

Poppy exhaled, staring at the ground before looking back at Smidge. His voice was quieter now. “Can you imagine? Preparing for a future with someone who’s practically a ghost in your life?”

Smidge reached for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe she’s a ghost now, but… who knows, Pop. Maybe you’ll end up finding something good in all this.”

Poppy let out a dry chuckle, but there was warmth in his eyes. “I hope so. Because right now? It just feels like a life sentence.”

The two exchanged a knowing glance before continuing on their way, though Poppy’s words lingered in the air like an unshaken weight. The silence between them felt heavy, yet not unwelcome—just the kind that came when there was nothing left to say, only to understand.

Despite her usual carefree nature, Smidge seemed deep in thought, her expression uncharacteristically serious. Finally, she broke the silence. “Pop, I’ve known you forever, and if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that you’re a dreamer. Maybe you can’t change this right now, but…” she hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “You always manage to find something good, even in the messiest situations.”

Poppy looked up, his magenta eyes reflecting both gratitude and quiet sorrow. “Thanks, Smidge, but… this isn’t something I can fix. It’s out of my hands.”

“Maybe you can’t change it,” Smidge admitted. “But that doesn’t mean you have to stop being you. If there’s anything I’ve learned from you, it’s that you always find light, even in the darkest places.”

Poppy exhaled slowly, but this time, his smile wasn’t so bitter. “I appreciate that you have so much faith in me.”

“Always,” Smidge replied with a reassuring grin. Then, with a playful nudge, she added, “But for now, what do you say we stop brooding and just enjoy the party?”

Poppy hesitated for a second before nodding, shaking off the lingering melancholy. “You’re right. I’m not letting this ruin my night.”

With that, they picked up their pace, leaving behind the weight of their conversation as they stepped into the heart of the party. The lights glowed in vibrant hues, and the music pulsed like a living heartbeat—promising an escape, a moment where worries could fade into the rhythm of the night, if only for a little while.

*************************

Branch watched with delight as her nephew, Bruce Jr., played the guitar with remarkable precision and passion. For an eight-year-old, he was astonishingly skilled, his fingers moving fluidly over the strings as if the instrument were an extension of himself. Every note rang out with a special energy, and in his bright, focused eyes, Branch recognized the same love for music that had shaped so much of her own life. It was a gratifying sight—not just because of his talent, but because she had helped nurture it. Their lessons together weren’t just about technique; they had deepened their bond, creating a connection that spoke through melodies rather than words.

Her quiet moment of pride, however, was abruptly interrupted by a small tug on her hand. She looked down to find LaBreezey gazing up at her, her eyes shimmering with excitement and hope.

“Auntie Branch,” she asked sweetly, “can we play princesses?”

Branch barely had time to process the request before another voice cut in—loud and brimming with enthusiasm.

“Boring! Let’s play with the squirt guns instead!” Rainy declared, already bouncing with anticipation. “That’ll be way more fun!”

Before Branch could respond, a chorus of voices erupted around her. One nephew shouted about superheroes, another insisted on building a cushion fort, while yet another demanded a pirate adventure in the garden. The ideas clashed, each child trying to outdo the others, their excitement escalating into a full-blown storm of competing demands.

Branch’s head darted from one eager face to another, her frown deepening as the noise swelled. She wanted to please them all, but their relentless energy was quickly overwhelming her. How was she supposed to choose when every suggestion was met with another, louder one?

Then, just as the chaos reached its peak, a calm yet authoritative voice sliced through the commotion.

“All right, little tornadoes! Give your Aunt Branch a break.”

Brandy’s presence was like a lifeline in the whirlwind. Instantly, the children—though reluctant—began to settle under her watchful gaze, their arguments tapering off into playful grumbles as they dispersed.

Branch exhaled in relief, running a hand across her forehead as if she had just finished a marathon. “Thank you, Brandy. I really needed that,” she said, offering a tired but grateful smile.

Brandy chuckled knowingly. “Don’t mention it. That’s just life with kids. But you know what? They adore you. To them, you’re the perfect mix of music teacher and playmate.”

Branch tilted her head slightly, touched by her words. “It’s mutual. I love spending time with them... I just wish I were better at keeping up with their energy.”

Brandy grinned and gave her a playful wink. “It’s all about practice. Now, why don’t you sit back and relax? I’ll handle these little monsters for a while.”

Branch sank into the couch with a contented sigh, watching her family with a relaxed smile. Bruce Jr. remained in the corner, fingers dancing over the guitar strings, lost in his own world of melody. Meanwhile, the other kids buzzed around, debating the next game with the same intensity as seasoned strategists.

Despite the exhaustion tugging at her limbs, Branch felt something warm settle in her chest. This chaos—loud, relentless, and unpredictable—was also love in its purest form. Her nephews and niece were a whirlwind of energy, but they were also her inspiration, her joy. A newfound spark lit in her eyes as she pushed herself up from the couch.

“Brandy, you know what? I think I can handle a little more chaos.”

Brandy raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised, but her lips curled into a proud smile. “That’s the spirit!”

Branch turned to the kids, clapping her hands to get their attention. “Okay, listen up! What if we mix all your ideas together? How about… pirate princesses with squirt guns battling superheroes in a fortress of cushions?”

A beat of silence. Then, an eruption of cheers. Without hesitation, Branch dove into the chaos. Laughter echoed through the courtyard as they ran, jumped, and engaged in the most dramatic battles imaginable. There were heroic rescues, daring escapes, and the occasional squabble that always ended in giggles. Even as the sun dipped below the horizon, the energy never wavered—except for Bruce Jr., who remained completely engrossed in his guitar, unfazed by the mayhem around him.

By the time dinner rolled around, the kids were spent, their movements slowing as exhaustion crept in. One by one, they were herded off to bed, their excited murmurs fading into peaceful silence.

Branch collapsed back onto the couch, letting out a long exhale as she closed her eyes. For the first time all day, the house was still.

A few minutes later, a gentle hand rested on her shoulder. She cracked one eye open to see Brandy standing there, a knowing smile on her face as she held out a glass of wine.

Branch took it without hesitation, murmuring a quiet “Bless you.” Brandy chuckled before sinking onto the couch beside her with a weary sigh.

“I don’t know how you do this every day,” Branch admitted, swirling the liquid in her glass as if it were some sort of survival trophy.

Brandy smirked, stretching out her legs. “You get used to it. My little whirlwinds keep me on my toes, but I won’t complain about having backup. It’s nice having you around while Bruce is away.”

Branch nodded, taking a slow sip. “You know you can always count on me. Though, now that you mention it… any idea when JD and Bruce are coming back?”

Brandy hummed in thought. “If I remember correctly… in about three days.”

Branch lowered her gaze, absentmindedly swirling the wine in her glass. The liquid caught the dim light, reflecting the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind.

The silence stretched between them until Brandy broke it with a gentle but direct question. “Want to tell me what's on your mind?”

Branch hesitated, her voice quiet, as if she were speaking more to herself than to Brandy. “It’s just… I wish I could’ve gone with them. It’s not that I don’t enjoy staying here, helping with the kids, but—”

Brandy cut in softly, her tone understanding. “I get it, Branch. I know how hard it is for you to stay back while your brothers are out there, even if it’s just for business.”

Branch let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. “Business trips, which, might I remind you, are part of a family business.”

Brandy studied her, tilting her head slightly. “And you don’t feel like you’re part of that?”

Branch exhaled, taking another sip before answering, her voice thick with emotion. “It’s not that. I know my brothers try to include me in their own way. Clay lets me help with administration and finances sometimes. JD, Bruce, and Floyd have been patient, teaching me about customer service and partnerships. But…” she hesitated, searching for the right words. “You have no idea how much I cherish the rare times John has let me travel with him. Out there, I feel alive—seeing new places, learning, experiencing things firsthand. When I was little, JD used to take me along all the time. But as I got older… those special trips became fewer and farther between. And even if none of my brothers dare to admit it, I can’t shake the feeling that it all changed the moment they decided I needed to become the perfect wife.”

Brandy’s voice was soft, thoughtful. “So what is it you really long for, Branch?”

Branch let out a quiet laugh—one devoid of humor, laced instead with frustration and longing. “I want the chance to have my own adventures, to make my own choices, to write my own story.” She paused, her voice dropping even lower. “Instead of being tied to someone I never chose. To a marriage I never wanted.”

Brandy studied her for a moment, weighing her response. When she finally spoke, her words were careful. “What if… you end up falling in love with that person? I know it sounds impossible now, but maybe, in time, something real could grow.”

Branch huffed a small, bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Love?” she repeated, her tone laced with disbelief. “Brandy, I’m not looking to fall in love—not like this. Not under these circumstances.” Her grip tightened slightly around her glass. “What I really want is freedom. The freedom to choose my own path, to decide for myself who I love and how I want to live. I don’t want my future dictated by someone else’s decisions. I don’t want to be bound to a fate I never agreed to.”

The weight of her words settled heavily between them, lingering like an unshakable shadow. Branch exhaled sharply, then turned to Brandy with a raised eyebrow, her voice laced with dry irony. “Do you know why Bruce always asks me to watch the kids or stay with you?”

Brandy tilted her head, intrigued. “I have an idea, but go on.”

Branch let out a hollow laugh, the sound filled with resignation. “He’s training me—to be a good mother. So when the time comes for me to have my own kids, I’ll already know what to do.”

Brandy’s brow lifted in surprise, but she remained silent, letting Branch speak.

“You know what the worst part is?” Branch continued, her voice quieter now, as if admitting the truth to herself for the first time. “I don’t even know if I want kids… let alone with someone I barely know.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and raw. Brandy studied her, a flicker of sadness and regret passing through her gaze before she finally spoke.

“Branchie…” Her tone was gentle but steady. “For what it’s worth, you’re the best aunt my kids could ever ask for. And I know, without a doubt, that you’d be an amazing mother—even if this isn’t the life you would have chosen.”

Branch gave a small smile, though it barely reached her eyes. “Thanks, Brandy.”

Brandy sighed and leaned forward, placing a comforting hand over Branch’s. “I know it’s unfair. And believe me, I understand your frustration. But you also know why this marriage was arranged. It’s not just about you—it’s about peace, about our families, about stability.” She hesitated for a moment before adding, “I’m not telling you to give up, Branch. You’re stronger than you think. If anyone can find a way to carve out their own happiness in all of this… it’s you.”

Branch released a shaky breath, her tense shoulders easing just slightly at Brandy’s words. “Thank you. For listening… and for telling me the truth, even when it hurts.”

Brandy gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll always be here for you, Branchie. No matter what happens.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. They simply sat together in quiet understanding—two women bound by family, by circumstance, and by the unspoken promise that, no matter how uncertain the road ahead might be, Branch wouldn’t have to walk it alone.

Chapter Text

Poppy couldn't help but nod along, struggling to focus on his father’s words as they faded into the background like a distant echo. The party with Smidge had lasted far longer than either of them had planned, and now Poppy was fighting a losing battle against exhaustion, doing his best to stay awake and absorb the day's lesson.

His eyelids drooped, the weight of sleep becoming impossible to resist. Before he knew it, darkness pulled him under—until a sharp bang shattered the haze. Poppy jolted upright as the sound of a book slamming against the desk reverberated through the office.

“Poppy Beaumont!” Peppy’s scowl was sharp enough to cut. “I expect your full attention. Care to explain why you're falling asleep in the middle of a lesson? What time did you go to bed last night?”

Poppy winced, rubbing the back of his neck as if stalling would somehow help. A faint flush crept up his cheeks—an unmistakable sign of guilt under his father’s piercing gaze. Finally, he sighed in defeat. “I don’t remember, Father. Forgive me. Smidge and I lost track of time.”

Peppy’s expression hardened, but this time his voice dropped, quiet yet unwavering. “That’s unacceptable, Poppy. You have responsibilities. If you can’t balance work and leisure, then I will have to intervene.”

Poppy pressed his lips into a thin line, his gaze lowering to the desk. He knew he was in trouble, but he refused to let slip how much fun he’d had the night before—let alone mention the other friends who had been there.

“I’m sorry, Father. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Silence stretched between them as Peppy studied him, measuring the weight of his words. Finally, he exhaled, his stern features softening just a fraction. “See that it doesn’t. You’re a Beaumont, Poppy. You have a future to build, and that requires discipline.”

Poppy nodded, though a familiar heaviness settled in his chest. Sometimes, he wondered if his future had already been written for him—if being a Beaumont meant he had no real say in it. That pressure, always looming over him, made him long to escape. Just for a moment. Just to forget who he was and what everyone expected him to be.

“Listen, Poppy,” Peppy’s voice was measured, his tone deliberate. “I like Smidge, but if she ever becomes a bad influence on you—or on your future marriage—I won’t hesitate to step in.”

Poppy’s eyes widened in alarm, his words spilling out in a desperate rush, as if sheer speed could prevent the inevitable. “No! I swear this won’t happen again. We’ll both be more responsible, I promise. Please, Father, Smidge is my best friend. You can’t take her away from me—she’s one of the few people I’ve chosen to have in my life.”

Peppy exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable, though his gaze remained sharp. He knew his son was speaking from the heart, but experience had taught him that reckless friendships often led to dangerous distractions.

“Are you certain Smidge is just a friend?” Peppy arched an eyebrow. “Or shall I remind you of the importance of your future marriage to Miss Branch?”

Poppy’s brow furrowed, his offense immediate. “Of course, she’s just my friend! I see her as a sister. Father, you know we’ve been close since childhood—besides, she has a boyfriend, and...” His voice trailed off as something in Peppy’s words snagged his attention. Poppy narrowed his eyes, replaying the sentence in his mind, dissecting the detail that had just been revealed. “Miss Branch?” His tone shifted, laced with suspicion. “So, that’s the name of the woman you’re trying to force me to marry?”

Peppy blinked, clearly caught off guard by his own slip. He cleared his throat quickly, regaining his composure. “Miss Chordwell. I said Miss Chordwell.”

The hasty correction did not go unnoticed. Poppy could feel it—the weight of something unspoken, something his father wasn’t willing to admit.

He let out a sharp breath, leaning back in his chair with a scoff. “Whatever,” he muttered, shaking his head. “At least I got a name.”

Peppy ignored the comment entirely, his attention shifting back to the open book in front of him. “Let's continue with today’s lesson.” His tone left no room for argument, shutting down the conversation entirely.

That night, when Poppy returned to his room, his mind was far from the day’s lessons.

Branch Chordwell. The name echoed in his head like a whisper he couldn't silence. For years, his father had been deliberately vague about the person he was engaged to, withholding even the smallest details. And now, at last, Poppy had a clue—however small it might be.

“Branch...” He murmured, lying back on his bed and staring at the ceiling. Who was she? What kind of person agreed to an arranged marriage with a stranger?

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a soft tapping at the window. Poppy sat up quickly, only to find Smidge outside, flashing him a mischievous, moonlit grin.

He hurried over, pushing the window open. “What are you doing here?” Poppy whispered.

Smidge slipped inside with practiced ease, as if she’d done it a hundred times before. “I couldn’t just leave you alone after what happened with your father. Besides, I had to check on you.” Then, tilting her head playfully, she smirked. “So… did you get punished?”

Poppy sighed. “Not exactly, but it was close. My father is furious.”

Smidge chuckled, giving him a light tap on the shoulder. “Worth it, though, right?”

A reluctant smile tugged at Poppy’s lips. He knew he shouldn't have let the night get out of hand, but deep down, he couldn’t deny it had been fun.

“Only if you help me figure out how to make it up to him.” Poppy shot her a half-smile. “I need to prove I can handle things.”

Smidge held up a finger as if struck by a brilliant idea. “Of course! We’re a team, aren’t we? Besides, we still need to get his permission to go to the music festival in the next town over.”

Poppy’s eyes widened as the realization hit him. He groaned, rubbing his forehead. “I forgot about that. And after tonight? You know it’s going to be nearly impossible to convince him now.”

Smidge merely shrugged, completely unfazed. “We’ll try to do things the right way. But if that doesn’t work out...” She shot him a knowing grin. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time we snuck out of your house, would it?”

Poppy let out a half-hearted laugh—one more nervous than amused. “Yeah, but we’re taking bigger risks every time. If my dad finds out, I don’t even want to imagine what’ll happen.”

“Oh, please.” Smidge waved a dismissive hand. “Your father’s not as bad as you make him out to be. He’s just… demanding.” She winked, as if that somehow made it better.

Poppy shook his head but couldn’t help chuckling at her unshakable optimism. “Still, I don’t want to push my luck too far.”

Smidge folded her arms, deep in thought for a moment before speaking. “What if you give Peppy a reason so good, so convincing, that he can't say no?”

Poppy arched an eyebrow, intrigued. “Such as?”

A slow, mischievous smile spread across Smidge’s face, as if she already had the perfect plan. “Well, your father is always talking about responsibility, right? What if you frame the festival as an educational opportunity? Tell him you want to observe how such a large-scale event is organized. You know, ‘inspiration for the future.’” She smirked. “Since I imagine you'll have to help your wife organize big events now and then. If her family’s business is as important as your father says, they probably throw huge, fancy parties for investors and business partners all the time.”

Poppy blinked, momentarily stunned. “You really think that would work?”

Smidge shrugged, grinning. “No idea. But if we don’t try, we’ll never know.”

Poppy exhaled, ready to argue, but Smidge raised a finger, cutting him off.

“And another thing,” she added, her tone more serious but her playful smile still intact. “You could use his own argument against him—about being the ideal husband.”

Poppy frowned. “How?”

Leaning in slightly, Smidge smirked. “Easy. Tell Peppy that once you’re married to your mystery girl, the chances of enjoying events like this will be slim to none. As the perfect husband, you’ll be too busy making your wife happy, supporting her family’s business, and providing for her every need. So, really, what father wouldn’t want his son to have a little fun before settling down?”

Poppy blinked, then again, as the idea sank in. Slowly, a grin spread across his face. “That’s… sneaky. Very sneaky.”

“I know. That’s why you keep me around.” Smidge winked before hopping to her feet. “So, shall we give it a shot?”

Poppy nodded, determination flickering in his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll try. But if it doesn’t work—”

“Then you know I already have a Plan B.” Smidge smirked knowingly. “I’m not letting you miss this festival.”

Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them before they both burst into laughter. No matter how many obstacles stood in their way, Poppy knew that with Smidge by his side, they’d always find a way through.

***

The next morning, Poppy gathered his courage to present his case to his father. As they ate breakfast in the dining room, Peppy sat at the head of the table, flipping through a stack of papers, fully immersed in his responsibilities.

“Father, may I have a word with you?” Poppy asked, his voice carrying a mix of determination and nerves.

Peppy barely looked up, arching an eyebrow. “Is it important? I'm busy.”

“Yes, I believe it is.” Poppy cleared his throat, willing himself to stay composed. “It's about a music festival—”

Peppy let out a slow sigh, lowering the papers just enough to give his son a knowing look. “Poppy, you already know my answer. Now is not the time for distractions, especially given your recent behavior.”

Poppy clenched his hands under the table, but he kept his tone steady. “I understand, and you’re right—I need to be more responsible. But hear me out. This festival is more than just entertainment. It's an opportunity to learn. I could observe how a large-scale event is organized and gain insights that might be useful in the future.”

At the other end of the table, Viva ate in silence, her eyes darting between her brother and their father. She was clearly intrigued, waiting to see who would win this debate.

Peppy studied Poppy for a long moment. “And how do I know this isn't just an excuse to have fun?”

Poppy took a slow breath, choosing his next words carefully. “Because... once I'm married, I won't have as many opportunities to experience things like this. I want to make the most of my freedom while I still can.”

That seemed to catch Peppy off guard. His posture relaxed slightly as he leaned back in his chair, deep in thought.

“Please, Father.” Poppy pressed on, his voice quieter but earnest. “Just this once.”

The silence stretched, each second dragging on like an eternity. Poppy watched his father’s face, searching for any sign of a verdict.

Then, finally, Peppy set his papers aside and met his son's gaze. “Alright,” he said, his tone calmer. “You can go to the festival.”

Poppy’s eyes widened in disbelief, and across the table, Viva nearly choked on her drink.

“Really?”

“On one condition,” Peppy added, raising a finger. “Since you're calling this an 'educational opportunity,' I expect proof. When you return, I want a detailed report on what you learned.”

Poppy barely suppressed his grin. “Deal! I promise, Father.”

Peppy nodded, though his expression remained serious. “Just remember, this isn’t just fun. It’s a chance to prove you can be responsible. Don’t make me regret this decision.”

“I won’t.” Poppy assured him, already pushing his chair back, excitement bubbling beneath his skin.

Later that day, after breakfast and finishing his lessons, Poppy headed to his room, feeling a mix of relief and satisfaction. He was looking forward to a moment of peace—until he opened the door and spotted Smidge sprawled across his bed, looking entirely at home.

She tossed an apple in the air, catching it effortlessly, and smirked. “Took you long enough.”

Poppy sighed, more amused than surprised. He was long past being fazed by her casual invasions of his space. Shaking his head, he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, absentmindedly running his fingers over the quilt.

“So?” Smidge prompted, propping herself up on her elbows. “How’d it go?”

A slow grin spread across Poppy’s face. “I got permission!”

Smidge shot upright. “No way! I knew you could do it! What did you tell him?”

“I went with the whole ‘educational opportunity’ angle…” Poppy chuckled, then added with mock grandiosity, “and I may have also played the ‘let me enjoy my freedom while I still can’ card.”

Smidge gasped dramatically. “Look at you, pulling the strategic moves! My little Poppy, a master negotiator.”

Poppy puffed out his chest in mock pride before flopping back onto the bed. “Of course! But… there’s a catch.” His tone dropped slightly. “I have to give my father a detailed report on what I ‘learn’ from the festival.”

Smidge snorted. “A report? Please. That’s nothing! Scribble down a few notes, throw in some fancy words, and boom—problem solved. We are not letting paperwork get in the way of fun.”

Poppy laughed, shaking his head. He knew she was right. For the first time in a long while, it felt like he had a say in his own life, and he wasn’t about to waste it.

“You know what?” He sat up, his grin widening. “You’re absolutely right. We’re going to that festival, and we’re going to make every second count.”

Smidge smirked. “Now that’s the spirit.”

Chapter Text

Three days had passed, and Branch, along with Brandy, found themselves anxiously awaiting the return of Branch's older siblings. In the kitchen, Brandy kept the little ones entertained, encouraging them to experiment with different ingredients in hopes of surprising their father with their culinary progress. Meanwhile, Branch lay sprawled on the couch, absorbed in a book, savoring the rare moment of peace.

The sudden sound of the door swinging open shattered her concentration.

Branch immediately set the book aside and sprang to her feet, excitement surging through her—only for her enthusiasm to evaporate the moment she saw who had arrived. Her smile faded into a dramatic grimace of disappointment.

“Oh. It's just you,” Branch said, crossing her arms and arching a brow.

Clay scoffed, visibly offended. “Excuse me? Oh, I love you too, little sis!” he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm as Clay stepped closer, fingers twitching mischievously.

Branch’s eyes narrowed as she quickly stepped out of reach. “Don't even think about it,” she warned.

But Clay only grinned. “You’ll always be a baby in my eyes,” he teased. Then, shifting gears, he glanced around expectantly. “So… John and Bruce still not here?”

Branch shook her head and smirked. “Nope. You got here first. Hence my disappointment.”

Clay let out an exaggerated laugh, raising his hands dramatically. “Oh, hilarious. You should really consider stand-up.”

Before Branch could fire back, another voice chimed in. “Looks like we beat those two.”

She turned toward the doorway, her expression instantly brightening at the sight of Floyd leaning against the frame, amusement dancing in his eyes.

With a delighted squeal, Branch launched herself at him. “Flo Flo!”

Laughing, Floyd effortlessly lifted her off the ground in a brief but warm embrace. “Hello, my beautiful sapphire. Miss them that much?”

Branch pulled back, nodding. “Of course! But don’t tell them, or they’ll never let me live it down.”

Clay folded his arms and huffed. “Wow. No warm welcome for me? Am I not your favorite anymore?”

Branch shot him a smug look. “You never were. Flo Flo’s always been the best.”

Clay clutched his chest in mock devastation. “Unfair!”

Their playful exchange was interrupted when Brandy appeared in the living room, her children trailing behind her, each carefully balancing a tray filled with… something.

“Alright, alright, there’ll be plenty of time for hugs,” Brandy said with a knowing smile. “For now, our little chefs have a surprise for you while we wait for John and Bruce.”

Laughter filled the room as everyone gathered around the table, the warmth of family making the wait for the older brothers feel less long.

As the children proudly set their trays down, Brandy folded her arms, beaming. “Don’t tell them I said this, but I think we have a couple of future chefs in the house.”

Branch leaned in, inspecting her nephews’ so-called masterpieces—cookies that were slightly misshapen, their uneven surfaces drowning in layers of sugar and sprinkles. They sparkled more like jewelry than actual food.

“Well… they look interesting,” Branch said diplomatically, carefully choosing her words.

Clay burst out laughing. “Now that is some top-tier diplomacy. Come on, sis, give it a try!”

Branch hesitated before picking up a cookie, taking the smallest possible bite. A tidal wave of sweetness hit her instantly, making her whole face scrunch up. But with sheer willpower, she swallowed and forced a smile. “They're… great! So great!” Branch naged to say, her voice slightly strained. The kids giggled excitedly, thrilled with her reaction.

Just then, the distant rumble of an engine caught everyone’s attention.

Branch’s head snapped toward the window, her heart leaping. “It must be them!”

Without waiting for confirmation, she dashed to the door and yanked it open. There they were—John and Bruce, standing with broad smiles and luggage in hand.

“Finally!” Branch exclaimed, launching herself at them.

John caught her effortlessly, lifting her off the ground as if she were still a little girl. When she moved to Bruce, her enthusiasm nearly knocked him off balance.

“Hey, easy! I do need my ribs intact,” Bruce teased with a laugh.

John smirked as they stepped inside. “And to what do we owe this grand reception?”

Branch shrugged, feigning nonchalance. She’d never admit out loud just how much she missed them when they were away—or the quiet happiness that settled in her chest now that the family was whole again.

Leaning casually against the wall, Clay let out an exaggerated scoff. “Ah, of course. Branch loves everyone but me.”

Branch turned to him, grinning. “Exactly.”

Clay clutched his chest in mock heartbreak as the room erupted with laughter. As the family gathered in the living room, John and Bruce began pulling small gift bags from their suitcases.

“We brought something for everyone. We couldn’t come back empty-handed,” John said with a grin.

The little ones squealed with excitement, rushing forward as Bruce handed out toys and candy they had picked up on their trip. Brandy received a delicate necklace, Clay a book he had mentioned in passing months ago, and Floyd a sleek black leather jacket adorned with personalized details.

Branch hesitated as she turned her attention to the small gift in her hands—a box wrapped with careful precision, a ribbon tied neatly around it. Her pulse quickened with anticipation as she gently untied the ribbon and lifted the lid.

Inside, nestled in soft velvet, lay an exquisitely crafted locket. It was octagonal, its polished surface etched with intricate patterns, as though it held a secret only time could unravel. Vibrant hearts decorated its face, each color representing one of her siblings—the bold yellow of Clay, the deep magenta of Floyd, the rich forest green of JD, and the regal purple of Bruce. At the center, a blue gemstone shimmered, as if capturing a piece of the night sky—her color, unmistakably. Silver filigree framed the piece with delicate precision, whispering of something ancient, something more than just an ornament. It wasn’t just jewelry. It was them.

With trembling hands, Branch pressed her fingers against the cool metal and carefully opened the locket. A small photograph lay inside, faded slightly at the edges but still full of life. It was them. Five muddy, grinning children, frozen in time after an afternoon of mischief. She could almost hear their laughter echoing from the past.

Then, before she could fully absorb the moment, a soft melody began to play. The first notes of True Colors floated into the air, gentle and familiar. The sound wrapped around her like a warm embrace, making her breath catch as a shiver ran down her spine.

“Are you serious?” Branch whispered, her voice trembling between laughter and emotion.

Bruce shrugged, though his smirk betrayed his satisfaction. “We thought you might like something sentimental.”

Branch looked up at them, her eyes shining. “Like it? I love it,” she said, her smile radiant. “This is perfect.”

The evening continued with laughter, jokes and anecdotes from John and Bruce's trip. The family was complete, and the home was full of life.

The evening carried on with laughter, teasing, and stories from John and Bruce’s trip. The house felt whole again, filled with warmth and life. But as night settled in, so did exhaustion. The siblings knew John and Bruce needed rest after their long journey. The goodbyes were brief but full of affection.

John, Clay, Floyd, and Branch stepped outside, where John's trusty truck—affectionately named Rhonda—waited for them.

“I’m calling shotgun!” Branch announced, dashing toward the passenger seat.

The others chuckled and shook their heads, not even bothering to argue. Once everyone was inside, John started the engine and began the short drive home.

When they arrived, John parked in front of their house and turned off the engine. Just as Branch reached for the door handle, John raised a hand, stopping her.

“Wait a sec, Bluebell,” he said softly, using the nickname he’d given her years ago.

She frowned but stayed put. In the backseat, Clay and Floyd exchanged a knowing glance—whatever this was, they understood it was important. Without a word, they got out of the truck and headed inside, leaving John and Branch alone.

John exhaled deeply, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced with quiet seriousness. “Brandy talked to Bruce and me,” he said, watching her closely. “She told us about the conversation you two had.”

Branch stiffened. Her gaze dropped to her hands, which nervously toyed with the hem of her shirt. “Forget it,” she muttered. “It doesn’t matter.”

John wasn’t about to let it go. He reached over, gently but firmly taking her hand in his, forcing her to meet his eyes. “It does matter,” he said, his voice steady. “Your feelings always matter, Bluebell.”

Branch swallowed hard. Emotion shimmered in her eyes, but she refused to let it spill over. “Maybe,” she admitted, barely above a whisper. “But it’s not like you can just override my engagement, right?”

John’s grimace was immediate. He shook his head slowly. “No,” he said, his voice heavy. “You’re asking for the impossible. But I can do something else.”

Branch finally looked up, searching his face for answers. Despite everything, she had always seen John as more than just a big brother—he was the closest thing to a father she had ever known.

“What?” Branch asked cautiously.

John squeezed her hand, his determination unmistakable. “I can let you join Clay and Floyd on their next business trip.”

Branch blinked. Confusion flickered across her face before excitement started to bubble up. “...What?” She asked again, as if making sure she had heard him correctly.

John smirked at her reaction. “There’s a music festival coming up,” he explained. “We’ve been invited as one of the businesses selling products. I was originally going to send just Clay and Floyd to handle it. But if you want to go—”

“Yes!” Branch cut him off, her excitement spilling over.

John chuckled, shaking his head. He hadn’t even finished his sentence, but Branch's answer was already clear. The way her face lit up made it all worth it.

“In that case, I’ll talk to Floyd and Clay and make sure they take good care of you,” John said. “Bruce and I will stay here, handling the company while you enjoy the festival.”

Branch crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “You make it sound like I’m a walking disaster or constantly in trouble.”

John chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I know that when you set your mind to it, you behave better than Floyd and Clay combined. But that’s not what worries me.” His expression softened. “I’m worried about how beautiful you are, Bluebell—and what certain boys or girls might try when they see you.”

Branch groaned, rolling her eyes. “Oh, come on. You’re being dramatic.”

“I don’t think so,” John said, smirking. “And I’m not just saying it because you’re my baby girl.” Then, with a playful wink, he added, “Remember, I’m completely honest with Clay about how ugly he is.”

Branch let out a burst of laughter, unable to hold it back. Without hesitation, she threw her arms around John in a tight hug. “Thank you. Really. But I can take care of myself, you know. I don’t need Clay or Floyd as bodyguards.”

John hugged her back just as tightly, though he was careful not to squeeze too hard. “I know,” he murmured. “But that doesn’t mean I stop caring.”

As she pulled away, Branch looked up at him with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Relax. It’s not like I’m going to fall in love with someone at the festival. You’re worrying over nothing.”

John met her gaze, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Maybe. But festivals have a way of being unpredictable. Just… be careful, my beautiful little Bluebell.”

Branch scoffed, but her smile lingered. “What could possibly happen? It’s just a festival.”

Still, as she turned away, a quiet excitement stirred in her chest. A trip. A festival full of music. And—just for a little while—an escape from the weight of her engagement. For the first time in weeks, she felt a spark of hope.

*************************

Smidge and Poppy finished packing their luggage into the trunk of Poppy’s car, ready to hit the road for what promised to be an unforgettable festival. A whole week of music, freedom, and the best companionship—for Poppy, that was pure happiness. Saying he was excited would be an understatement.

“All set to go?” Viva asked, leaning casually against the garage door frame, arms crossed and a knowing smile on her face.

Poppy nodded enthusiastically, casting a final glance at the overloaded trunk. “I've been ready for hours! Smidge is the one who packed as if we were disappearing off the map for a month.”

Smidge spun around, hands on her hips, her brow furrowed in indignation. “Excuse me, who is carrying my luggage? Not you. Your car is carrying it. So shut up.” She huffed. “I'd rather have extra stuff than run out of hair products when I need them. Or worse—borrow clothes.”

The Beaumont siblings burst out laughing. Viva shook her head, still grinning. “She’s got a point, Poppy. You never know when a music festival might turn into a surprise fashion show.”

Smidge beamed, slamming the trunk shut. “Exactly! Gotta be ready for anything. But enough about luggage—if we keep standing here, the festival will be over by the time we get there.”

“You're right!” Poppy said, turning to Viva to give her a quick peck on the cheek before making a dash for the driver’s seat.

But before he could get far, Viva gently caught his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “Smidge, can I have a word alone with my brother before you leave?”

“Of course,” Smidge said, raising her hands in mock surrender. “I’ll be in the car.” With a knowing smile, she slid into the passenger seat and rolled up the windows, giving them privacy.

Poppy, slightly confused, turned to his older sister. “What do you want to talk about?” he asked, tilting his head.

Viva released his wrist and cupped his cheeks, her gaze soft and full of affection. “It’s just… I’m so happy to see you like this. It’s been years since I’ve seen that spark in your eyes.”

Poppy smiled warmly, though his eyes flickered downward for a moment. “Of course I’m happy, Viva. But you know… it’s not always easy to be super-duper happy—not with everything weighing on me.”

Viva arched an eyebrow. “The burden of responsibility… or the mystery of your future wife?”

Poppy let out a short, almost bitter laugh. “A little of both.”

Viva’s expression turned serious as she met his gaze. “Look, I won’t pretend I fully understand what you’re going through. But I need you to know this: it’s okay to be upset, to feel frustrated. That’s normal. But you also have the right to carve out your own path in the middle of this madness.”

Poppy hesitated before whispering, “And how am I supposed to do that?” as if afraid of the answer.

Viva’s smile was reassuring. “Don’t let the destiny Father chose for you define who you are. Maybe you can’t escape this marriage, but that doesn’t mean you have to lose yourself. You have something special—something no expectations or traditions can take away. Hold onto that, no matter what.” She kissed his cheek. “And for now, let it go. Enjoy the festival, your freedom, Smidge… and the open road. I’ll handle the report—just send me pictures and videos.”

Poppy hugged her tightly, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, Veevs. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my little gentleman.” She ruffled his hair before stepping back. “Now go—get in that car and live this week like there’s no tomorrow.”

With a final nod, Poppy hopped into the car. Viva made her way to the passenger side and tapped on the window, drawing Smidge’s attention. The smaller girl immediately rolled it down.

“Take good care of my little brother, okay?” Viva said.

Smidge smirked and winked. “Believe me, I’ll do it better than you.”

Viva crossed her arms, feigning concern. “You packed enough insect repellent, right? I don’t want mosquitoes ruining your trip.”

From the driver’s seat, Poppy laughed. “Smidge packed enough to wipe out every bug in the country.”

“You’re exaggerating!” Smidge protested, swatting his arm playfully.

“Tell that to your suitcases,” Poppy teased, grinning.

Viva watched them with a warm smile. As the car rolled away, she lifted a hand in farewell, whispering, “Have fun, kids.”

Inside the car, excitement buzzed in the air, almost tangible. The ride began with music blasting from the speakers, their laughter spilling out of the open windows and carried away by the wind. Smidge had taken over the stereo, ensuring every song was a certified hit, crafting the perfect soundtrack for their adventure.

“We have to get there early for the main stage!” Poppy exclaimed, gripping the steering wheel with enthusiasm. “They say there’ll be fireworks, and I am not missing them.”

“Neither am I!” Smidge shot back, just as eager, as she studied the festival map sprawled across her lap. It was covered in annotations and doodles—circles and highlights marking their must-see spots: the main stage, food stalls, activity zones, and, of course, the merchant booths.

With every passing kilometer, they weren’t just getting closer to the festival—they were chasing the freedom Poppy craved. The car surged forward, their conversation weaving between nostalgic memories and bold new plans. For both of them, this trip wasn’t just an escape from routine; it was a promise of adventure, of stories waiting to be written, of unexpected moments that could change everything. The week ahead would be unforgettable. As the sun rose toward the horizon, painting the sky in warm hues, Poppy felt it in his heart—this was going to be more than just a vacation. And sitting beside him, Smidge felt it too.

With the engine roaring, they sped toward the unknown, ready for an experience that would be etched into their memories forever.

Chapter Text

Branch stood with her arms crossed, leaning against the garage door frame as she watched her brothers scramble back and forth, frantically ensuring everything for the concession stand was ready. Boxes of decorations, carefully packed music products—everything had to fit into Rhonda, John's beloved truck.

Her older brother had surprisingly offered them the use of Rhonda for the trip to the festival, an unusual gesture given how protective he was of his "baby." Sometimes, Branch felt like she was competing with that truck for first place in JD’s heart—not that he’d ever admit it.

The scene before her was pure chaos. Clay, list in hand, attempted to keep order, though his sharp tone only seemed to heighten the tension. Bruce, meanwhile, was locked in a heated debate with him over which boxes should go first, all while clutching a last-minute, hastily designed sign.

Branch could have stepped in to help, but she preferred to watch from the sidelines, amused by the spectacle of her brothers stressing each other out. Someone had to keep a cool head, after all. With the faintest of smirks, she scanned the scattered items still outside. Without a word, she discreetly began loading Rhonda with everything her brothers had overlooked.

“Branch, couldn't you do something more useful than just standing there?” Clay grumbled, hands on his hips.

Branch arched an eyebrow, unmoving. “I am doing something useful—making sure you don’t forget anything essential. Like that box of instruments you almost left behind.” She nodded toward the truck, where she had already stowed it.

Floyd chuckled as he adjusted a box in the back seat. “She’s got a point, Clay. At least someone here is using their head.”

“Oh, please,” Clay scoffed, rolling his eyes before turning back to his list with an exasperated sigh.

With the last box finally loaded, John appeared in the garage, scanning every inch of Rhonda with a scrutinizing gaze. “If anything happens to my baby, you three are going to wish you’d never been born,” he warned. His tone was light, but the glint in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t entirely joking.

“Relax, JD. Rhonda's in good hands,” Floyd assured him with an easy grin as he climbed into the passenger seat.

John crossed his arms. “I hope so.”

Clay double-checked his list one last time before giving a nod of approval. Satisfied that everything was in place, he slid into the driver’s seat. Rhonda’s engine rumbled to life, ready for the journey ahead.

Branch approached Bruce first, giving him a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek before turning to John Dory. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace.

“Thank you, JD. Thank you for letting me take this trip,” she said, her voice thick with gratitude.

John hugged her just as fiercely, closing his eyes for a moment as he gently stroked her hair. “You deserve it, Bluebell. Though, I won’t lie—I’m dying of nerves thinking of you out there on your own. But yes, you do deserve it.”

Branch pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, offering a reassuring smile. “I know how to take care of myself, JD. You don’t have to worry so much.”

“Maybe not, but Floyd and Clay have strict orders to look out for you. So don’t get mad if they act a little overprotective. I want you to have fun, but I need you to be safe.”

Branch rolled her eyes with a smile. “John, I’ll be fine.”

He exhaled slowly, nodding, though the concern in his eyes lingered. “I know, Bluebell. But just remember—while I do want you to enjoy the festival, the main reason for this trip is to sell and promote our business. So be our best salesperson out there.”

Branch let out a light laugh. “Got it. I won’t forget.”

John’s expression grew more serious, though a faint smile still played on his lips. “That also means you can’t let any man or woman distract you, no matter how attractive they are.”

Branch arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Was it really necessary to mention both sexes?”

“It is when I know my baby girl is bisexual.”

Branch let out an incredulous laugh. “I still can’t believe Floyd went to you with that old gossip.”

“Actually, it was Clay who accidentally overheard one of your conversations. And for the record, that ‘old gossip’ just gives me more reason to stress about someone catching your eye. Just remember—you’re already engaged.”

She shot him a look, a mix of amusement and defiance, tilting her head slightly. “So what? Brides have the right to have fun before they get married. We are living in modern times, JD, where some brides don’t even show up vir—”

“Branch Chordwell!” John interrupted, his voice rising in shock. “I don’t need details! Don’t give me details! Please, just stop before I start thinking we didn’t protect you enough—and trust me, you won’t like the result. You're going to turn my hair gray, and I'm way too young to be dealing with that!”

Branch placed a hand over her heart, feigning remorse. “Sorry, Dad,” she said, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “And just so you know, I was kidding. There’s no one in my life for you to worry about, I swear. No need to go all extra overprotective on me. I mean, I barely have a social life. I just love getting on your nerves.”

John let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair as if trying to steady himself. “One day, Bluebell… one day you’re going to pay me back for all this anguish.”

Branch flashed a mischievous grin before pulling him into one last hug. “I love you, JD. Relax—everything’s going to be okay.”

Clay honked from the car, cutting through the moment. “Time to go!”

Branch climbed into the backseat while Bruce made a few last-minute adjustments to the luggage. Once everything was in place, he stepped back, giving them the all-clear.

John stood by, watching as Rhonda slowly rolled down the road. His expression was a mix of pride and lingering concern.

As they drove off, Branch settled into her seat, her gaze drifting to the passing scenery. A strange feeling stirred inside her—this trip wasn’t just about work or a chance to unwind. Something was going to change. She just didn’t know what yet.

“You all right back there, my beautiful sapphire?” Floyd asked, catching her eye in the rearview mirror.

Branch grinned and leaned forward. “Perfectly. Let’s go conquer that festival.”

*************************

“Let me know when we're close to the hotel. I need a break from all this driving before I go exploring,” Poppy said, his eyes fixed on the road.

“We’re almost there!” Smidge replied enthusiastically. “I found an amazing hotel—right by the beach and only a ten-minute walk from the festival. And you know what the best part is? There’s a beach party on the last night. Obviously, we’re going!”

“Of course!” Poppy exclaimed, his smile evident in his voice. “We’re here to have fun, and I refuse to waste this little taste of freedom. By the way, how much was the hotel room?”

Smidge shot him a mischievous grin. “No idea. I just let your card work its magic.”

Poppy let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Why am I not surprised? Sometimes, I can’t tell if you’re my friend because you love me… or because you love my money.”

“Hey!” Smidge playfully smacked his arm. “I’ve known you since you were sucking your thumb, and back then, I couldn’t steal a dime from you. So shut up—I obviously love you. And for the record, I’d still pick you as my best friend, rich or not.”

Poppy reached over, giving Smidge’s hand a firm but affectionate squeeze, his eyes never leaving the road. “I know. And I’d choose you as my best friend in any life.”

Smidge fell silent for a few moments, gazing out the window as the landscape shifted from urban streets to the open coast. The scent of salt drifted into the car, carried by the breeze, while the setting sun bathed everything in a golden glow.

“You know something,” Poppy said, his voice softer now. “It's been a long time since I’ve felt like I could breathe—really enjoy my free time without worrying about boring lessons or obligations.”

Smidge chuckled, still looking out the window. “Yeah, you were long overdue for a break. But promise me something.”

Poppy glanced at her. “What’s that?”

“For this whole week, no responsibilities, no stress, no overthinking. We’re going to relax, dance, and laugh until our stomachs hurt.”

A slow smile spread across Poppy’s face, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Deal. Now, find us some good music to celebrate our little escape.”

Smidge flipped through the radio stations until she landed on an upbeat, ridiculously catchy song. The moment it blasted through the speakers, they burst into laughter. It was absurd, but somehow perfect. As the music filled the car, the road stretched ahead like an invitation, winding along the ocean, the waves rolling in sync with their laughter.

By the time they arrived at the hotel, it was even more charming than Smidge had promised. The white building, accented with sky-blue shutters, had a vintage elegance that stood out against the golden hues of the setting sun. In the distance, the rhythmic crash of waves completed the dreamlike atmosphere.

After checking in, they headed up to their room. The moment Poppy stepped inside, he dropped his suitcase unceremoniously and collapsed onto the nearest bed with a deep sigh of contentment. “Now this is the life,” he murmured, his face sinking into the pillow as Smidge watched in amusement.

“You’re like a kid on his first day of vacation,” Smidge teased, unzipping her bag. “I’ll let you rest while I get ready, but once I’m done, you better move, because I’m not missing a second of the festival.”

Poppy lifted a lazy hand in acknowledgment, his voice muffled against the pillow. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, boss.”

Smidge rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling as she headed to the bathroom, humming the tune from the car ride.

Left alone, Poppy closed his eyes for a moment, letting the salty breeze drift in through the open window. He wasn’t tired—just content. But instead of relaxing, his mind buzzed with excitement. He could already picture the festival: the lights, the music, the electric pulse of a night waiting to unfold.

By the time Smidge emerged, looking effortlessly put together, Poppy was already sitting up, running a hand through his hair in a half-hearted attempt to tame it.

“Ready!” he declared, jumping to his feet with renewed energy. “Come on, before you start lecturing me about punctuality.”

Smidge smirked, satisfied. “That’s the spirit. See? I’m shaping you into someone who actually cares about being on time. Your future wife will thank me.”

Their laughter blended with the sounds of the city as they stepped out of the hotel. The air was thick with the scent of salt and distant food stands, carrying an invigorating freshness. Ahead, the sun dipped into the horizon, setting the sky ablaze in gold and orange. The energy of the festival was already palpable—glowing lights, lively music, and the laughter of people weaving toward the same destination.

When they arrived at the festival, the energy was electric. The entire place was bathed in a warm, golden glow, with garlands of fairy lights strung like constellations overhead. Vibrant stalls lined the paths, offering everything from handcrafted jewelry to sizzling, exotic street food. Musicians and performers filled every corner with life, their melodies and tricks adding to the festival’s dreamlike atmosphere.

“This is amazing,” Poppy murmured, spinning slowly in place to take it all in.

Smidge grinned, looping her arm through his. “Told you. This place is pure magic. Now, come on!” She tugged him toward a row of tents. “I want to see what we can learn before the concerts start.”

They dove into the workshops, laughing as they painted t-shirts, strung seashell necklaces, and attempted some basic dance steps. Smidge, ever the perfectionist, insisted her necklace was the best, while Poppy dramatically criticized her choice of clashing colors.

“It looks like a rainbow exploded on it.”

“It’s called art, Poppy. You wouldn’t understand.”

Afterward, they wandered through the festival, sampling bite-sized portions of local delicacies—crispy empanadas, sweet coconut pastries, and spicy grilled skewers. Eventually, they grabbed a pair of colorful drinks, each adorned with a tiny paper umbrella and fresh fruit slices.

“This tastes like a vacation in a glass,” Smidge declared, raising hers in a toast.

Poppy clinked his against hers with a smirk. “To our getaway. And to not having my father breathing down my neck for a whole week.”

“Cheers to that!” Smidge laughed, taking a sip.

As they continued exploring, the sky deepened into velvety twilight, and the festival lights flickered to life, casting a dreamy glow over everything. The distant hum of conversation gave way to the rising pulse of live music, and all eyes turned toward the main stage, where performers were setting up under a wash of golden spotlights.

Smidge nudged Poppy, her eyes gleaming. “Ready to dance until we can’t feel our feet?”

Poppy took a slow sip of his drink before flashing a mischievous grin. “Is that a challenge? Because you know I’m not going down without a fight.”

They shared a knowing look before bolting toward the stage, their laughter mixing with the buzz of the growing crowd. The music swelled, the rhythm irresistible, and as they lost themselves in the night, one thing was certain—this was only the beginning.

Chapter Text

Branch let out a satisfied sigh as she admired the small music stand before her. Every detail had been carefully arranged, and now, bathed in the warm glow of the evening light, the space seemed to come alive. She and her brothers had arrived a day early to ensure everything was set up perfectly for the festival. John Dory had been clear—their main goal was to promote and sell their instruments. Branch had no intention of letting him down.

That morning, she had worked alongside Floyd and Clay, decorating the stand, arranging the instruments with care, and hanging a handmade sign that proudly read: "Brozone & Sis Beats – Unique, Custom Instruments." Every piece, from the hand-carved guitars to the drums adorned with bold patterns, was displayed to catch the eye.

With the setup complete, they had taken a short break at the hotel, knowing the real challenge lay ahead. By late afternoon, the festival grounds began to buzz with energy as crowds poured in. The vibrant colors of their stand and the soft melody of Floyd’s guitar drew curious customers, their eyes lighting up as they admired the craftsmanship.

As the festival crowd thickened, the day grew more chaotic. Clay, being the oldest, decided it was the perfect time for a break, leaving Floyd and Branch to handle the booth.

“You two sure you can handle this?” he teased, flashing a smug grin before strolling off.

“Please, we're way more competent than you,” Floyd shot back with a confident smirk. Branch just rolled her eyes, amused.

The next several minutes were a whirlwind—customers testing instruments, inquiring about prices, placing custom orders. Floyd handled the demonstrations, skillfully drawing people in with smooth melodies, while Branch managed sales and organized requests. Despite the rush, they worked seamlessly, closing several big deals.

When the last customer finally walked away, they both collapsed into their chairs behind the stand, exhausted but triumphant.

Branch glanced at Floyd, a victorious grin on her face. “You're keeping track of what we’ve sold, right?”

Floyd lifted a small notebook, waving it proudly. “Of course! I’d rather not get a lecture from Clay when he gets back.”

But before Branch could reply, Floyd's attention suddenly snapped to something behind her. Without a word, he leaned forward over the counter, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Branch, come here,” he murmured, nodding toward something—or someone—of interest.

She frowned but moved closer, following his gaze.

“Look over there.” Floyd subtly gestured toward a red-haired young man casually sipping his drink while browsing a nearby stand. “What do you rate him? Solid nine, right?”

Branch let out a chuckle, crossing her arms. “Seriously, Flo Flo? Wasn’t John supposed to tell you to look out for me?”

Floyd rolled his eyes dramatically. “Please, my sapphire, looking isn’t a crime. Besides, if I thought a pretty face was enough to make you fall head over heels, you’d be locked in a cage under my 24-hour surveillance.”

Branch laughed, shaking her head. “You're impossible.”

Floyd gave her an affectionate smile and draped an arm around her shoulders. “I know you, and I know you're not the type to fall in love at first sight. We've made sure you understand that love goes far beyond appearances—it’s about real connection.”

His words lingered between them, a quiet moment of shared understanding. Neither spoke, simply enjoying the unspoken bond. Floyd was the one to break the silence.

“So… what's your score?”

Branch cast another glance at the red-haired guy before shrugging with an amused smirk. “Seven. Not my type.”

Floyd chuckled, leaning against the counter, his gaze still fixed on the stranger. “Glad to see you still have standards. Though, if you ask me, the guy’s got an interesting vibe.”

Branch shook her head, fighting back a smile. “Are we here to sell instruments or rate festival-goers?”

“Why not both?” Floyd shot back with a broad grin, nudging her shoulder. “You never know—maybe the love of my life is wandering around this festival.”

Branch raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Whatever you’re imagining, Flo Flo, I promise it’s not happening.”

“Oh, come on! Have a little faith in me,” Floyd protested.

Their lighthearted moment came to an abrupt halt when Clay cleared his throat. Arms crossed, brows furrowed, he fixed them with a disapproving stare.

“I was this close to congratulating you on all the sales you made while I was gone,” he said. “But then you had to ruin it by talking about boys.”

Floyd scoffed. “Oh, come on, Clay. We were just appreciating someone’s looks. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal,” Clay shot back, “is that our sister is engaged. Branch shouldn’t have the time—or the interest—to be admiring anyone else's beauty.”

Branch raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No, Branch. It’s already a lot that John let you come on this trip. That doesn’t mean you should forget your responsibilities.”

“Clay—” Floyd started, but Branch cut him off.

“Are you seriously lecturing me about responsibility right now?” Her voice was calm, but there was an edge to it—controlled, yet sharp enough to make Floyd lean back slightly, as if sensing an incoming storm.

Clay exhaled, holding his ground. “It’s not a lecture. It’s a reminder that John Dory trusts you and expects you to act accordingly. What do you think your fiancé would say if he knew you were checking out other guys? Do you really think that would make him trust you as a good wife?”

Branch let out a short, bitter laugh. “Oh, right. Because nothing screams trust like being engaged to a complete stranger.” She shook her head. “You know what’s funny, Clay? Neither John nor Bruce have reminded me of my so-called ‘responsibilities’ since we got here. You’re the one who keeps bringing it up.”

Floyd raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture, trying to defuse the tension. “Guys, maybe we should—”

“No, Floyd. Let him talk.” Branch cut in, turning to Clay with her arms crossed and a defiant look. “If you're going to call me irresponsible, at least have the guts to say when I’ve actually been irresponsible.”

Clay hesitated, but his expression remained firm. “Branch, this isn’t about judging you. It’s about protecting you. What you do, what you say… it has consequences.”

Branch let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Protect me? From what? From living a little before my entire future is mapped out for me? From feeling like I actually have some control over my own life, even if it’s just for a few days?”

A heavy silence followed. Floyd, visibly uncomfortable, decided to step in with a nervous smile. “Okay, how about we all take a deep breath? We made good sales, everything’s running smoothly—maybe we just call this a win and move on, yeah?”

Branch exhaled sharply, her shoulders relaxing slightly, but her eyes remained locked on Clay.

“I just want space, Clay. I don’t need you to agree with everything I do, but at least trust that I take my responsibilities seriously.”

Clay’s stance softened, the tension in his posture easing as he finally lowered his arms. “I just want what’s best for you, Branch. And if I’m not the most subtle about it, it’s because I care.”

Branch held his gaze for a long moment before nodding slowly. “I know. But caring about me doesn’t mean controlling me.”

Floyd let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, his grin returning. “So does this mean we can stop arguing and focus on selling more stuff?”

Branch and Clay exchanged a look—no smiles, but a quiet understanding passed between them. They both knew this argument wouldn’t fix everything, but at least, for now, it was enough.

Floyd seized the moment. “Why don’t you go explore for a bit, my sapphire? You’ve earned it.” His voice was light, but the meaning was clear—he wanted to keep things from escalating again.

Branch nodded, grateful for the out. “Good idea. Let me know if you need anything.”

She strode away from the stall, trying to shake off the tight knot of frustration in her chest. Branch clenched and unclenched her fists as she walked, forcing herself to breathe. She loved her brothers, but sometimes, they got on her nerves like no one else.

So caught up in her thoughts, Branch didn’t notice the person heading straight for her—until it was too late.

A sudden collision.

A cold splash.

“Oh, come on!” Branch groaned, staring down at the wet stain spreading across her shirt.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry!” a nervous voice stammered.

She looked up to find a pink-haired boy with magenta eyes, holding an empty cup and wearing an expression of pure guilt.

“Really?” Branch deadpanned, shaking off the excess liquid.

The boy stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck. “Really! I swear I didn’t mean to. I was distracted—my friend went to the bathroom, and I was looking for her, but that doesn’t matter now. Can I do anything to help?”

Branch shot him a skeptical look before sighing. “Unless you’ve got a spare shirt on you, I don’t see how.”

He seemed to consider it for a second before offering a sheepish smile. “I don’t have an extra shirt, but there’s a souvenir stand a couple of rows over. Let me buy you something.”

Branch folded her arms. “And why should I let you do that?”

The boy lifted his hands in surrender. “Because this was completely my fault, and I’d feel awful if I didn’t make it up to you.”

She studied him for a moment before exhaling sharply. “Fine. But don’t think for a second this means I’m not annoyed.”

“Noted.” He grinned, nodding toward the stand. “C’mon, I promise it’ll be quick.”

As they walked together, Branch found her irritation slowly fading. Despite her initial frustration, there was something about the boy’s carefree energy and easy smile that made it hard to stay mad. She wasn’t sure why, but somehow, he was getting past her guard.

“I'm Poppy, by the way,” he said, flashing a friendly grin as he extended a hand.

“Bran… Brandy. My name is Brandy,” Branch replied, hesitating before blurting out the fake name. For some reason, giving this stranger her real one didn’t feel right.

“Nice to meet you, Brandy. And again, sorry for the mess,” Poppy said, handing her a newly purchased T-shirt.

Branch accepted it with a shrug. “At least you made it right.”

Poppy’s smile widened, but his gaze lingered on her, something unreadable flickering behind his magenta eyes. It was as if he wanted to say something more but was struggling to find the words. When Poppy realized she had caught on, he blinked and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Hey, um… there’s gonna be fireworks at the main stage tonight, and—” He hesitated for a second before mustering a hopeful smile. “I don’t know, would you like to join us?”

Branch blinked, caught off guard by the invitation. For a brief moment, she considered saying yes. But then, like an unwelcome shadow, Clay’s voice echoed in her mind—reminding her of her responsibilities, of her engagement, of the life already mapped out for her. The thought of accepting felt like stepping over a dangerous line, one she wasn’t sure she was ready to cross.

Branch exhaled quietly and forced a polite smile. “I’m sorry, I… I have to get back to my… friends,” she said, hating the awkwardness in her own voice.

For a split second, disappointment flashed across Poppy’s face. He quickly masked it with a nod, though his usual enthusiasm seemed a little dimmed. “I get it. Actually, I should go find my best friend too.”

Branch gave him one last look before turning away. “Goodbye, Poppy.”

“Goodbye, Brandy,” he replied, his tone light—but as Branch walked away, she didn't catch his quiet whisper to himself. “I really hope I see you again.”

Branch walked away with firm steps, determined to ignore the tight knot forming in her chest. But as she moved through the bustling festival, the energy of the crowd barely registered. That brief encounter—however insignificant it should have been—had stirred something inside her, something she couldn't quite name.

Back at the booth, Floyd immediately noticed the change in her. He arched an eyebrow, smirking as he took in her new shirt.

“So, how was your little escape, sis? And what happened to your clothes?”

Branch shot him a glare before tossing the other T-shirt onto a nearby chair. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

Before Floyd could pry further, Clay, who had been going through inventory, approached with an unusually sheepish look. His voice was softer than before, carrying genuine regret.

“Branch, I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t know what it’s like to have so much responsibility weighing on me the way you do. I shouldn’t have acted like I did. Do you forgive me?”

Branch rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. Without a word, she opened her arms. Clay didn’t hesitate—he pulled her into a tight hug, even lifting her slightly off the ground.

When they finally pulled apart, Clay grinned. “Well, I say we close up early tonight. The three of us should go explore a little. I heard there’s going to be a fireworks show at the main stage.”

Floyd, immediately on board, began packing up in record time. Branch sighed, but despite herself, she nodded. Soon, the booth was closed, and the three of them set off into the heart of the festival.

That night, the air near the main stage buzzed with excitement. The crowd swayed with anticipation, waiting for the fireworks to begin.

Branch stood among them, her gaze fixed on the stage lights, but her mind was elsewhere. Brandy. The name still felt foreign on her tongue, a reminder of the lie she had told to a stranger she might never see again. And for some reason, the idea of that unsettled her more than Branch wanted to admit.

A few feet away, caught up in laughter and playful banter with Smidge, Poppy was trying his best to enjoy the moment. But no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept drifting. He could still picture her—the girl with sapphire eyes, sharp wit, and an edge that made her unforgettable.

As the first firework streaked across the sky, both of them instinctively looked up at the same time, their gazes unknowingly drawn to the same dazzling burst of color.

They had gone their separate ways. Yet, beneath the glow of the fireworks, something unseen, something unexplainable, still connected them—like an invisible thread tying their fates together.

And perhaps, just perhaps, fate wasn’t done with them yet.

Chapter Text

Smidge frowned at her best friend as they walked back to the hotel. The starry night was beautiful, something to be admired—but her mind was elsewhere, tangled in Poppy’s absent expression. This trip was supposed to be an escape, a chance to unwind, relax, and enjoy their freedom. But something was weighing on him, something serious enough to pull him deep into his thoughts and worry Smidge.

She finally broke the silence. “What's got you so preoccupied, huh?”

No response. Poppy kept walking, eyes distant, as if he weren’t even there.

Smidge narrowed her eyes. “Beaumont!” she snapped, her tone sharper this time.

Poppy flinched, blinking as if waking from a dream. “Huh? What’s the matter?”

“That’s what I want to know,” she said, crossing her arms. “You’ve been too quiet, and that’s not like you at all.”

Poppy sighed heavily, gaze drifting away. “It’s nothing, Smidge.”

Smidge abruptly stopped, planting herself in front of him, hands on her hips, brows furrowed. “Poppy, we made a promise.”

His eyes widened. “I didn’t break the promise!” he blurted, lifting his hands in defense. “I was just… thinking. That’s all.”

Smidge arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Then tell me—what are you thinking about?”

Poppy hesitated. He swallowed, glancing away. “I… I’m not sure how to say this.”

Smidge didn’t push, but she didn’t step aside either. Arms crossed, she waited, wearing the mix of patience and stubbornness only a best friend could.

Poppy let out a nervous laugh, twirling a lock of his pink hair between his fingers. “It’s just… You’re going to kill me.”

Smidge frowned, visibly confused. “Why would I do that? Did you go and replace me with a new best friend?”

Poppy chuckled, shaking his head. “Never. You’re one of a kind, Smidge. And luckily for me, you’re my best friend.”

“Then spill it,” she pressed, eyes narrowing. “What did you do?”

Poppy hesitated, his fingers tightening around the strand of hair before he sighed. “You remember when you left me alone to go to the bathroom?”

Smidge nodded slowly, still puzzled. “Of course I remember. I had a hard time finding you afterward, but I wasn’t gone that long. What could possibly have happened in that short time, Poppy Beaumont?”

He let out another nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Promise you won’t kill me.”

Smidge huffed, rolling her eyes. “I promise. Now talk.”

Poppy exhaled as if shedding a heavy weight and finally blurted out, “I finally understand what the characters in my romance books mean when they talk about love.”

Smidge’s brow furrowed. “What?”

Poppy glanced up at the starry sky, searching for the right words. “When they describe what it feels like to see someone for the first time, I always thought they were exaggerating. But now I get it. The heart stopping. The electricity rushing through you like a lightning bolt. The feeling that the whole world is falling apart and, at the same time, making perfect sense—because that person is right there in front of you.” He swallowed hard before finally saying it. “I think… I think I’ve fallen in love at first sight.”

Smidge's face paled instantly. “I need you to explain—right now—what the hell happened while I was gone.”

As Poppy recounted his brief but intense encounter with the sapphire-eyed stranger, Smidge’s expression shifted—from confusion to amusement, and finally, to outright terror.

“Poppy, you can't be serious!” she exclaimed, panic creeping into her voice. “You're engaged! You can't fall in love with someone else!”

Poppy looked down, visibly embarrassed. “I know, Smidge. Believe me, I know. But it wasn’t something I planned. I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s like… she ignited something in me. Something I didn’t even know existed.”

Smidge grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a firm shake. “Listen to me, Poppy Beaumont! You have a responsibility to your fiancée—even if she feels like a stranger to you now. She’s going to be your partner, your life partner. Whatever you felt today, it was just a moment of weakness. A passing thrill. You can't let it get in the way of what you have to do!”

Poppy held up his hands in surrender. “I won’t, Smidge! But please, calm down. It’s not like I’m about to go running after Brandy—”

Smidge’s eyes narrowed. “Brandy?”

A flicker of excitement crossed Poppy’s face. “Yeah… and she has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”

Smidge rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smirk. “More beautiful than mine?”

Poppy giggled. “I’m sorry, Smidge, but… yes.”

Her smile faded as she squared her shoulders. “All right, then. Tell me about Brandy. Tell me everything. Maybe talking it out will help you realize you’re not in love. And by the end of this, I promise you, we’ll see it for what it really was—a fleeting moment of weakness.”

Poppy hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Thanks, Smidge.”

He took a deep breath and began to describe her. As they walked toward the hotel, Smidge listened intently, her usual teasing absent. On the surface, Poppy kept a neutral expression, but inside, a knot tightened in his chest.

“Her hair was like a dark river under the moonlight—straight, but with soft waves at the ends. And those eyes… Smidge, they were like sapphires. Deep, sparkling, but filled with something I can’t quite explain. Something that made me feel small and huge at the same time.”

Smidge interrupted gently. “Did you talk to her?”

Poppy let out a nervous laugh and nodded. “I, uh… spilled my drink on her. Completely by accident. It was a disaster.” He shook his head at the memory. “To apologize, I bought her a T-shirt from one of the stalls. Seemed like the least I could do, right? Then I tried inviting her to watch the fireworks with us, but she turned me down.” His voice softened. “And that’s what has me so confused, Smidge. How can someone I barely met make me feel this way?”

Smidge suddenly stopped in her tracks, forcing Poppy to turn toward her. Her expression was serious—almost stern.

“Poppy, do you hear yourself? You don’t know anything about Brandy. You don’t know what makes her happy, what makes her cry, or who she even is. What you’re feeling? It’s not love. It’s fascination. It’s the idea of something, not reality. Real love—it’s built. It doesn’t just happen at first sight.”

Poppy met her gaze, letting the words sink in. After a moment, he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I guess you’re right…”

Smidge smirked, triumphant, and playfully punched his arm. “Of course I’m right! Now hurry up—I’m exhausted, and I need sleep before you find another way to get yourself into trouble.”

Poppy let out a small laugh, and they continued walking toward the hotel, wrapped in a silence that was not awkward but reflective.

Smidge stole a glance at her best friend, her brow creased slightly. Poppy had always been impulsive, emotional—someone who wore his heart on his sleeve. But this… this was different. More complicated. And for the first time, Smidge wasn’t sure how to protect him from himself.

Beside her, Poppy walked with his gaze lost in the sky, where the stars shimmered with a calm he didn’t feel. He knew Smidge was right—he agreed with her. And yet, "Brandy’s" eyes kept flashing through his mind, lingering like a melody he couldn’t stop humming.

*************************

“You wanted to see me?” John asked as he took a seat across from the man behind the desk.

Peppy nodded slightly, raising his coffee cup to his lips. His gaze drifted toward the window, lingering on the view for a moment before finally settling on John. “I'm surprised your sister isn't keeping you company today.”

John arched an eyebrow. “My little Bluebell doesn’t follow me everywhere. She has a life of her own, you know,” he replied evenly.

Peppy offered a faint smile. “You're right.”

John leaned back, arms crossed. “So? What did you want to see me about, Peppy?”

A dry chuckle escaped Peppy as he folded his hands on the desk. “And who gave you permission to address me so informally?”

John leaned forward, his eyes locked onto Peppy's. “I earned it the day the contract was signed that bound our families together.”

Peppy gave a small nod of acknowledgment.

“Where's your son, anyway?” John asked, relaxing into his chair.

“Living his life, just like your little sister,” Peppy replied. Then, with a pointed look, he added, “Though I do hope Branch is conducting herself like a respectable young lady.”

John's expression darkened as he folded his arms. “I assure you, my daughter will live up to the Beaumonts' expectations. I trust you understand that the Chordwells expect the same from Poppy?”

Peppy’s lips curled slightly, pride gleaming in his eyes. “But of course. I’ve groomed Poppy from an early age to be an exemplary husband. That is not in question.”

John held his gaze, his tone firm. “And I can say the same for Branch.” Then, exhaling sharply, he added with growing impatience, “Now, I insist—why did you call me here?”

Peppy set his cup aside and interlaced his fingers, his gaze fixed on John with a mix of seriousness and calculation. “I believe it's time for our little ones to finally unite in marriage.”

John raised his eyebrows, momentarily caught off guard, before letting out a wry chuckle. “You were hesitant about the arrangement before, and now you want to rush the wedding?” He leaned back, folding his arms. “Might I remind you, they only recently came of age. What changed your mind?”

Peppy shrugged with measured ease. “This alliance has proven its strength. Consolidating it now isn’t just logical—it’s strategic.”

John exhaled slowly, turning Peppy's words over in his mind. He wasn’t wrong. The pact between the Beaumonts and the Chordwells had never been about sentiment; it was a carefully crafted agreement designed to ensure power and stability for both families. But that didn’t make the weight on John’s shoulders any lighter.

“I understand the significance of this,” John admitted. “But let’s not forget—we’re dealing with real lives, not just strategies.”

Peppy gave a slow nod, his gaze sharp. “Of course. And that’s why I’ve prepared Poppy. He knows his duty. The question is—is Branch ready?”

John’s jaw tightened at the subtle challenge, but he kept his composure. “Branch has never failed to meet expectations. This time will be no different.”

A satisfied smile crossed Peppy’s face as he leaned back. “Then we’re in agreement. It’s time to take the next step.”

John rose from his chair, exhaling through his nose. “We are. I’ll speak to Branch as soon as she returns from her business trip.”

Peppy studied him carefully, his sharp eyes measuring every nuance of John's expression. “I knew I could trust you to handle this with tact.”

John didn’t respond right away. Instead, he strode toward the door, pausing just before stepping out. Without turning, he spoke in a quieter voice. “This deal is important, Peppy. But so are our children. Don't forget that.”

He didn’t wait for a response. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Peppy alone in the dim office.

Outside, John exhaled a slow, heavy breath, his gaze dropping to the floor as his brow furrowed. The weight of responsibility pressed down on him, growing heavier with each step. He wanted nothing more than to protect his little girl’s smile—but he knew the moment Branch, Clay, and Floyd returned from their trip, that smile would fade.

His fists clenched at the thought, a pang of guilt stabbing deep in his chest. The choices he had made in the name of family… Were they truly the right ones?

John inhaled sharply, forcing himself to stand straighter. Worry clung to him like a shadow, but he kept walking, his steps steady despite the turmoil inside him.

One thing, at least, was certain—his little Bluebell had always been strong. No matter what life threw her way, Branch found a way through.

Even a marriage she had never asked for.

Chapter Text

Branch finished serving her fifth customer of the day, sending him off with a polite smile. The afternoon had passed quietly, the festival’s bustle still subdued, though she knew it would pick up as the sun dipped lower and music filled the air. As the customer disappeared into the crowd, she turned her attention to Clay, who was comfortably settled in the corner, nose buried in a book.

“What are you reading?” Branch asked, tilting her head to catch the title.

Without looking up, Clay answered in a distracted tone, “The book John and Bruce gave me. It’s been on my list for a while, but I finally found time to start it.”

Branch crossed her arms, eyeing him with mild amusement. “And you’re not tempted to do something more exciting? You could explore the festival, like Floyd. Or get out of here and wander the city—maybe even stumble upon a bookstore or something to break the monotony.”

Clay calmly closed his book and raised an eyebrow at her. “And leave you alone with all this? That doesn’t sound very responsible.”

Branch let out a small laugh, gesturing broadly at the nearly empty stand. “Clay, look around. There’s barely anyone here. I think I can manage for a few hours.”

He frowned, unconvinced. “What if, the moment I leave, hordes of customers suddenly appear and you find yourself trapped, alone, and overwhelmed?”

Branch rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. If that happens, I’ll call you and Floyd, and you two can rush back to heroically save me—just like the amazing brothers you claim to be. But honestly? I doubt that’ll be necessary.”

Clay was silent for a moment, weighing her suggestion with visible skepticism. Sensing his hesitation, Branch went in for the final push.

“So? Don’t you want to quit your babysitting job for a while and actually enjoy yourself like everyone else?”

Clay narrowed his eyes. “That almost sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

Branch let out a light laugh. “Actually, I’m hoping to ditch you so I can find a boyfriend while you’re gone,” she quipped, watching his reaction with amusement.

Clay arched a brow, unimpressed. “Ha ha.” He crossed his arms. “Watch me laugh at your little joke.”

Branch grinned, shrugging. “Hey, I was born to be the smart and sarcastic princess of the family, not the funny one.”

With a sigh, Clay stood up, setting his book down on the table. “Alright, snarky princess. I’ll go for a walk. But if anything happens, you call me. And no trying to get yourself a boyfriend while I’m gone, got it?”

Branch winked. “Sure thing, Clay. I’ll be a role model.”

Clay shook his head as he walked away, muttering something under his breath. Branch watched him disappear into the crowd with a satisfied smile. “Finally, a little peace and quiet,” she thought.

But her moment of respite didn’t last long. She had barely begun to savor the silence when a group of customers swarmed the booth, filling the air with renewed energy and chatter. Branch exhaled, rolling her shoulders as she braced herself for the rush.

After handling the last customer of the group, Branch reached for her phone and quickly typed out a message to John, just to check if everything was in order. With a quick tap, she sent it.

She hadn’t even had time to put her phone away when a pair of familiar voices drifted closer. Looking up, she started to offer a mechanical greeting—but the words caught in her throat as she recognized the magenta-eyed boy standing in front of her.

Poppy's face lit up with surprise, his expression quickly morphing into a bright, excited smile.

“Brandy!” he exclaimed.

Branch blinked, regaining her composure. A small, restrained smile curved her lips. “Poppy.”

Beside him, Smidge glanced between them, her initial confusion sharpening into something far more suspicious. Smidge hadn't forgotten what she overheard the night before about Brandy. To her, this girl was a problem. She knew all too well that her best friend still harbored complicated feelings toward Brandy—feelings that neither Viva nor Mr. Peppy needed to know about.

“And I’m Smidge,” she cut in curtly, arms crossed as she studied the girl behind the counter, her gaze scrutinizing, almost disarming.

Branch shifted her attention to Smidge, immediately recognizing the distrust in her stance. She frowned ever so slightly but reminded herself that she was at work—she couldn’t afford to be provoked. Forcing a polite smile, Branch asked,

“Hello. What can I do for you?”

Smidge held her gaze, clearly ready to snap back with something sharp, but before she could, Poppy spoke up, oblivious to the silent standoff. He was too wrapped up in the excitement of their unexpected reunion.

“What are you doing here, Brandy?”

Branch shrugged, her tone calm. “I work here. So, how can I help you?”

Smidge was still eyeing Branch with a mix of suspicion and disapproval, but Poppy, ever warm and oblivious, didn’t seem to pick up on the tension.

“It’s amazing to see you again!” Poppy beamed, his magenta eyes practically sparkling.

Branch let out a light, almost teasing laugh. “Really? Why? Planning to throw another drink on me?”

Poppy’s face instantly flushed, and he scratched the back of his neck, clearly flustered. Smidge, meanwhile, raised an eyebrow, glancing between them with newfound curiosity, intrigued by their dynamic.

“I—uh—sorry again for that,” Poppy mumbled, looking properly embarrassed.

Branch shrugged, her tone casual but laced with mischief. “Don’t worry. I know it was an accident.” This time, her smile was more genuine, though it flickered away as she subtly glanced around, as if making sure no one was paying them too much attention. Then, slipping seamlessly back into professional mode, she asked, “So, are you just browsing, or are you actually here to buy something?”

Smidge seized the pause to deliver her venom. “Oh, so you finally remembered you’re supposed to be selling things. I’d like to buy a pick for my boyfriend—unless, of course, you’re too busy flirting with my best friend.”

Poppy’s head snapped toward her, his expression darkening. “Stop,” he said, his voice carrying a clear warning.

Branch’s eyebrows shot up, clearly caught off guard. “Excuse me? I… I don’t—” She inhaled sharply, steadying herself before continuing in a measured tone. “I assure you, I’m not flirting with anyone.” Her face remained neutral, but there was a tightness to her voice. “Your best friend and I were simply having a conversation. But hey, let me show you where I keep the picks.”

Branch stepped out from behind the counter, her posture firm, though her hands trembled slightly as she unlocked a small display case at the side of the booth.

“Here they are. We’ve got several models—wood, metal, and these custom-designed ones.”

Smidge approached slowly, suspicion still evident in her gaze. She picked up one of the picks, inspecting it as if her life depended on it. But she couldn’t resist twisting the knife.

“What a coincidence, huh? Yesterday, Poppy ‘accidentally’ threw a drink at you, and now—just when we thought we’d never see you again—you magically turn up running a festival booth.”

Branch shut the display case with a little more force than necessary and straightened, leveling Smidge with a calm but pointed stare. Her expression was composed, but her eyes carried a flicker of annoyance.

“Life is full of surprises,” Branch said, her tone cool and controlled. “Anyway, if you need anything else, let me know.”

The sharp edge in Branch’s voice didn’t go unnoticed by Poppy. Uncomfortable with the growing tension, he decided to step in before things escalated.

“Smidge, please. That’s enough.” His tone was firm, carrying both reproach and quiet pleading.

Smidge let out a snort, slapped the payment down without another word, and stalked off toward another stall.

Poppy lingered, his gaze filled with a mix of apology and concern. “I’m really sorry about that,” he said sincerely. “She’s not usually this rude—”

Branch cut him off with a casual shrug, brushing it aside. “It’s okay, Poppy. Don’t worry about it.”

A brief silence settled between them, but Poppy, unwilling to let things end on such a sour note, took a small step closer.

“How about after your shift, you come with us to one of the concerts?”

Branch arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “I don’t think your best friend would be too thrilled about that idea.” Her lips curved into a wry half-smile.

Poppy sighed, clearly frustrated but not ready to back down. “I’ll talk to Smidge. I’m sure you two can clear the air—”

Branch shook her head, cutting him off gently. “I appreciate it, Poppy, but I’m really busy right now.” She nodded toward a pair of approaching customers. “So unless you're planning to buy something else, you might want to go check on your best friend. Have a nice day.”

Her tone remained professional, but a faint chill in her voice made Poppy hesitate. He took a small step back, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

“Okay...” he murmured, lowering his gaze before turning to leave.

Branch watched out of the corner of her eye as he disappeared into the crowd, his figure fading into the festival’s glow and shadows. She exhaled quietly, willing away the swirl of emotions tightening in her chest. A flicker of guilt surfaced—dismissing him like that had been harsh. Smidge had been the one out of line, not him.

But then again, Smidge’s comment still lingered in her mind.

“Flirting?” Branch scoffed inwardly. “That wasn’t flirting. We were just talking. Simple conversation.”

Yet, no matter how many times she replayed the moment, she couldn’t shake the memory of Poppy’s gaze—intense, lingering, different. And that alone made her uneasy.

She knew that if Clay or Floyd had seen her talking to a stranger like that, the questions would start. They always did.

“John didn’t send me here to make friends,” Branch reminded herself as she turned to the next customer with a practiced, professional smile. “I need to focus and avoid unnecessary problems.”

Just as her thoughts threatened to spiral again, a small vibration in her pocket jolted her back to reality. Branch pulled out her phone and saw a new message from Floyd.

“On my way back. Hope you didn’t let things get too crazy without me. Also—I’ve got some hot gossip for you. You’re gonna love this one.”

A relieved sigh escaped her, and for the first time all afternoon, a genuine smile tugged at her lips. Whatever tension Branch had been carrying loosened just a little. With Floyd back, at least she wouldn’t be alone. And if his so-called “hot tidbit” was as juicy as he promised, it might just be the perfect distraction from everything that had happened with Poppy and Smidge.

Branch slipped her phone back into her pocket with a decisive motion and straightened her posture, forcing her focus back on the customers still arriving at the booth.

“Focus.” She commanded herself, though a small voice in the back of her mind whispered that ignoring what had happened wouldn’t be so easy.

The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the sky in warm hues. As she attended to the last of the afternoon’s customers, a nagging thought refused to leave her alone.

“Why do I keep thinking about him?”

Something about Poppy lingered in her mind—his warm smile, the sincerity in his voice, the way he had tried to smooth things over. It unsettled her. And as much as Branch wanted to believe their meeting had been a one-time coincidence, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t.

Another customer approached, pulling her back to the present. But as Branch handed them their purchase, the thought remained, firm and unshakable.

“This isn’t over,” she realized. “And, for better or worse... I don’t think this will be the last time I see Poppy.”

Chapter Text

Poppy strode toward Smidge with unwavering determination. She was casually browsing the stalls, oblivious to his presence—until he seized her arm in a firm grip that left no room for protest. Without a word, he dragged her toward a quieter corner, ignoring her complaints and futile attempts to pry herself free. Poppy wasn’t letting go until they had privacy.

Finally, satisfied they were out of earshot, he released her. His expression was a storm of disappointment and anger.

“What the hell was that?!” Smidge snapped, her frown a mix of confusion and irritation.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Poppy shot back, his tone sharp. “What was that disgusting behavior toward Brandy?”

Smidge blinked, her initial bewilderment hardening into cold indifference. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb!” Poppy’s voice rose, his fists clenching at his sides. “I need an explanation, Smidge. Because no matter how much I try, I can’t think of a single valid reason for what you did.”

Smidge folded her arms, exhaling a long, reluctant sigh. “I'm sorry,” she muttered, the words dragging as if they physically pained her.

Poppy let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You're sorry? I'm not the one who deserves an apology—Brandy does. And you’d better turn around and apologize to her right now.”

“Well, I don’t intend to!” she shot back, her voice rising for the first time. Her eyes gleamed with wounded pride, defiance simmering beneath the surface.

The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating. Poppy finally broke it, his voice lower but just as firm. “Why? What's holding you back? It's not that hard to say 'I'm sorry' when you know you're wrong.”

Smidge’s jaw tightened, her body wound like a rope about to snap. “Because I don’t think I was wrong,” she said at last, stubbornness lacing her voice.

Poppy stared at her in disbelief. “You treated her horribly! What could Brandy have possibly done to deserve that?”

Smidge hesitated, her gaze skittering away from Poppy’s. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.” He stepped closer, his voice softer but no less serious. His eyes searched hers, demanding answers. “Give me a reason, Smidge. Something—anything—to help me understand why you acted this way.”

“Because I’m afraid!” Smidge suddenly burst out, her voice cracking with emotion.

Poppy blinked, thrown off. “Afraid?”

She nodded, looking away, as if unable to withstand the intensity of his gaze. “Afraid you’re being used. Poppy, you’re a Beaumont. That name means something to people—it carries power, money. What if Brandy is taking advantage of you?”

Poppy’s disbelief only deepened. “That makes no sense—”

“Of course it does!” Smidge cut him off, stepping toward him, her expression fierce. “Who’s to say Brandy isn’t a gold digger? No one knows you’re engaged to Branch. You’re not immune to women seeking you out for your wealth.”

A frustrated laugh escaped Poppy, part exasperation, part amusement. “That logic doesn’t hold, because Brandy never sought me out. We met by accident.”

Smidge arched a skeptical eyebrow. “And how can you be so sure? What if she orchestrated it?”

“Smidge, if you’d seen her, you’d know that’s ridiculous. She was furious. Honestly, I was lucky she didn’t kill me on the spot.” Poppy let out a small laugh, recalling his first encounter with the sapphire-eyed girl. “I offered to help because it was the right thing to do. And besides, I remind you that after the accident, I invited her to join us—but she refused.”

“So?”

“So if Brandy was after my money, she wouldn’t have turned me down. She didn’t even give me her number. We only ran into her again today by pure chance. If we hadn’t, she’d just be a passing memory.” Poppy sighed, his voice tinged with something almost wistful.

Smidge frowned, her gaze fixed on the ground as if searching for answers in the dirt. Finally, she murmured, “I suppose you're right...” She hesitated, biting her lip before adding, almost in a whisper, “But that's not the only thing I'm afraid of.”

Poppy studied her carefully, his eyes narrowing. “No?”

Smidge shook her head, still avoiding his gaze. “No...” She exhaled heavily before continuing, “I saw you with her, Poppy. The way you looked at that stranger—it made me question everything I told you yesterday.” Her voice wavered. “Because you were looking at her with love.”

Poppy’s eyes widened, caught off guard, but he said nothing. He let Smidge speak.

“I don’t understand how that’s possible. You barely know her, and yet...” Smidge finally lifted her head, her eyes clouded with worry. “Poppy, think about it. Do you have any idea what could happen if Viva or your father found out about this?”

Smidge’s words hit Poppy like a stone sinking in his chest. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he struggled to find the right response.

“They don’t have to know,” he said at last, his voice calm but carrying a quiet plea. “Whatever happens with Brandy… it doesn’t have to be a problem.”

“And what if it does?” Smidge pressed, her voice unsteady. “Poppy, this is your father we’re talking about. He doesn’t forgive mistakes—especially when they come from a Beaumont.”

“I know...” Poppy admitted, his shoulders slumping. “But I can’t ignore what I feel.”

Smidge took a step closer, her frustration bleeding into desperation. “Then tell me, Poppy. What do you feel?”

For a long moment, he was silent, his gaze drifting somewhere far beyond her. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he answered,

“I feel like I love Brandy. That if I give myself the time to know her… I could finally be myself. I could be happy with her.”

Smidge stared at him, torn between pity and exasperation. “I wish I could say I’m happy for you,” she said, her voice tight. “But let me remind you, Poppy—you’re an engaged man.”

Poppy sighed, nodding slowly as he stared at the ground in deep thought. After a few moments of silence, he looked up at Smidge—his lips curling into a mischievous smile that instantly set off all her alarms.

“What?” Smidge asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“We agreed that for the duration of the festival, we'd forget about all our worries and responsibilities, right?”

“Aha…” Smidge drew out the word, clearly wary.

“So, technically, that means I can forget I’m an engaged man for this week, right?”

“Poppy, that’s not what I meant—”

He didn’t let her finish. His grin widened, bright and triumphant. “You have to find the loopholes in agreements and use them to your advantage. My father always says that. And I hate to break it to you, Smidge, but you gave me just enough wiggle room to get close to Brandy.”

Smidge gaped at him, completely dumbfounded. “Okay, first of all, I have to admit—your father’s lessons are really sinking in,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “And second, when we made that promise, you didn’t even know Brandy. I never imagined this would happen!”

Poppy shrugged, letting out a small laugh. “Not my problem. Come on, don’t be like that. Lots of people our age have summer flings. We don’t because, well… my situation. And you, because you fell for Milton the second you laid eyes on him. Although, now that I think about it—”

Smidge cut him off with a sharp growl, shooting him a withering glare. “Don’t you dare compare Milton to that stranger, Poppy Beaumont, or I swear I’ll beat you to a pulp.”

Poppy threw up his hands in mock surrender, laughter escaping his lips. Smidge just rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she waited for him to continue.

“As I was saying,” Poppy resumed, slipping back into his carefree tone, “lots of people have summer flings. So why not me? Why not a festival romance?”

Smidge gave him a look like he had just said the most idiotic thing in the world. “That—” she huffed, “is going straight onto my list of the most ridiculous things you’ve ever said.”

Poppy only laughed, pulling her into a tight hug, knowing full well he had just won this little battle.

Smidge hesitated at first but eventually returned his embrace with a sigh. When she pulled away, the playful energy between them faded, her expression turning serious.

“Listen, Pop, seriously.” She crossed her arms. “Don’t mess around with this idea. You know it could end badly. Feelings are involved, and—don’t forget—you have commitments to keep.”

Poppy’s smile softened, replaced by something more vulnerable. “Smidge, please... just let me be completely happy this week.” His voice carried an earnest plea. “When we get home, I’ll go back to my routine without a word of complaint. But before I get married, I need you to be my accomplice in one last adventure.”

Smidge sighed, watching him with a mix of resignation and affection. After a moment, she nodded. “Fine.”

“Really?” Poppy asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Yes, Pop, really.”

Before she could say another word, Poppy lifted her off the ground in a tight hug, spinning her around like they were kids again.

“Could you put me down already?” Smidge growled, though the amusement in her voice betrayed her.

“Only if you promise to apologize to Brandy,” Poppy said with a mischievous grin, tightening his hold just a little.

Smidge let out a frustrated grunt but ultimately sighed. “Fine. I will. Now put me down—my feet miss the ground.”

Poppy chuckled, satisfied, and carefully set her back on her feet.

“Sometimes I feel like you take advantage of our height difference,” Smidge remarked, raising an eyebrow as she looked at him with amusement.

Poppy shrugged, his grin never fading. “I'm tall, you're strong. That makes us even. But don’t change the subject—you still need to apologize to Brandy.”

Smidge rolled her eyes with a snort. “Fine, I will. And I promise to behave around her, because judging by the way things are going, Brandy’s going to be a recurring presence in our lives… at least for the rest of the festival.”

Poppy beamed. “Thanks, Smidge. You’re the best friend in the world.”

She arched an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. “Am I really? Or are you just saying that because I’m doing what you want?”

Poppy laughed. “You really are. And besides, don’t act like you don’t get your perks. You take advantage of the fact that I have money, and you don’t see me complaining.”

Smidge gasped, clutching her chest as if deeply offended. “Low blow, Beaumont! Low blow!”

Poppy doubled over with laughter, struggling to catch his breath.

“Relax, you know I’m kidding,” he said between chuckles. “Besides, I couldn’t live without you. I love you too much.”

Smidge smiled, this time without a trace of sarcasm. “I know. I love you too, idiot.”

For a brief moment, they stood in comfortable silence, their bond unspoken but undeniable. Then, the distant sound of laughter and music from the heart of the festival broke the quiet. Smidge nudged Poppy lightly.

“Alright, since I’m your accomplice, what’s the plan?”

Poppy turned to her, eyes gleaming like a kid about to embark on an adventure. “Simple: You apologize to Brandy. And this time, we convince her to spend time with us.”

Smidge groaned, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “I swear, if your ‘simple plan’ gets us into trouble—”

“Me? Trouble? Never.”

They both burst into laughter as they made their way back to the musical instrument stand. With every step, Poppy’s excitement grew, as if the air itself buzzed with possibility. His hope felt almost tangible, radiating from him like a force all its own.

“By the way,” Smidge said, snapping Poppy out of his thoughts, “how can you be so sure Brandy's interested in you?”

Poppy frowned, considering the question. “That doesn’t matter right now. First, you need to apologize so she and I can actually spend more time together.”

Smidge stopped short, her gaze shifting toward the musical instrument stand. “Well… looks like Brandy’s already got someone keeping her company.”

Poppy followed her line of sight. There, at the stall, stood Brandy—the sapphire-eyed girl—leaning in close to another guy. They seemed absorbed in conversation, their heads tilted toward each other as if sharing a secret.

Poppy’s brows furrowed. “He must be a friend. Brandy mentioned she came with a group.”

Smidge smirked. “Are you sure?”

“Smidge! Quit messing around and go apologize to her. I’ll wait here.”

She let out an exaggerated groan, tilting her head back before rolling her eyes. “Fine, I’m going… Damn it!”

Poppy tensed. “What now?”

“It looks like Brandy saw us… and she’s running away.”

Poppy’s head snapped back to the stall just in time to see Brandy whisper something to her companion before turning on her heel and hurrying off.

His stomach clenched. “Then what are you waiting for, Smidge?! Go after her and apologize!”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Smidge huffed before taking off after the sapphire-eyed girl.

Poppy didn’t hesitate—he was right behind her.

Chapter Text

Branch leaned against the counter, her head resting on her hand as she watched her brother approach the booth, his smile so bright it could’ve lit up the entire place. She shook her head when Floyd caught her gaze, which only made his grin widen. He quickened his pace, closing the distance between them with the urgency of someone carrying a secret too good to keep.

Once they were face-to-face, Floyd tilted his head to one side, his mischievous grin making Branch raise an eyebrow.

“Well?” she asked, folding her arms as he simply stood there, brimming with restrained excitement.

“Well, what?” Floyd replied, feigning innocence, his magenta eyes twinkling.

“Are you going to tell me, or are you just planning to stand there acting mysterious all day? You promised gossip.”

Floyd let out a laugh and, without warning, threw an arm around Branch’s shoulders, pulling her close as if to whisper a secret. She stiffened—not because she wasn’t used to his exaggerated displays of affection, but because she knew he was deliberately dragging this out.

“You know I love you, right?” Floyd said, his tone mockingly serious.

“Yes, yes, I do. Love you too. Now, are you telling me or what?” Branch replied, turning her head just enough to meet his gaze with impatient expectation.

Floyd leaned back slightly but kept his arm draped over her. His eyes gleamed with amusement. “Why are you so impatient? You should learn to enjoy the anticipation.”

“I don’t know. Must run in the family. JD’s the same way.” She shrugged.

Floyd laughed, nodding as he leaned against the counter beside her. “You're right. It’s in our blood.”

Branch clicked her tongue and shot him a glare, making it clear that her patience had reached its limit.

“Okay, okay,” Floyd said, raising both hands in surrender.

He stepped closer, their shoulders brushing as they both kept their eyes on the counter, casually watching for any incoming customers.

Once he was sure no one else could overhear, Floyd leaned in slightly and lowered his voice. “First of all, I’d like to file a complaint about your lack of faith in me.”

Branch frowned. “What are you talking about now?”

Floyd chuckled, flashing the kind of grin that always signaled either drama or mischief. “Remember number 9?”

Branch arched an eyebrow, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Number 9? What is this, some kind of competition where people have numbers?”

“No, my beautiful sapphire,” Floyd said with a chuckle. “Remember the redhead? The one I rated a 9 when we were grading the people around us?”

Branch rolled her eyes, though the small smile on her lips proved she knew exactly what he meant. “Ohhh, you mean when Clay scolded me for 'paying attention to other men'? Yeah, I remember. What about him?”

Floyd’s grin stretched even wider, triumphant now. “His name is Ablaze.”

Branch blinked, processing the information.

“I talked to him! You doubted me, and look at me now—I know his name, and for your information, we’re probably going out tomorrow.”

Branch gawked at him. “Floyd...? What? What? How? But—?” She stared at him, completely thrown, searching for an explanation.

Floyd held up a hand, cutting off her protests, and leaned in conspiratorially. “While I was scouting, I just so happened to find him. So, naturally, I decided to make my move.”

“Aha...” Branch folded her arms, arching an eyebrow. She was clearly interested but trying to play it cool.

“And, well… I may have accidentally bumped into him. He turned around, all confused, and I, very smoothly, apologized, claiming someone had pushed me.”

Branch stared at him, processing his story. “Do people really fake accidents just to start a conversation?” she asked incredulously, the memory of Poppy’s accidental spilled drink flashing through her mind.

Floyd gave her a look, as if she had just asked if the sky was blue. “Of course, my beautiful sapphire! It’s a classic move when you really want to talk to someone but don’t know how to approach them without making it too obvious.”

Branch leaned back slightly, eyeing him with a mix of amusement and skepticism. “Sooo… after your grand 'accidental' crash, did you get his name?”

“Not only did I get his name, but…” Floyd grinned triumphantly. “I got his number.”

Branch let out a dry laugh. “Let me guess—now you’re convinced it’s destiny, right?”

Floyd placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “Branch! How can you doubt this? It was destiny. Ablaze and I are meant to be… something epic.”

Branch rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Well, good luck with that. But if tomorrow doesn’t go the way you hope, don’t come crying to me.”

“That won’t be necessary. Just be ready to hear all the details.”

Branch shook her head, turning back to the counter. “Oh, I definitely want to hear that story.”

Floyd smiled, satisfied, and rested his head on her shoulder—because, really, making her laugh was already a win.

After a while of silence, Branch looked sideways at him, her expression laden with suspicion. “You know you're contradicting yourself, don't you?”

Floyd stopped looking straight ahead and turned his face toward her, raising an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“What happened to 'love takes time'?”

Floyd shrugged, as if he didn't understand the words. “I never said there was love.”

“But you said you're 'destined for something epic'. Sounds pretty romantic, don't you think?”

Floyd turned fully toward Branch, leaning against the counter with a carefree smile. “Yes, I sense it. But that doesn't mean I'm in love. For now, I'm just attracted to Ablaze. And, considering he gave me his number, I'd like to think it's mutual. Maybe we're destined for something epic and short-lived, or maybe this will survive beyond the festival. Honestly, I'm not going to worry about it. I'm just going to enjoy the moment. After all, there's only one life, my beautiful sapphire.”

Branch looked at him, letting out a long sigh. “Yes, and I'm doomed that, in my one life, I'll have to marry a stranger.”

Floyd nudged her gently with his shoulder, his tone laden with humor. “Oh, come on, don't be like that. You can always poison his food, keep the money and enjoy life as a rich, sophisticated widow.”

Branch let out an involuntary laugh, shaking her head. “I don't know, Flo Flo. With my luck, I'd end up getting caught and I'd end up in jail.”

Floyd put a hand to his chest, pretending to be shocked. “Please! My little sister? In jail? Never. Mind you, if they do end up catching you, make sure your last meal is something expensive. You know, a lobster, a fine wine... Make it memorable!”

Branch let out a truer laugh this time, shaking her head in disbelief. “Really? That would be your concern?”

“Yes, because after that, I would be the one to tell your story. 'The legendary Branch Chordwell, the black widow with exquisite tastes.' I'd be in charge of making your reputation shine even behind bars.”

Branch shook her head, trying—and failing—to suppress a smile. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

Floyd winked. “Of course. And speaking of crazy, how about we rewrite the story? Instead of you being the infamous black widow, we make a pact—I’ll sabotage the engagement.”

Branch arched an eyebrow, amused. “Sabotage it? And how exactly do you plan to pull that off?”

“Easy. I’ll become the world’s most unbearable brother-in-law. I’ll ask him so many uncomfortable questions that he’ll break the contract himself. How much money do you make? What’s your stance on redheads? Do you even know Branch’s favorite gemstone? No? Oh, what a shame—what a terrible mistake!”

Branch burst into laughter, covering her face with one hand. “Flo Flo, you’re impossible.”

“Thank you, thank you.” Floyd gave an exaggerated bow, as if accepting an award.

Branch let out a more relaxed sigh, glancing at her brother with a mix of gratitude and affection. “You know, Clay is supposed to be the fun one, but I think you’re giving him some real competition.”

Floyd grinned triumphantly, resting his head on her shoulder again. “Well, I do have to maintain my title as your favorite brother. Even if that means becoming the funniest person in the world. Because if it weren’t for me, you’d be crying over your fate right now.”

Branch shook her head, trying to suppress another laugh. “I don’t know if you’re funny or just ridiculous… but thank you, Flo Flo.”

The warmth of the moment shattered when something—or rather, someone—caught Branch’s attention. In the distance, among the glowing festival lights, an unmistakable figure strode toward her with purpose. Smidge. And right behind her, just as determined, was Poppy.

Branch’s smile vanished in an instant. Her shoulders tensed, as if she had just remembered an unfinished task she really didn’t want to deal with. “Flo Flo, I love our chats, really, but… I think I’m due for a break.”

Floyd gave her a look—equal parts curiosity and amusement. “What? Where are you suddenly running off to?”

Branch gestured vaguely toward the festival, avoiding his gaze. “Uh… just thought I’d explore a little. You know, soak in the atmosphere, enjoy the music… that kind of thing.”

Floyd arched an eyebrow, skepticism written all over his face. “Uh-huh. Because it definitely doesn’t look like you’re running away from something.”

“Me? Running away?” Branch let out a nervous laugh as she started edging away from the booth. “I just need… fresh air.”

Floyd sighed dramatically. “Fine, I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t think I’m buying your excuses.”

Branch flashed him a grateful smile as she continued backing into the crowd. “Goodbye, Flo Flo! Love you so much, favorite brother of all time!”

Floyd rolled his eyes, watching her disappear. “Yeah, yeah… only because I’m letting you escape.”

Branch, for her part, didn’t slow down. She wove through the festival crowd, her pulse quickening. She wasn’t in the mood for more of Smidge’s insistence, and definitely not for Poppy to uncover her lies in an awkward conversation with Floyd. No, running was the best option—for now.

The festival music pulsed in her ears, a welcome distraction from the tension creeping up her spine. Just for a moment, she let herself breathe. The vibrant atmosphere offered temporary refuge.

“One problem at a time,” Branch muttered to herself before vanishing into the crowd.

Chapter Text

Branch let out a sigh, making sure she was far enough away. She knew Floyd would be ready to jump to her defense if Smidge tried anything, but she also knew that the moment Smidge or Poppy called her "Brandy", alarm bells would go off in his brother’s head. Keeping her peace—and her lie—intact meant running away as often as necessary.

Just as Branch was beginning to relax, however, a hand landed on her shoulder. She flinched.

“You know,” a familiar voice said behind her.

Branch turned with a jolt, her eyes widening like saucers when she came face-to-face with Smidge.

Her escape had failed.

“You're fast,” Smidge continued with a smile that wavered between amusement and defiance, “but not fast enough to get out of my sight.”

Branch wrenched herself free with a sharp movement, her frown deepening. “Did you follow me just to scold me again?”

Smidge arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms, as if bracing herself. “I...” She started, then faltered. A long sigh escaped her before she took a deep breath, as if summoning the strength for an internal battle. “I wanted to apologize.”

Branch blinked, puzzled. “And that’s why you decided to follow me? That’s a little... terrifying, don’t you think?” Her tone wavered between sarcasm and restrained anger.

Smidge rolled her eyes, visibly frustrated with herself. “I’m trying to be a better person. Can you at least meet me halfway?” She let out a short laugh, a mix of exasperation and sincerity.

Branch huffed a dry laugh, crossing her arms as she stared at Smidge in disbelief. “Fine. Go ahead. I’m listening.”

Smidge took a deep breath, her gaze flickering for a moment before regaining its steadiness. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “I realized I treated you... horribly, and I’m sorry for that. Can you forgive me?”

Branch tilted her head slightly, studying Smidge with sharp scrutiny. “Are you actually sorry, or is Poppy forcing you to apologize?”

The question made Smidge pause, her expression tightening as if caught in an internal struggle. Her mouth opened, but the words stuck in her throat. Finally, she exhaled, stepping back and crossing her arms again.

“Poppy suggested it,” she admitted, her voice serious but softer than before. “But this isn’t about him. I’m doing this because I know I treated you badly. Really badly. And I want to fix that.”

Branch arched an eyebrow, still wary, though a flicker of curiosity shone in her eyes. “All right, if it helps you sleep at night—consider yourself forgiven. Now, you can leave me alone.”

Smidge narrowed her eyes, studying Branch for a moment before breaking into a disarmingly honest smile. “You really have no idea who Poppy is, do you?”

Branch frowned, slightly confused. “The only thing I know about Poppy is that he’s a clueless guy who spilled a drink on me and… that he seems like a nice person. Why? Should I know more?”

Smidge shook her head, her smile shifting into something almost teasing. “No, what you know is enough. Although… maybe you could add a few more details to that description.”

“For that, I’d have to get to know him better.”

“And what are you waiting for?” Smidge replied, amused. Then, with an exaggerated flourish, she extended her hand toward Branch. “Let’s start over. I’m Smidge Havenstone—best friend and practically a sister to Poppy, the cute, clueless guy who spilled his drink on your shirt.”

Branch couldn’t help but smirk at Smidge’s easygoing attitude. With some hesitation, she reached out and shook Smidge’s hand. “Brandy Everhart,” she lied smoothly, borrowing her sister-in-law’s maiden name. If she was going to keep her identity hidden, what better cover than something familiar? “Musical instrument saleswoman.”

Smidge tilted her head, intrigued. “Brandy Everhart, musical instrument saleswoman, would you allow me to make up for my mistake by spending some time with me and Poppy?”

Branch opened her mouth, searching for an excuse, but Smidge stepped forward before she could speak.

“Come on, I’d like to assume that if you ran off from the booth like that, it’s because you’re on a break. Why spend that time alone when you could be having fun with us?” She smiled mischievously. “I promise I’m not as bad as I might have led you to believe.”

Branch let out a slow sigh, caught somewhere between caution and resignation. “You worry an awful lot about Poppy, don’t you?”

“Someone has to look after him and make sure he’s okay,” Smidge said with a casual shrug.

Branch nodded, and for a brief moment, her gaze unfocused, as if her thoughts had drifted elsewhere. “I totally get that. My—” She stopped short, realizing she was about to say something that didn’t match her lie. “My friends take good care of me, too.”

Smidge raised an eyebrow at the slip but didn’t press. Instead, she smoothly shifted the conversation. “One of them—was he the guy you were talking to at the booth?”

Branch’s posture eased slightly, a small, genuine smile tugging at her lips. “That’s right. He’s my best friend, Floyd.”

Branch’s expression softened at the mention of Flo Flo. He wasn’t just her favorite brother—he was also her closest confidant, second only to Brandy. If anyone understood her struggles, it was Floyd and Brandy.

“Floyd, huh?” Smidge echoed, tilting her head curiously. “Well, if he’s such a good friend, maybe you should introduce us sometime.”

Branch let out a light laugh but didn’t respond directly. Instead, she surprised herself by saying, “How about we start with something simpler—like a drink?”

Smidge’s grin widened. “Now that sounds like a good start.”

Branch nodded, letting Smidge lead her back to Poppy, though her mind was still racing. She had to balance her lie with the growing realization that these people might be harder to avoid than she’d expected.

The moment Poppy spotted them approaching, his face lit up with an exuberant smile. Smidge had pulled off the first step of his plan: breaking the ice with Brandy. Now, it was his turn to make the most of it.

“It’s good to see you two getting along,” Poppy said cheerfully as they reached him. With an easygoing gesture, he draped an arm around both of their shoulders.

Smidge shot him a pointed look, as if reminding him that she had done the heavy lifting. Branch, on the other hand, merely shrugged—though a flicker of discomfort flashed in her eyes.

“Smidge says you’re both nice people,” Branch said, crossing her arms. “I guess I’ll have to see for myself if that’s true.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Poppy asked eagerly, glancing between them.

“Brandy wants a drink, so you’re buying us drinks,” Smidge answered without hesitation.

“Got it.” Poppy grinned, clearly used to this kind of arrangement.

“And lunch too. I’m starting to get hungry,” Smidge added with a mischievous smirk.

Poppy let out a small laugh. “No problem,” he replied, shooting her a knowing look.

Branch frowned and, in one swift motion, slipped out from under Poppy’s arm, positioning herself in front of them. “Wait, hold on. I can pay for mine. You don’t have to cover everything, Poppy.”

Smidge’s grin widened, a playful spark in her eyes. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Poppy’s basically my sugar friend. Trust me, he doesn’t mind footing the bill.”

Poppy burst into laughter at the remark. “You’re impossible. And please never call me that again,” he said with a chuckle, shaking his head before turning to Branch. “But seriously, Brandy, I really don’t mind buying you lunch.”

Branch exhaled, visibly uncomfortable. “Still, I can pay for myself. Really.”

Smidge raised her hands in mock surrender. “All right, all right—how about at least letting us buy you a drink? Consider it my way of making up for earlier.”

Branch sighed, realizing that arguing further would only drag out the conversation. “Fine,” she relented, though her tone remained firm. “But don’t think I’ll let you buy me anything else. I’m used to paying my own way.”

Smidge smirked, clearly impressed. “I like you, Everhart.”

Poppy blinked, momentarily confused. “Everhart?”

Branch reacted instantly, masking any nervousness. “My last name,” she replied smoothly, as if it were second nature. Then, before they could dwell on it, she clapped her hands together. “So—drinks? My break isn’t endless, and we should make the most of it.”

“Let’s go!” Poppy beamed, slinging his arm around her shoulders again as they headed off.

Branch smiled back, though inside, she was conflicted. Part of her wanted to tell Poppy she wasn’t a fan of physical contact—that she didn’t need him touching her. But another part hesitated. Something about his touch was different. His presence didn’t make her feel invaded; instead, it brought a strange sense of comfort.

“Now’s not the time to overthink this,” she told herself as they walked. “I’ll bring it up later... maybe.”

But deep down, Branch knew she was lying to herself. That small spark of warmth she felt when Poppy was close was something she couldn’t ignore.

“So, Brandy, tell me something,” Poppy said, breaking the silence as they left the festival grounds and headed toward a small café. “If you sell instruments, do you have a favorite one?”

Branch tensed slightly, hating these kinds of questions. The more she talked, the more chances there were for her story to fall apart. “Uh... I guess guitars. There’s something about them that—” she paused, memories surfacing of Bruce Jr.'s lessons and Floyd’s melancholic melodies filling the house. “—that conveys a lot of emotion.”

Poppy’s face lit up with genuine interest. “That sounds amazing. Maybe someday you can teach us more about instruments.”

Branch forced a smile and nodded. “As long as they don’t figure out who I really am, everything will be fine.”

The café they arrived at was cozy, filled with rustic wooden tables and the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee. As they reached the entrance, Poppy stepped ahead and dramatically swung the door open, gesturing grandly for them to enter.

“Ladies first,” he said with an exaggerated grin.

Branch rolled her eyes, but despite herself, a small smile crept onto her lips. Smidge, meanwhile, chuckled as she stepped inside.

“Are you always this... gentlemanly?” Branch asked as she followed.

“No, only when he wants to impress someone,” Smidge quipped with a smirk.

They settled at a table by the window, where the sunlight cast a warm glow over them. Smidge flipped through the menu absentmindedly, while Poppy leaned forward slightly, watching Branch with a mix of curiosity and excitement—like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

“So, Brandy,” Poppy finally said, breaking the silence, “how long have you been working with instruments?”

Branch hesitated for a split second, debating whether to lie or be vague. She opted for ambiguity. “A few years. I like helping people find the perfect instrument. It’s like... everyone has their own story, you know?”

Poppy nodded slowly, clearly impressed. “That’s a great way to put it. Music does tell amazing stories.”

Something about his sincerity caught Branch off guard, but before she could respond, Smidge cut in. “By the way, Poppy, remember—you’re paying for the drinks?”

Poppy laughed, raising his hands in surrender. “I know, I know. I already said it’s on me.”

As Poppy headed to the counter, Smidge turned to Branch with a knowing tilt of her head. She lowered her voice. “You know, I think you’re starting to like us. Or at least Poppy.”

Branch arched an eyebrow. “And what makes you think that?”

Smidge smirked. “Because you didn’t pull away when he put his arm around you. If that had been me, and I’d just met Poppy, I’d have shoved him off in two seconds flat.”

A hint of warmth crept up Branch’s neck, but she quickly masked it with a sigh. “That doesn’t mean anything. I’m just being polite.”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.” Smidge muttered, clearly enjoying how flustered Branch was.

Before Branch could argue, Poppy returned with their drinks.

“Here you go, Brandy—your new favorite drink, personally discovered just seconds ago by yours truly.” He set a pink drink in front of her with a playful grin.

Branch gave him a lopsided smile as she accepted it. “Thanks. But don’t think this earns you any points.”

Poppy chuckled as he took a seat. “I’m just trying to be nice. If it feels like I’m scoring points, then I must be doing something right.”

Branch let out a small laugh before taking a sip of her drink. Smidge, meanwhile, watched them quietly, sensing that her best friend's plan was unfolding even better than expected.

And deep down, Branch couldn't deny it—this easy conversation, the effortless back-and-forth, felt good. For the first time in a long while, Branch didn’t feel the urge to keep her guard up or plan an escape. She wasn’t running.

Branch didn’t want to run.

Her eyes flickered toward Poppy, catching his gaze for just a moment before she looked away.

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” she told herself. “Trying to make friends isn’t a crime. I’m not breaking any rules.”

Chapter Text

Floyd cocked his head as he spotted Clay approaching the stall, a carefree smile on his face. In one hand, he carried a shopping bag; in the other, a neatly wrapped gift.

As Clay drew closer, Floyd arched an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a lopsided grin. “What did you buy this time?”

Clay’s grin widened, his expression practically radiating pride. “Books. I actually listened to Branch for once, found a bookstore nearby, and… well, I lost track of time. Was I gone too long?”

Floyd gave an indifferent shrug. “No idea. I wasn’t here when you left.” His gaze flicked to the package in Clay’s hand. “And what’s that?”

Clay glanced down at the gift, as if only now remembering it. “Oh, this? It’s a book I got for Branch. Something about survival in the wilderness—figured she’d like it.”

Floyd studied him, nodding slowly. “Uh-huh. And you just happened to buy her a book, out of the blue?”

Clay’s brow furrowed, his stance shifting slightly. “Yeah. I saw it, thought of my sister, and figured she’d appreciate it.”

Floyd let out a quiet chuckle, his voice laced with knowing amusement. “Or maybe you feel guilty for yelling at her like a lunatic and think a book will make up for it.”

Clay snorted, pressing his lips into a thin line before replying, “That’s not the point. I got Branch the book because I love her, and I want her to know I’m thinking about her. Not because I expect it to buy me forgiveness.”

Floyd held his gaze for a beat, as if weighing his sincerity, then smirked, mischief sparking in his eyes. “Sure, sure. Although, let’s be honest—it wouldn’t be the first time you tried smoothing things over with a gift.”

Clay narrowed his eyes, his smile never fading. “Maybe what really bothers you is the thought that Branch might see me as the more attentive brother—and end up choosing me as her favorite.”

Floyd let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Clay, you can try all you want, but you don’t stand a chance. I’m Branch’s favorite brother, and everyone knows it.”

Clay arched an eyebrow, his smile turning smug. “You think so? Well, we’ll see when Branch gets my gift and—”

“And she tells you that you don’t need to buy her things to earn her love or forgiveness,” Floyd cut in, crossing his arms in triumph. “Besides, if you think a survival book is enough to dethrone me as the favorite, you seriously underestimate my relationship with Branch.”

Clay chuckled, adjusting the shopping bag in his hand. “I’m not underestimating anything, Floyd. I’m just saying maybe you should start worrying. After all, I’m the one thinking about Branch’s interests—not just bragging about being her favorite.”

Floyd leaned forward, resting his elbows on the booth counter. “Oh, yeah? Is that a challenge? Because if it is, I’m more than happy to accept.”

Clay raised his hands in mock innocence. “It’s not a challenge—just an observation. But if you want to take it that way, I won’t stop you.”

Floyd’s smirk widened, a competitive gleam in his eyes. “All right, then. Let’s see who can impress our sister the most. Just know—it won’t be easy for you.”

Clay nodded, grinning as if he’d planned this all along. “I wouldn’t want it to be.”

Floyd let out a light laugh, but beneath it was an unshakable confidence. “It’s a shame you hate being called the ‘fun’ brother. Because to my sapphire, my sense of humor is as sweet a tune as her laughter.”

Clay scoffed. “Branch is always an exception to the rule, and you know it. I love making her laugh.”

Floyd shrugged. “I’m just saying—while you scold Branch for grading the beauty of strangers, I make her laugh by joking about canceling her engagement. I don’t just assume I’m Branch’s favorite brother, Clay—I am. And you know it.”

Before Clay could fire back, the sound of a vibrating phone cut through the conversation. He pulled it from his pocket, glancing at the screen. The name “JD” flashed across it—an incoming video call.

“Huh. Our brother,” Clay muttered, somewhere between curiosity and resignation.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Answer it,” Floyd urged, arching an eyebrow.

Clay swiped to accept the call, and Floyd shifted to his side, leaning in just enough to fit into the frame.

“Hey, JD,” they greeted in unison.

On the screen, John Dory’s familiar smile appeared, brimming with the boundless energy that always seemed excessive for a casual video call.

“Hey, baby brothers! How’s everything over there?”

“Everything’s great,” Clay replied, while Floyd gave a nonchalant nod.

“My Bluebell told me the same thing. Good to have it confirmed.” John Dory paused, squinting at the screen as if searching for something. “Speaking of which… where’s my baby girl?”

Floyd and Clay exchanged a brief glance before the younger brother answered. “Branch is out exploring. She’s been working a lot lately—figured she deserved a break.”

John Dory nodded slowly, though unease lingered in his expression. “I see… but did you really let her go alone?”

Floyd snorted, crossing his arms. “John, Branch isn’t a child. She knows how to take care of herself just fine.”

“Besides, you know how she is,” Clay added in a calm tone. “She enjoys her breaks more when no one’s hovering over her.”

John hesitated, as if trying to convince himself, then sighed. “I guess you’re right… but still. Take care of her, okay? I know you already do, but I can’t help worrying about my Bluebell.”

Floyd offered a confident smile, one that felt almost rehearsed. “We know. She’s in good hands. Rhonda too, before you start worrying about your other baby girl. And come on, John, you of all people know Branch means the world to us.”

“And we’ll make sure she doesn’t get into trouble or do anything to jeopardize her engagement,” Clay added, his tone turning serious.

Immediately, Floyd shot him a sharp look, his expression hardening. “Right. Because yelling at her yesterday was the perfect way to show that.”

John Dory, who had been nodding along, suddenly went still. His face darkened. “What did you just say, Floyd?” His voice was dangerously calm as he turned to Clay. “Did you yell at my beautiful Bluebell?”

Before Clay could respond, an outraged voice erupted from somewhere offscreen. “We’ve only ever raised our voices at Branch a handful of times, and that was when she was a child, Clay Chordwell!”

Bruce’s unmistakable tone carried through the speaker, loud and indignant. John Dory nodded approvingly, arms crossed like a father ready to lecture.

Clay ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “It wasn’t like you’re making it sound. I raised my voice because Branch was being completely irrational!”

“Irrational?” John repeated, incredulous. “Do you have any idea how irrational you sound right now? Who do you think you are to yell at my little girl?”

Floyd, never one to waste an opportunity, smirked as he added fuel to the fire. “That’s what I told him. But no, according to Clay, it was necessary to ‘set boundaries.’”

Clay pursed his lips, irritation clear in his expression. “It wasn’t like that! I was trying to reason with Branch and—”

“And you lost your patience?” Floyd cut in, crossing his arms.

Bruce, now standing beside John, watched with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“Because if that’s the case, Clay, you’re going to need more than a survival book to fix this.” Floyd turned to his older brothers, gesturing dramatically. “All of this because Branch and I were rating strangers who walked past the festival booth from one to ten, and Clay decided that somehow equated to… infidelity.”

Bruce snorted, rolling his eyes. “Oh, please, Clay. Branch wasn’t doing anything wrong. Our sister—engaged or not—doesn’t even know who her fiancé is. Do you really think giving out numbers to strangers makes her unfaithful?”

Clay’s fists clenched, but before he could fire back, John lifted a hand, his tone firm and non-negotiable. “You’d better apologize.”

“I already did.” Clay met his gaze, his voice steady but tinged with weariness. “We talked, and everything’s fine between us.”

John studied him for a long moment before nodding. “You’d better have. And I’m warning you, Clay Chordwell—if I hear anything like this again, I won’t hesitate to drive down there and settle it in person.”

Floyd, never one to let an opportunity slip, grinned. “No need, JD. I’ve got everything under control. Besides, Clay keeps giving my sapphire more reasons to pick me as her favorite brother.”

John rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at his lips. “Don’t start, Floyd. We all know the real favorite brother is me.”

“Shut up!” Bruce huffed, crossing his arms in mock defiance. “Even if you two won’t admit it, we all know your relationship with Branch is more father-daughter than brother-sister. So, technically, you’re not even part of the competition, John Dory.”

The comment earned a chuckle from Floyd and Clay, while John’s face tinged slightly red as he averted his gaze.

“Whatever.” John cleared his throat, shifting back to a more serious tone. “Branch is proving to be the responsible woman I always knew she’d be. Let her enjoy the festival, okay?”

Floyd’s playful demeanor faded, his expression turning somber. “She’s not happy about the engagement, JD.”

John grimaced, avoiding his brothers’ gazes as Bruce stepped in. “We know.”

Floyd crossed his arms, studying them both. “And there’s really no way to call it off?”

John exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “No. Believe me, I’ve thought about it recently, but it’s too late now. Maybe in the beginning, when Peppy was still hesitant about the marriage contract… maybe there was a chance.”

“But he changed his mind?” Clay asked, his brow furrowed, his tone caught between curiosity and frustration.

John hesitated before nodding, as if the words carried more weight than he wanted to admit. “Peppy realized the engagement has brought huge benefits to both families. So much so that…” He let out a long sigh, then continued, “he wants the wedding preparations to begin as soon as possible.”

Bruce grimaced. “Once you return from the festival, it won’t be long before Branch and Poppy are finally married.”

A heavy silence settled over the younger brothers until Clay broke it, his voice tinged with disbelief. “So that means…”

“That means Branch is living out her last days of freedom,” Floyd finished, his voice resigned, his gaze fixed on the horizon—as if searching for a solution that wasn’t there.

On the other end of the call, John and Bruce nodded, their expressions mirroring the same helplessness.

John finally spoke, his voice steady but strained. “That’s right. That’s why I need you to let her be happy and free while she still can.”

Bruce smirked, though his tone carried an underlying warning. “Just make sure Branch is safe and sound—or JD will lose his mind before he kills you.”

“Understood,” Floyd and Clay replied in unison.

John gave them a warm but weary smile. “Take care. We love you.”

Bruce chuckled lightly, though it did little to lift the weight in the air. “But take better care of Branch—if you value your lives.”

Floyd rolled his eyes, while Clay forced a small smile. “We love you too.”

The call ended, leaving behind a silence that seemed to press against them. Floyd and Clay remained still, each lost in thought. They both knew it—Branch’s fate was slipping further out of her hands.

*************************

Smidge, Branch, and Poppy had just finished lunch when the sapphire-eyed girl excused herself to go to the restroom, leaving the best friends alone. Silence settled between them, but the way their gazes met spoke volumes.

“I have to admit, I like Brandy,” Smidge finally broke the quiet, offering a small smile as she looked at Poppy.

He rested his chin on his hand, sighing dreamily as his eyes followed the path Branch had taken. “I told you, she’s great.”

Smidge wrinkled her nose at his smitten tone. “Just don’t forget—this is temporary. She’s not yours.”

Poppy’s brows furrowed slightly, but he kept his voice even. “Please, just let me enjoy the moment.”

Smidge nodded, though a flicker of concern remained in her eyes. They both fell into thoughtful silence until Branch returned. She stopped mid-step, her sapphire gaze shifting between them, sensing the lingering tension.

"Everything okay?" she asked, a note of curiosity in her voice.

Smidge was quick to flash a reassuring smile. “Of course! I just asked one of those deep, philosophical questions that make you think… nothing to worry about.”

Poppy nodded, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Exactly, nothing serious.”

Branch gave them a skeptical look but chose not to press. “Well, this was nice, but I have to get back to work.”

“So soon?” Poppy whined, exaggerating a pout in an attempt to sway her.

“Why don’t you come out with us tomorrow?” Smidge suggested suddenly, her enthusiasm catching Branch off guard.

Branch blinked in surprise before offering a shy smile. “You’re not tired of my company yet?”

“Not at all!” Poppy blurted out, eyes lighting up. He then gestured toward his best friend with amusement. “In fact, Smidge was just saying how much she’s starting to like you.”

“He’s not lying,” Smidge confirmed, nodding with a grin.

Branch laughed softly, feeling more at ease. “I'm starting to like you guys too, but—”

“But what?” Smidge narrowed her eyes, feigning suspicion. “I hope you're not looking for an excuse, Brandy, because Poppy can be ridiculously persistent when he sets his mind to something.”

Poppy folded his arms, flashing a confident grin. “And right now, spending more time with you is one of my top priorities.”

Branch arched an eyebrow, clearly amused. Her smile was subtle but genuine as she watched them, as if they were two children scheming against her.

Finally, she let out a small sigh, though the playful glint in her eyes gave her away. “Fine, we can go to one of the concerts together.”

Smidge's face lit up. “There's a techno concert I’ve been dying to check out!”

“I know exactly which one you mean,” Poppy said eagerly, turning to Branch with an expectant look.

Branch chuckled at their enthusiasm. “Sounds perfect to me. I’ll meet you there tomorrow.”

Before they could rope her into discussing more details, she pushed back her chair and stood up. “It was a pleasure spending time with you.”

“Goodbye, Brandy!” Poppy crooned, waving dramatically.

“See you tomorrow—don’t even think about standing us up!” Smidge added with a teasing smile.

As Branch stepped out of the café, her pace quickened, but her smile lingered. Her day was far from over, yet the thought of an evening filled with music and good company gave her something to look forward to.

Poppy and Smidge remained seated, watching as Branch disappeared down the street.

“You know,” Poppy mused, swirling the last of his drink before taking a sip, “I think Brandy is really starting to enjoy spending time with us.”

“Of course she is,” Smidge said confidently, leaning back in her chair. “I mean, let’s be honest—who wouldn’t?”

They both laughed, the warmth of their camaraderie settling between them. Tomorrow would be another day, and with the sapphire-eyed girl in their plans, it promised to be even more memorable.

Chapter Text

When Branch re-entered the festival, she hurried toward the stand. She had lost track of time and worried her brothers might comment on it. But as she approached, she noticed something off—Floyd and Clay's expressions were unusually subdued. She frowned and quickened her pace.

“Hey,” Branch called as she stepped into the booth, drawing their attention. “I'm back. How did things go without me? Did you miss me?” she added playfully.

They both looked up, their moods shifting immediately. Floyd was the first to respond, flashing a lopsided smile.

“You know very well my days are gray when you're not around.”

Branch raised an eyebrow. “You're such a drama king.”

“I prefer the term sensitive,” Floyd countered with a shrug.

Clay stepped forward and held out a small bag. “I did miss you terribly. Thanks for suggesting I go around town—I found a beautiful bookstore and got you a book.”

Branch took the gift, surprised. “Clay, you didn’t have to do that. But thank you.”

Floyd scoffed, sticking out his tongue. “Oh, please. Clay just wanted to buy your love.”

“That’s not true!” Clay shot back, giving him a withering look. “Don’t listen to him, Branch. He’s just jealous because I got you a gift and he’s empty-handed.”

Floyd folded his arms with a smirk. “Well, my sapphire is going shopping with me tonight, and I’m going to buy her a beautiful outfit.”

Branch sighed and held up a hand before Clay could reply. “First of all, stop it. You're acting like children, and I’m supposed to be the youngest here. Second, normally, I'd balk at the idea of shopping, but tomorrow I’m going to a techno concert, and I don’t really have anything to wear. So, Flo Flo, I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“A techno concert? Sounds like fun! I’m sure we’ll have a great time,” Clay said enthusiastically.

Branch hesitated for a second before responding. “Actually… I made plans with a… girl I met at the festival.”

The partial lie left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she wasn’t ready to mention Poppy. She knew exactly how her brothers would react.

Floyd eyed her with a mix of confusion and intrigue. “Really? But you’re not exactly great at making new friends.”

Clay raised an eyebrow, clearly processing the information.

“Yeah, well… let’s just say it was a lucky coincidence,” Branch said quickly, avoiding their gazes.

Floyd leaned in. “And who is she? When do we get to meet her?”

Branch felt cornered. “Uh… not yet. I’m just getting to know her.”

Clay narrowed his eyes. “Still, you don’t want us to go with you in case something goes wrong? Very suspicious...”

Branch cleared her throat and waved a dismissive hand. “It’s no big deal. I just want to make friends without you two hovering. Trust me. Now, let’s change the subject. Flo Flo, what time are we going shopping?”

Floyd seemed torn between pressing her for more details or letting it go. After a dramatic sigh, he finally relented. “After dinner. But if I find something truly fabulous, you have to promise to wear it without complaint.”

Branch rolled her eyes, relieved by the distraction. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.”

The siblings spent the rest of the day at a leisurely pace. Meanwhile, Branch was already mentally preparing herself for the inevitable shopping trip with Floyd. She suspected his enthusiasm for buying clothes wasn’t just about her—his date with Ablaze was the next day, and if she knew Floyd well, that meant they wouldn’t be done quickly… or early.

As night fell, Floyd took it upon himself to grab food from a nearby stall and returned to their booth to eat with his siblings. He was secretly grateful that no customers showed up to interrupt their quiet time.

Once they finished dinner, Floyd quickly gathered everything up, barely concealing his impatience. He rubbed his hands together excitedly before turning to Branch with a triumphant grin.

“Ready to go, my beautiful sapphire?”

Branch let out a sigh and nodded. “Yes, yes. Just promise me we’re not spending all night shopping for you.”

Floyd placed a dramatic hand over his heart. “I’m not promising anything, Sapphire. Tomorrow, I must look spectacular to impress Ablaze.”

Branch rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips.

Clay, who had been rearranging some records, suddenly turned to them with an indignant look. “Wait, you’re leaving already? You’re seriously leaving me alone?”

Branch and Floyd exchanged a glance before shrugging in unison.

“Yeah… is that a problem?” Floyd asked casually.

“Yes!” Clay huffed, crossing his arms. “It’s not fair. You’re ditching me during the night shift, knowing it’s the busiest! What if a crowd of people suddenly rushes in, all wanting records or instruments, and I can’t keep up?”

Branch smirked, folding her arms. “You’re supposed to be the smart one here—I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Floyd burst into laughter while Clay narrowed his eyes at her, looking mock-offended.

“Besides,” Floyd added, clapping Clay on the shoulder, “take it easy. Sales have been so slow today, I highly doubt you’ll be facing any unexpected chaos.”

“But what if—just as you're leaving—a celebrity walks in to shop? Or an eccentric millionaire who wants to buy everything in stock?” Clay insisted, dramatically painting the worst-case scenario.

Branch patted his head with mock sympathy. “If that happens, call us. But in the meantime… have fun working! See you at the hotel.”

Floyd burst into laughter as Clay let out a resigned grunt.

“I hope you get trapped in the store and the manager makes you try on everything they have,” Clay muttered darkly.

Branch shuddered at the thought, but Floyd simply winked.

“Dear Clay, that would be a dream come true for me.”

And with that, Floyd grabbed Branch by the arm and whisked her away before Clay could protest any further.

************************

The next day at the siblings' booth, everything was running smoothly. There was a steady flow of customers, but nothing chaotic. Clay had just arrived for his shift—Branch and Floyd had let him sleep in as a small gesture of goodwill after leaving him alone the night before. Besides, he was the only one without plans that day.

As the hours passed, the younger siblings’ restlessness became more obvious. Branch couldn’t quite understand why a simple outing with friends made her so nervous—though, deep down, she knew those magenta eyes had everything to do with it. Floyd, on the other hand, was trying to maintain his usual confidence, but a hint of insecurity gnawed at him. He hadn’t been on a date in months, and no matter how self-assured he appeared, doubt still crept in.

Now, both were ready, just waiting for the right moment to leave. But the calm atmosphere was suddenly disrupted when Branch spotted Smidge approaching with way too much enthusiasm. Alarm bells went off in her head. She immediately began gesturing for Smidge to turn back, but her friend didn’t notice her at all.

“BRAN—”

Before Smidge could finish her excited shout, Branch reacted instinctively, clamping both hands over her mouth and cutting her off mid-word. Smidge scowled, clearly confused, while Floyd and Clay exchanged raised eyebrows.

Branch spoke hurriedly, as if trying to get it over with. “This is the girl I mentioned yesterday—her name is Smidge. Smidge, these are Floyd and Clay.” Then, without missing a beat: “Now that you’ve met, I’m just gonna step away with Smidge for a moment! Won’t be long. Bye!”

And before anyone could respond, Branch grabbed Smidge by the arm and practically dragged her away from the booth.

Floyd and Clay watched as Branch practically dragged Smidge away, both tilting their heads in sync, frowning.

“Yeah… that wasn’t suspicious at all,” Clay commented dryly.

Floyd smirked, shrugging. “Maybe she’s just excited to make new friends?”

Clay shot him a pointed look. “Floyd. You know that was suspicious.”

Floyd sighed dramatically. “What if Branch was just afraid we’d embarrass her? I don’t know, Clay… remember when JD told us to ease up on her this week and give her space?”

Clay exhaled, reluctantly conceding. “I guess you have a point.”

Meanwhile, Branch kept up a brisk pace, pulling Smidge along with determination until she was sure they were far enough from the booth. Once she finally stopped, she let out a sigh and looked at Smidge apologetically. Smidge, however, merely arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

“What the hell was that, Brandy?”

Branch let out a nervous laugh. “I’m really sorry for that reaction, but… you know how protective you get over Poppy? Like, to the point where you were, um… less than friendly to me at first?”

Smidge frowned, visibly uncomfortable at the memory, but nodded without saying anything.

“Well, Floyd and Clay are the same way with me,” Branch continued. “Anything you said just now could’ve been used against us. I mean, you and Poppy are pretty much a few of my friends outside of my family because of that.”

That wasn’t entirely true. In reality, Smidge and Poppy were becoming her first genuine friends outside of the Chordwell family name, but Branch preferred to keep things simple.

Smidge’s expression softened. “Oh, I get it. Sorry about that—I wouldn’t want to cause you trouble, especially before our big outing. And honestly, I’d hate to break Poppy’s heart. He’s the one who’s most excited about this.”

She chuckled, and Branch gave her a small smile in return.

“Next time, let’s just meet directly at the rendezvous point,” Branch suggested with a nervous laugh. “Or at the very least, don’t shout my name across the festival. A simple ‘hello’ will do just fine.” She hesitated before adding, “And… tell Poppy to avoid coming near the booth when I’m not alone. Floyd and Clay can be a little… possessive of me.”

Smidge snapped into a mock military salute. “Roger that!”

Branch couldn’t help but laugh.

“By the way, what did you need me for?” She asked.

“Right! I almost forgot—” Smidge began, only to be abruptly cut off when Poppy suddenly appeared, practically buzzing with excitement. Before either of them could react, he threw his arms around their shoulders in an enthusiastic hug.

“Did Smidge tell you? We're starting our friends' outing right now!” he announced, eyes sparkling.

“I would have, if you hadn't interrupted me, Poppy!” Smidge scolded, crossing her arms.

Poppy, however, wasn’t listening. His full attention had locked onto Branch as he took her in from head to toe.

The short aquamarine top accentuated her figure, leaving just enough of her waist exposed. Her denim shorts, trimmed with delicate white lace, paired effortlessly with the green shirt tied around her waist—casual yet undeniably stylish. White knee-high platform boots added to her striking presence, exuding confidence and an effortless coolness. Her jet-black hair was pulled into two space buns atop her head, with loose braids framing her face. Futuristic glasses perched on her head, and a mix of bracelets, a necklace, and her treasured locket shimmered under the festival lights, reflecting a bold and free-spirited energy.

“You look beautiful,” Poppy murmured, almost involuntarily.

Branch’s eyes widened slightly, her cheeks warming under his gaze. “Uh… thanks.” She quickly looked away, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Smidge, watching with a raised eyebrow, cleared her throat pointedly to break the moment. “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted”—she shot Poppy a look—“I found a booth that does festival makeup. Rhinestones, glow-in-the-dark paint, glitter, the works. We should totally go.”

“Now? I'm still working,” Branch hesitated.

“Can't you ask for permission?” Smidge pleaded, tilting her head.

Poppy, not missing a beat, mirrored her expression, eyes wide and hopeful.

Branch sighed, already feeling her resolve crumbling. “Fine, but no promises. Wait here.”

As she made her way back to the stall, Branch mentally sifted through possible excuses. Floyd and Clay weren’t exactly strict when it came to letting her go out, but she also knew how overprotective they could be.

The moment she arrived, Floyd greeted her with a raised eyebrow. “Everything okay with your mystery friend?” he asked casually, though the curiosity in his tone was obvious.

“Yeah, yeah… she just needed to tell me something important,” Branch replied quickly, keeping her expression neutral. “Actually, I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

Clay narrowed his eyes. “What kind of favor?”

Branch forced an innocent smile. “Can I head out now? Smidge wants to start our girls’ night earlier. As in... right now. If you guys don’t mind, of course.”

Floyd and Clay exchanged a knowing look.

“Mmm… I don’t know. What do you think, Clay?” Floyd mused, stroking his chin as if pondering a deep philosophical question.

“Well,” Clay said, mirroring the gesture, “considering she acted rather suspiciously and now wants to leave early... What do you think, Floyd? Should we let her?”

Branch let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, come on! You know I’m responsible, and I hardly ever ask for stuff like this.”

Her brothers held her gaze for a moment before their smirks cracked into laughter.

“All right, go ahead,” Clay finally conceded.

“Have fun!” Floyd added, his teasing expression softening into a genuine smile.

Branch let out a relieved breath. “Thanks. Could you pass me my jacket?”

Floyd grabbed a long-sleeved black jacket with cobalt blue detailing on the shoulders and handed it to her. Without hesitation, Branch slipped it on, then quickly turned on her heel before they could change their minds.

As she walked back to Smidge and Poppy, ready to enjoy the evening with her friends, she tried to shake the lingering warmth in her chest—the faint, inexplicable flutter that still remained from Poppy’s compliment.

Chapter Text

Floyd and Clay watched as Branch walked away, a shared silence settling between them. Pride swelled at seeing their little sister making new friends, but it warred with the ever-present apprehension of overprotective older brothers.

Clay frowned as Branch approached her mysterious friend—only now, he noticed someone else standing beside her. A boy.

“There’s a boy with them,” he muttered, his brows drawing together.

Floyd arched an eyebrow but nodded. “We have to trust her. Remember what JD said—let her have fun. It’s probably her last week as a single woman.”

Clay’s eyes narrowed, still fixed on the unfamiliar figure. “You think that’s why she didn’t introduce us properly? Because there was a guy with her new friend?”

Floyd shrugged, though a flicker of concern passed through his eyes. “After your little scolding, I wouldn’t blame her. Let’s just stay out of it and do what JD asked—let her enjoy herself.”

Clay exhaled, guilt pricking at him. “I already said I was sorry, okay?”

Floyd shot him a sympathetic glance before shifting his gaze back to Branch, watching as she and her companions disappeared into the distance.

But Clay barely noticed. His focus remained locked on the pink-haired boy walking beside her, his figure blurred by distance. Something about him tugged at his memory. “I feel like I’ve seen that guy before…” he murmured.

Floyd tilted his head. “Really?”

Clay squinted, straining for a clearer look, but the distance worked against him. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. “No… Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

Floyd chuckled, his eyes still on the path their sister had taken. “You’re just jealous, that’s all.”

Clay shot him a look—part indignant, part resigned. “And you’re not?”

Floyd smirked. “Maybe… but I hide it better.”

The brothers exchanged one last look before letting out a quiet chuckle, though the worry still lingered. Clay couldn’t shake the feeling gnawing at him. Maybe he was overthinking it… or maybe that boy wasn’t as much of a stranger as he seemed.

Floyd, meanwhile, glanced at his watch. His eyes widened. “Damn!” He hastily straightened his clothes, his movements suddenly frantic.

Clay raised an eyebrow, arms folding across his chest in amusement. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes! I’m late for my date. Branch was supposed to stick around so you wouldn’t be alone for too long, but—” Floyd grimaced as he fussed with his hair.

Clay snorted. “Floyd, relax. Just go and enjoy yourself.”

Floyd hesitated. “You sure you’ll be okay handling everything by yourself?”

Clay scoffed. “Yesterday, I was abandoned without a second thought. I think I can survive.” He waved him off with mock exasperation. “Now go, Floyd Chordwell. Go to your boy before I change my mind.”

Floyd huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

Without waiting for a reply, he bolted, leaving Clay alone with his thoughts. The elder Chordwell let out a slow sigh, his gaze drifting back to where he had last seen his siblings.

“I hope they know what they’re doing…” he muttered before returning to work—though that uneasy feeling refused to fade.

*************************

The music festival was in full swing, colored lights painting the night sky while the bass from the speakers pulsed through the ground. Floyd weaved through the crowd, excitement bubbling beneath his skin—though, for the first time in a long time, nerves coiled with it.

This wasn’t his first date, but something about Ablaze unsettled him in the best way possible. Maybe it was that smirk, the way his sharp eyes seemed to see right through him.

Finally, he spotted him near a smoothie stand, casually leaning against the counter, his red hair catching the glow of the festival lights. Floyd smirked to himself, recalling how they met—how he’d "accidentally" bumped into Ablaze just to start a conversation. And somehow, that little stunt had led them here. Floyd took a breath, straightened his jacket, and stepped forward.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” he said, keeping his tone effortlessly smooth.

Ablaze’s gaze dragged over him slowly, deliberately, before arching a brow. “I could say no… but I’d rather let you think you did. That way, you’ll feel guilty and spoil me a little more.”

Floyd blinked before chuckling. “Oh, so you’re the type to manipulate guilt?”

Ablaze smirked. “Only when it works in my favor.”

Floyd tilted his head, mirroring that playful energy. “Then I hope whatever I do is worth it.”

Ablaze leaned in slightly, his expression thoughtful, like he was sizing him up. “That depends on how hard you try.”

A thrill ran down Floyd’s spine, but he refused to let himself be the first to break. Instead, he gestured toward the smoothie stand, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

“How about a drink first? You know, before I start proving myself.”

Ablaze hummed, tapping a finger against his chin before finally relenting. “Yeah, that sounds good. For now.”

Floyd chuckled, leading the way—though he couldn’t shake the feeling that Ablaze was already winning this little game they were playing.

Ablaze scanned the menu, eyes flicking between options, clearly undecided. Floyd smirked, sensing an opportunity to tease. “If you can’t make up your mind, I’ll pick the weirdest one for you.”

Ablaze turned to him with a playful glint in his eye. “And if I want the weirdest one?”

“Then I’ll order you the most boring one instead.”

Ablaze chuckled, shaking his head before finally settling on a berry smoothie. Floyd, looking smug, ordered a mango one. With drinks in hand, they drifted through the festival, the music and chatter blending into an easy backdrop. Their conversation flowed smoother now, each quip and glance layering into something undeniably charged.

Just as the moment felt perfectly balanced, the crowd surged. Someone bumped into Ablaze, sending him stumbling—straight into Floyd. The shock of cold liquid soaked through Floyd’s shirt.

A brief silence hung between them.

Floyd slowly looked down at his now murder-scene-red shirt, then up at Ablaze, his expression caught between disbelief and amusement.

“Well, I was going for bold fashion choices tonight, but I didn’t expect to look like a crime scene.”

Ablaze pressed his lips together, though his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Considering we met because you bumped into me, maybe this is how our first date was meant to start.”

Floyd arched a brow. “With a crime?”

Ablaze shrugged. “Depends on how you look at it. A fashion crime, for sure.”

Floyd let out a laugh, but before he could say more, Ablaze—surprisingly gentle—pulled out a handkerchief and began dabbing at the stain.

He leaned in. Too close.

Floyd felt his breath hitch as their faces hovered inches apart, the space between them charged. “If you wanted an excuse to get closer,” he murmured, voice dropping slightly, “you could’ve just asked.”

Ablaze didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he held his gaze, that same knowing glint in his eye. “Who says I need an excuse?”

Floyd blanked for half a second before bursting into laughter. “Wow. So you do know how to flirt.”

Ablaze smirked but said nothing, continuing to dab at Floyd’s shirt with an infuriatingly calm precision—completely unfazed, completely in control.

Floyd swallowed. Damn. He might just be in trouble.

Floyd smoothed a hand over his murder-scene of a shirt and shot Ablaze a teasing grin. “So, should we keep enjoying the festival, or would you rather help me find a new shirt?”

Ablaze folded his arms, tilting his head slightly. “Well, considering you now look like a dramatic soap opera star, we’d better find a shirt before someone actually mistakes this for a crime scene.”

Floyd’s grin widened. “What if I just tell people I was attacked by a cute guy who now owes me another date?”

Ablaze huffed a soft laugh, but his eyes gleamed. “If you do that, I’ll make sure it really does look like a crime.”

Floyd leaned in just a little, voice dropping to a murmur. “I love that you threaten with style.”

Ablaze shook his head, but the faint pink dusting his cheeks betrayed him. He could act unbothered all he wanted, but Floyd was starting to see through the cracks. And so, between teasing, background music, and stolen glances, their first date—chaotic as it was—was turning out to be something neither of them expected.

As they wandered through the festival booths in search of a new shirt, Floyd couldn’t help but notice how Ablaze, despite his casual front, seemed to measure every word and every glance. He wasn’t just flirting back—he was playing the game. And Floyd? He was very intrigued.

He stopped by a clothing stand and ran a hand over the options before glancing at Ablaze. “Got a favorite color?”

Ablaze picked up a black shirt, held it up against Floyd’s chest, and studied him with a critical eye. “Black’s always a hit. And I have to admit—it makes your magenta eyes stand out.”

Floyd arched a brow, smirking. “Oh? So you’re already fixating on my eyes?”

Ablaze rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Don’t get excited. I just want you to at least look presentable after your little smoothie disaster.”

Floyd gasped, feigning offense. “My disaster? Technically, you crashed into me.”

Ablaze crossed his arms, arching a skeptical brow. “Technically?”

Floyd grinned, stepping just a fraction closer. “Well… maybe it was fate. Maybe the universe just wanted us to be closer. Who knows? Maybe we’re destined to keep bumping into each other.”

Ablaze held his gaze for a beat longer than necessary. Then, with an exasperated sigh, he tossed Floyd the shirt. “Go change,” he muttered, though there was undeniable warmth in his voice. “Before I really regret this date.”

Floyd caught the shirt effortlessly, flashing Ablaze a smirk before slipping into the small makeshift fitting room behind the stall. Yeah… he was definitely in trouble.

From inside, his voice carried out, smooth and teasing. “Are you standing guard in case I try to escape?”

Ablaze sighed dramatically. “I doubt you could get far with that smoothie stain. I’d spot you a mile away.”

Floyd poked his head out, grinning. “So you would be looking for me?”

Ablaze arched a brow, feigning disinterest. “Only because it’d be humiliating to say my date ran off halfway through.”

Floyd chuckled, retreating to finish changing. Moments later, he stepped out, adjusting the new shirt with an easy confidence.

“What do you think?”

Ablaze’s gaze swept over him slowly—deliberately. He tilted his head, pretending to consider. “Mmm… it’s fine.”

Floyd gasped, pressing a hand to his chest as he strolled toward the counter. “Just fine? Not even a ‘Wow, Floyd, you look amazing’ or ‘Damn, how handsome’?”

Ablaze shook his head, but Floyd didn’t miss the way his ears reddened just slightly.

“Don’t make me regret not leaving you in that tragic shirt.”

Floyd leaned in, lowering his voice just enough. “You’re such a mystery, Ablaze.”

He met his gaze, unimpressed. “And you talk too much.”

Before Floyd could retort, a surge of sound exploded through the festival—the opening chords from the main stage. The crowd stirred, moving toward the concert area as the lights flashed rhythmically.

Ablaze's eyes gleamed with excitement as he gazed toward the stage, and Floyd couldn’t help but smile.

“Do you want to go?”

“Of course,” Ablaze replied without hesitation.

Floyd didn’t wait—he took Ablaze’s wrist, his touch light but sure, and guided him through the thrumming crowd until they found a good spot. The bass reverberated through their bodies, the flashing lights painting their faces in shifting colors.

Somewhere in the pulse of the music and the press of the crowd, Ablaze shifted closer—probably by accident, but Floyd wasn’t about to complain. Then, just as he was about to tease him for it, Ablaze turned, his lips dangerously close to Floyd’s ear.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he murmured, his voice smooth, teasing. “Just because I’m here with you doesn’t mean I like you that much.”

A delicious shiver ran down Floyd’s spine, but he kept his composure, turning to face Ablaze with a slow, confident grin. “Sure, sure. And I’m positive you haven’t noticed my magenta eyes, or how this shirt fits me just right, or the fact that we’re standing very close right now.”

Ablaze narrowed his eyes, lips quirking in challenge. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Floyd let out a low chuckle. “I love that you try so hard to act tough.”

Ablaze smirked confidently, but a faint flush at the tips of his ears betrayed him. The music swelled, and as the night wrapped around them, Floyd could tell—this chaotic, unexpected date was going far better than either of them had planned. And judging by the glint in Ablaze’s eyes, he definitely wasn’t hating it.

***********************

John stood next to Bruce, both leaning against the counter as the last echoes of the day faded from the main store of Brozone & Sis Beats. The store had just closed, and with the quiet settling in, it was the perfect time to focus on business.

“…and I’m going to need you to talk to the investors about this month’s revenue.” John frowned as he noticed his younger brother’s distracted expression. “Bruce, are you even listening to me?”

Bruce straightened up quickly. “Yes, yes, you were talking about our business partners.”

John gave him a skeptical look. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.” Bruce answered a little too fast.

John rolled his eyes. “Please. I know you too well—spill it.”

“Seriously, it’s nothing.”

Across the room, where she was cleaning and rearranging some instruments, Brandy let out a laugh.

“Liar,” she sing-songed with amusement before flashing John a knowing smile. “My husband says that as soon as you figure out what’s bothering him, you’re going to make fun of him.”

John raised an intrigued eyebrow and turned to Bruce with renewed curiosity.

Bruce groaned, crossing his arms like a kid caught red-handed. “First of all, Brandy, traitor,” he accused dramatically, making her laugh again. “Second—hypothetically speaking, and I’m not saying this is what’s on my mind—but…”

John smirked. “But?”

Bruce sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “If I wanted to buy our sister—your daughter—a gift… you know, to get Floyd off the top of her ‘favorite brother’ list… what would you suggest?”

John blinked. Then, after a beat, he burst into laughter. “Seriously? This is what has you so worked up? I thought we settled that after the video call!”

“There shouldn’t even be a ranking!” Bruce huffed. “But here we are—and I’m losing. And I hate that.”

“Come on, taking first place from Floyd is a lost cause,” Brandy teased with a smirk.

Bruce shot her a look of mock betrayal. “Betray me again, and I'll be forced to tell Bruce Jr. who really ate the last slice of pie last night!”

Brandy opened her mouth to retaliate, but John cut in with amusement.

“Back to the real issue,” he said with a grin. “Brandy has a point, Brucie. But if you insist on trying, remember—Branch isn’t one to be swayed by material things. Still, I’m looking forward to watching you fight for my little Bluebell’s love and affection.”

JD chuckled, and Brandy grinned. “We’ll have to get the popcorn ready.”

Bruce huffed, looking thoroughly offended. But before he could argue, John gestured at the papers on the counter.

“You can be offended later. Right now, I need you to focus.”

Bruce let out a dramatic sigh and nodded in reluctant defeat. The brothers turned their attention back to their work, while Brandy resumed arranging the instruments.

The silence didn't last long. The chime of the front door rang through the shop.

John lifted an eyebrow at Bruce, silently reprimanding him for not locking it properly.

Bruce cringed. “Sorry, but we’re clo—” The rest of his sentence faltered when he saw who had walked in.

The visitor smiled and shrugged. “Lucky me. I’m not here to buy instruments anyway. And I need all of your attention, which is impossible with customers around.”

The familiarity of the voice made John pause. He looked up from the documents and studied the newcomer carefully.

“Viva Beaumont.” His tone was a careful mix of curiosity and alertness. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Viva folded her arms, a smug smile playing on her lips. “My father sent me to start organizing the wedding between Branch and Poppy.”

Silence.

Brandy froze mid-motion, Bruce blinked rapidly, and John slowly leaned against the counter, lacing his fingers together in feigned composure.

“Well…” John finally broke the quiet. “Looks like closing the store is going to take a lot longer than expected.”

Brandy let out a low whistle, shaking her head with a smirk. “Oh yeah,” she muttered. “I’m definitely bringing popcorn.”

Chapter Text

As soon as Branch met up with Smidge and Poppy, the former grabbed her hand and eagerly pulled her toward the makeup booth she had spotted earlier.

“What exactly are you planning to do to yourself?” Branch asked, both curious and amused by the other girl's enthusiasm.

“Come on! You're getting something done too, got it?” Smidge declared with determination.

Branch rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. “Got it.”

The moment they reached the booth, Smidge wasted no time sitting Branch down in the chair, making sure she had no chance to back out.

“What would you like to do with your face?” the makeup artist asked, offering a friendly smile.

Branch shrugged. “Do whatever you want, just keep it simple and make sure it matches what I'm wearing.”

The artist nodded and began preparing the materials. As soon as the brush touched her skin, Branch closed her eyes, letting the expert work. She felt the soft strokes sweeping across her face, the coolness of the stones as they adhered, and the precise glide of the eyeliner along her lids.

When the artist finally stepped back, Branch opened her eyes and looked in the mirror. A stunning turquoise mask adorned the upper half of her face, decorated with tiny colored stones that shimmered in the light. Her eyes were accentuated with blue shadow and silver eyeliner, adding a sophisticated touch.

“Wow, you look amazing!” Poppy exclaimed with a bright smile.

“I knew it would suit you!” Smidge said, clearly pleased with the result.

Branch studied her reflection for a moment. She wasn’t used to wearing makeup like this, but she had to admit—it looked good.

“Not bad,” she said with a half-smile.

“Now it's my turn! I want a mask too, but make mine look like a galaxy, please!” Smidge announced eagerly as she plopped into the chair. The makeup artist chuckled and got to work.

Poppy watched the scene with bright eyes, soaking in the lively atmosphere. When Branch stepped up beside him to wait for Smidge, he couldn't help but grin a little wider.

“That makeup suits you,” he remarked casually, glancing sideways at her.

Branch shot him a quick look before folding her arms. “Thanks… I guess.”

Poppy chuckled at her reserved response. But rather than being discouraged, he saw it as a challenge. There was something about the sapphire-eyed girl’s quiet demeanor that intrigued him. More than that, it made him want to close the distance, to understand what was going on in her mind.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone if I find out you actually love it,” he teased with a playful smirk.

Branch let out a small snort, but the barely-there curve at the corner of her lips made Poppy feel a tiny victory.

Emboldened, he decided to push a little further. “Do you like coming to festivals like this?”

Branch shrugged. “I don’t go to many, if I’m being honest.”

“So… does that make this one special?”

Branch rolled her eyes, clearly catching onto his attempt to dig deeper. Yet, the small smile never left her face.

“I just happened to end up here,” she replied, her tone neutral but not dismissive.

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Poppy said, his voice sincere. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t have met.”

Branch blinked, as if she hadn’t expected that answer. She quickly looked away, as though trying to hide the warmth creeping onto her cheeks.

“Yeah… I guess so,” she murmured.

Poppy couldn’t help but smile. It was barely a small breakthrough—but it was enough. And he wasn’t about to give up that easily.

Before Poppy could say anything else, the makeup artist announced she was done with Smidge, who eagerly spun around to show off her galactic mask.

“What do you think?” Smidge exclaimed, eyes gleaming as she awaited her friends' reactions.

Poppy forced himself to look away from Branch, though his resolve remained firm. He was going to earn her trust… and maybe even something more.

“You look great, Smidge,” he said with a warm smile. Branch, for her part, simply nodded in approval.

“All right, now it's your turn,” Smidge declared, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“My turn?” Poppy blinked, caught off guard.

“Did you think you'd just be a spectator? No way! Sit down and pick a design before we miss the best spots at the concert. And don’t overthink it.”

Branch chuckled at Smidge’s scolding while Poppy let out a small sigh, surrendering with a smile as he took his seat.

“Brandy, why don’t you pick my design?” he asked, turning to her expectantly.

Branch blinked, visibly surprised. “Me? Are you sure? I didn’t even choose one for myself.”

Poppy chuckled. “All the more reason for you to pick mine. Besides, I’m afraid of what Smidge might choose.”

Smidge scoffed, feigning offense but saying nothing as Branch eyed Poppy with uncertainty.

“I’m not promising anything extravagant or flashy,” she warned.

“That’s exactly why I’m asking you,” Poppy replied, his smile unwavering.

Branch exhaled, considering for a moment before turning to the makeup artist. “Something minimalist—small geometric and star designs.”

The makeup artist nodded and got to work. She traced two small stars on Poppy’s forehead, then added angular lines and lightning bolts at the outer edges of his magenta eyes, blending black and white shades for a striking yet understated effect.

When she finished, Poppy looked at his reflection and grinned. “I love it. I knew I could trust your taste, Brandy.”

Branch rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth lifted in a small smile. “It wasn’t a hard decision.”

Smidge snapped her fingers. “Perfect! Now let’s go before we lose the best spots!”

The three of them made their way toward the stage where the techno concert was about to take place. Without warning, Smidge grabbed Branch and Poppy’s hands, using her small stature to her advantage as she weaved through the dense crowd, determined to get as close to the front as possible. Branch and Poppy exchanged a quick glance before hurrying to keep up, dodging swaying bodies and flashing wristbands.

Finally satisfied with their spot, Smidge released their hands and turned her attention to the stage, her excitement palpable.

A deep, rumbling bass vibrated through the air as strobe lights bathed the crowd in neon, signaling the start of the concert. Pulsing electronic beats surged through the speakers, wrapping the audience in a hypnotic rhythm. Smidge immediately lost herself in the music, her movements syncing effortlessly with the electrifying sound.

Poppy turned to Branch, his face illuminated by flickering lights. “Do you like this kind of music?” he asked, raising his voice over the driving beat.

Branch nodded, her eyes fixed on the stage. “It's interesting. The energy is intense.”

Poppy’s gaze dropped to her hands—Branch's fingers were subtly tapping the air, following the beat.

“Then move!” he encouraged, taking her hand without thinking.

Branch froze. The unexpected contact sent a jolt through her, and for a brief moment, she considered pulling away. But something about Poppy’s easy, natural smile made her hesitate.

The lights shifted to an electric blue hue as the music built toward an explosive drop. The crowd surged in unison, and in the chaos, Poppy lost his balance, instinctively gripping Branch’s arm to steady himself.

“Sorry!” he exclaimed, though he didn’t immediately let go.

Branch turned toward him, their faces inches apart, the pulsating bass reverberating through their bodies. The shifting neon lights painted his features in shades of purple and turquoise, his eyes bright with exhilaration.

Smidge, watching from the side, smirked but chose not to interfere.

Another wave from the audience sent them even closer, and Poppy caught the warmth of Branch’s breath against his skin—a sharp contrast to the cool breeze sweeping through the venue.

A slow grin spread across his face. “I think the universe is conspiring.”

Branch’s breath hitched. Quickly, she averted her gaze and pulled away—not abruptly, but with a subtle, almost reluctant motion. Yet, even as she turned back to the stage, her heart pounded in perfect sync with the music.

The DJ intensified the mix, sending waves of sound pulsing through the air as flashing lights bathed the dance floor. Poppy raised his arms, surrendering to the rhythm, his movements fluid and effortless. Branch tried to focus on the music, but her gaze kept drifting back to him—drawn by something inexplicable. There was a magnetism to the way he moved, a confidence that unsettled her, making her feel both vulnerable and on edge.

Just as she forced herself to look away, Poppy turned his head and caught her staring. For a fleeting second, neither of them moved. The music filled the space between them, but everything else—the lights, the crowd, the pounding beat—faded into the background. Their locked gazes hummed with something unspoken, something electric.

Smidge, ever observant, glanced between them and smirked.

Before anything could tip over the edge, the DJ dropped another heavy bassline, sending the crowd into a frenzy. The spell shattered.

Branch exhaled sharply, grounding herself.

Poppy, on the other hand, simply smirked. “The universe is definitely trying to tell us something,” he murmured.

Branch rolled her eyes, but the warmth creeping up her neck betrayed her.

The music pounded on, the tension between them lingering in the air like static. Smidge danced on, looking far too pleased with herself.

Laser lights carved through the thick bass, and vibrations rumbled beneath their feet. The crowd moved in sync, but Branch struggled to match their rhythm, her focus stubbornly snagging on Poppy. Why him? He was just some guy she’d met days ago. So why did every accidental brush, every glance, send a rush of something chaotic through her chest?

The DJ transitioned to a slower, deeper beat—still pulsing, still hypnotic, but heavier in a way that made the air feel denser.

Smidge took the opportunity to turn to them with an all-too-innocent smile. “I’m going to grab some water. You want anything?”

Branch narrowed her eyes. She knew exactly what Smidge was doing. “No. We’re fine.”

“Great. Be back in a few.” Smidge flashed a grin and disappeared into the crowd before they could protest.

Branch exhaled slowly. Now it was just her and Poppy, caught in a sea of flashing lights, pulsing music, and stolen glances.

Poppy leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing. “Looks like Smidge wants us to spend more time together.”

Branch snorted softly. “She’s not exactly subtle.”

Poppy chuckled, the sound rich and effortless, a contrast to Branch’s guarded demeanor. “And is that such a bad thing?” he asked, his gaze lingering on her a second too long.

Branch opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, the DJ shifted the beat, the bass rolling through the room in deep, rhythmic waves. The crowd surged, bodies colliding, and before she could react, Poppy grabbed her hand and pulled her closer.

“Come on! Just go with it,” he said, his grip firm but easy.

Branch tensed, hyper-aware of the warmth of his palm against hers. “I’m not the dancing type,” she murmured, trying to sound indifferent, though her heart betrayed her with its quickened pace.

Poppy’s smile was pure mischief. “You don’t have to be. Just feel it.”

The music pulsed through the floor, through their bodies, through every breath between them. The energy of the crowd wrapped around them like static electricity, but all Branch could focus on was him—his proximity, the heat radiating from his skin, the way their movements slowly synced without thought or effort. Every accidental brush sent sparks tingling across her skin.

Then, as if sensing the shift, the DJ dialed the volume down, building toward another drop. The anticipation hung thick in the air.

And in that charged silence, Poppy lifted his gaze and met hers.

There it was again.

That pull.

That invisible thread tightening between them.

Branch’s breath caught, her pulse hammering. Poppy’s magenta eyes, glowing under the shifting lights, held her in place. For a fleeting second, he hesitated, barely perceptible—his lips parted slightly, his body leaning the smallest fraction toward her.

What is he doing?

But before the moment could snap, the drop hit like a thunderclap, shaking the floor beneath them.

Poppy jumped instinctively with the crowd, but as he landed, he stumbled—right into Branch. She caught him on reflex, hands steadying his waist before he could fall.

And suddenly, they were impossibly close.

His chest nearly brushing hers.

Their breaths mingling in the electric air.

Poppy let out a nervous, breathless laugh. “I always seem to end up in your arms.”

Branch felt the heat crawl up her neck. “Maybe you should learn to stand on your own.”

Poppy grinned, but he didn’t move away.

Neither did she.

The bass still pulsed through the air, vibrating beneath their feet, but for them, the music had faded into nothing more than a distant hum. The only thing that existed in that moment was the space between them—their locked gazes, the unspoken pull tightening like an invisible thread.

Then, just as the tension reached its peak, Smidge reappeared, two bottles of water in hand and a knowing grin stretching across her face.

“Did I miss something?” she asked, her tone laced with mischief.

Branch and Poppy jolted apart, moving with forced casualness—too quick, too obvious.

“Nothing,” Branch muttered, glancing away.

“Absolutely nothing,” Poppy echoed, scratching the back of his neck, though the ghost of a smile still played on his lips.

Smidge didn’t buy it for a second. She hid her smirk behind a sip of water, her eyes dancing with amusement. Something was definitely brewing between those two. And judging by the way they avoided each other’s eyes—but couldn’t quite hide their smiles—she had a feeling her best friend’s little scheme might just work after all.

Chapter Text

As the final note boomed through the air, the audience erupted in cheers, the stage lights flickering one last time before fading to black.

Branch exhaled deeply, feeling the sweat cling to her skin in the aftermath of the concert. She wasn’t used to events like this—too loud, too crowded—but she had to admit, it had been... fun. Especially with Poppy by her side. Branch didn’t want to acknowledge it, not even to herself, but there was something about the boy’s energy. The way he laughed, the way his eyes locked onto hers with that unshakable intensity... She shook her head, forcing the thoughts away.

Beside her, Poppy stretched his arms with a satisfied grin. “That was amazing, wasn’t it?”

Branch crossed her arms, feigning indifference. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You guess?” Poppy chuckled. “Come on, admit it. You had fun.”

Branch huffed, but the ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. She didn’t argue.

Smidge stepped forward, scrolling through her phone. “I’m gonna see if there’s a stall open to grab something to eat. I’ll meet you there,” she said, her tone casual—but the knowing glint in her eyes gave her away.

Branch narrowed her eyes as Smidge walked off. “Why do I get the feeling your best friend is ditching us on purpose?”

Poppy turned to her with the most innocent expression he could muster. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Branch sighed. There was no winning this.

The sound of the dispersing crowd surrounded them as they wove through the festival grounds. Despite the open space, the air between them felt charged, as if an invisible pull kept drawing them closer.

Poppy kept stealing glances at Branch, his heart drumming in anticipation. He’d enjoyed the concert—the music, the energy—but most of all, he’d enjoyed watching her. Every time their eyes met, every time Branch quickly looked away… Something was there. Something he couldn’t ignore.

He decided to test the waters. “Hey, Brandy…” His voice was softer this time, almost hesitant.

“Hmm?”

Poppy nudged a loose rock with his shoe, pretending to be casual. “I don’t really know much about you.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Other than the fact that you’re pretty good at catching clumsy guys like me.”

Branch let out a small chuckle. “It’s a natural talent,” she said, thinking of the many nieces and nephews she had kept from face-planting over the years.

Poppy laughed with her, but as much as he enjoyed the joke, it was her laughter that made his chest feel too tight. He glanced at her again, this time more openly. There was something about the way she carried herself—reserved, composed—yet in moments like this, she let herself soften, just a little.

Branch met his gaze and felt her pulse quicken. There was nothing inherently unusual about the way he spoke, the way he smiled… and yet, it unraveled her in ways she couldn’t explain. Poppy talked to her as if it were the easiest thing in the world. Meanwhile, Branch was drowning in thoughts she couldn’t quite name.

The tension between them thickened, humming with something unspoken. Then, someone from the crowd rushed past too quickly, bumping into Branch’s shoulder. She barely stumbled, but before she could even react, Poppy’s hand was on her wrist.

A sharp jolt shot through Branch's skin.

Poppy stilled. He felt it too.

For a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of them. The distant chatter, the festival lights, the movement around them—it all blurred. Their eyes locked, something passing between them that neither dared to name.

Poppy swallowed, his grip still gentle but firm.

Branch didn’t pull away.

And then—

“I found a waffle stand!”

Smidge’s voice shattered the moment.

Branch and Poppy sprang apart like they’d been caught doing something scandalous. Smidge raised an eyebrow, far too amused. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to.

Poppy cleared his throat, running a hand over the back of his neck, his smile strained. Act normal. Act normal. “Waffles! Sounds... delicious.”

Branch nodded—too quickly. Her heart was still racing. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Smidge gave them a knowing look, eyes narrowing slightly before she shrugged and walked ahead. Poppy and Branch lingered for a moment, caught in the charged silence of what had just happened. Neither of them said anything.

Then, as they started walking, their hands brushed. A fleeting touch. Barely anything.

But Branch felt the shiver roll up her arm, and before she could think better of it, she let her fingers slip between his—just for a second. Just long enough for them to feel it. Then, she pulled away. It wasn’t enough for anyone else to notice. But it was enough for them.

Poppy swallowed hard, sneaking a glance at her. His pulse was erratic. Branch, however, kept walking, her expression unreadable. But he caught it—the slight redness at the tips of her ears. A dead giveaway.

He bit back a smile.

And so the night continued, but something had shifted. A new awareness lingered between them, an unspoken weight in the air. Something neither was ready to name, but which was becoming impossible to ignore.

As they dined, Smidge leaned forward excitedly, elbows resting on the table. “What do you think about going to an arcade tomorrow?”

Branch raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to keep spending time with me?” she asked, suspicious. “Considering how many times you've conveniently disappeared on me today.”

Smidge laughed, shrugging with mock innocence. “I have no idea what you're talking about. I was just getting drinks. And, you know, finding food.”

Branch narrowed her eyes. Yeah, right. But before she could press further, she felt a gaze on her—his gaze.

As if pulled by an invisible thread, she turned her head. Poppy was watching her. Not just looking, but watching—those magenta eyes full of something too warm, too open. It was the kind of expression that made it clear: this mattered to him.

Branch inhaled sharply. Her resolve didn’t stand a chance. “Okay.”

Poppy’s face lit up instantly, his smile stretching wide. Smidge let out a triumphant exclamation. “I knew you’d say yes!”

Branch rolled her eyes, but the amusement tugging at her lips betrayed her. She might not have said it out loud, but she felt it.

And so did Poppy.

The conversation continued in a light, relaxed rhythm, but every so often, Branch and Poppy’s gazes would meet—fleeting, accidental. Until, in one of those moments, neither of them looked away.

Time slowed. The festival noise faded into the background.

Poppy was caught, completely lost in the depth of those sapphire eyes, and Branch felt her heart hammer against her ribs. She should break the stare. She should say something. But the warmth in his gaze made it impossible to move.

And then—

a low, amused laugh cut through the air.

“Well, well, well,” Smidge drawled, grinning. “Are you two just gonna keep staring, or can we finish eating?”

Branch snapped her head away so fast she almost gave herself whiplash. Poppy coughed into his hand, suddenly very focused on his plate. Smidge smirked before taking another bite of her food, as if nothing had happened.

But something had happened.

Branch could feel it, humming in the air between them. In the lingering glances. In the way her pulse still hadn’t settled. Something was shifting—something sweet, something inevitable. And this time, she couldn’t escape it. Branch couldn’t hide behind excuses, behind obligations. Her heart, silent witness to it all, whispered a truth she could no longer ignore.

The night continued to advance, but for them, something had remained suspended in the air. An echo of the unspoken.

After they finished eating, Smidge stretched contentedly and pushed back from the table. “Well, guys, I’m gonna see if they’re still selling cotton candy.”

Branch nodded, feigning indifference, though the relief of being left alone with Poppy wasn’t as unwelcome as it should’ve been.

“Don’t get a big one!” Poppy called after her. “You always complain when you can’t finish it!”

Smidge stuck her tongue out at him before disappearing into the crowd.

Silence settled between them—not awkward, but charged.

Branch tapped her fingers lightly against the table, gaze darting around the festival as if searching for an escape. Poppy noticed. And he wasn’t about to let her off the hook that easily.

“So… an arcade, huh?” He leaned forward slightly, grinning. “Are you good at video games?”

Branch snorted, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m not bad.”

Poppy’s grin widened. “That sounds like a fancy way of saying you’re about to get crushed by someone much better looking than you.”

Branch turned her head sharply, amusement flickering in her eyes. “So you think I’m good looking, huh?”

Poppy froze.

For a split second, the air between them thickened—too warm, too obvious.

He had said it without thinking, as easily as breathing. As if it were the most natural truth in the world.

“I mean...” Poppy cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. “The winning part was the important thing. The other part... well, that’s just a fact.”

Heat crawled up Branch’s neck. It wasn’t the first time someone had called her attractive—her brothers and Brandy reminded her constantly—but this time, for the first time, she felt the words settle deep inside her. And she cared. More than Branch wanted to admit.

She stirred her drink with the straw, watching the liquid swirl in lazy circles, but she could still feel Poppy’s eyes on her. Branch exhaled softly.

“Tomorrow, we'll see who the real winner is.”

Poppy’s lips curled into a slow, amused smile as he leaned in slightly. “Is that a challenge?”

Branch met his gaze, and for the first time that night, didn’t look away.

The night breeze carried the scent of caramel and fried dough, ruffling Poppy’s hair slightly. The festival lights swayed above them like floating fireflies, but in that moment, everything else faded. It was just the two of them, caught in an unspoken dare neither seemed willing to break. Finally, Branch blinked, forcing herself to look away as she picked up her trash with deliberate calm.

“We should go check on Smidge,” she said, feigning indifference.

Poppy leaned back with a chuckle, the tension easing—but only slightly. “I promise she’s fine. Though I am a little worried she’ll come back with a cotton candy twice her size.”

“Then all the more reason to find her,” Branch replied, tossing her cup into the nearest bin. “Besides, I’m concerned about your best friend jumping to strange conclusions.”

Poppy’s grin widened as he stood up beside her. “And what conclusions would those be?”

Branch ignored him and started walking. But Poppy was nothing if not persistent.

“Come on, Brandy,” he teased, matching her pace effortlessly. “Tell me, what scandalous things do you think Smidge is imagining?”

Branch sighed dramatically, her voice laced with mock innocence. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that someone here is flirting too much.”

Poppy chuckled. “Do you think so?”

“I'm sure.”

“Interesting...” He tilted his head slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make it dangerous. “Because maybe you're not wrong.”

A shiver crawled up Branch’s spine, stealing her breath for a second. Damn it. But she wasn’t going to let him win that easily.

“Gods, you’re unbearable,” Branch muttered, quickening her pace.

Poppy just laughed, easily keeping up. “And yet, you're going out with me tomorrow.”

Branch pressed her lips together, torn between rolling her eyes and laughing too. “With you and Smidge. Let’s make that clear.”

Poppy hummed thoughtfully, tapping his chin. “Oh, right, right… with Smidge.”

Branch narrowed her eyes. “Don't use that tone with me.”

“What tone?”

“That one!” She pointed an accusing finger at him.

Poppy grinned, leaning in just a little as they walked. “Does it make you nervous?”

Branch snorted, crossing her arms. “Please.”

But Poppy didn’t need her to admit it. The way her gaze flickered away, the way her ears tinted just the slightest shade of red—

It told him everything he needed to know. And Poppy liked knowing it.

Smidge appeared just then, struggling under the weight of a cotton candy nearly the size of her head. “I knew I’d find you two together!”

Branch sighed, relieved for the distraction. “Finally. Someone normal.”

Poppy placed a hand over his chest, gasping dramatically. “Are you implying I’m not normal?”

Branch flashed a saccharine smile. “I’m saying you’re a pain in the ass.”

Smidge squinted at them both, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of cotton candy before letting out a low chuckle. “Aha... yeah, right.”

Branch frowned. “What?”

Smidge just popped another piece of cotton candy into her mouth and started walking ahead of them. “Oh, nothing, nothing.”

Branch watched her with suspicion, but Poppy only shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I think my best friend really likes you.”

“Perfect,” Branch muttered, falling into step behind Smidge. “So now you can both annoy me together.”

Poppy chuckled under his breath but didn’t press further. He simply cast Branch a sidelong glance as they walked beneath the soft glow of the festival lights. He could feel it—something shifting between them, something warm and unfamiliar taking root. And if Branch thought she could still keep her distance, she was sorely mistaken. Because neither he nor Smidge would let her.

Poppy was never one to give up easily.

Chapter Text

Clay shut the door to his hotel room just in time to see his sister stepping into the elevator. Without a second thought, he rushed forward, slipping his hand between the closing doors. They parted with a soft chime, allowing him to step inside.

Branch frowned in surprise as he joined her. “What are you doing awake?” she asked, watching him slide into place beside her.

Clay crossed his arms. “I should be asking you the same thing. What time did you even get back last night?”

Branch let out a tired sigh, leaning against the elevator wall. “No clue. We stayed until the end of the concert, then wandered around the festival for a while. All I know is that it was late.”

Clay arched an eyebrow. “Well, Floyd got back from his date at midnight—like Cinderella—and we waited for you for about an hour. When you never showed, we gave up and went to bed. So yeah, you were late, dear little sister. I’m honestly surprised you’re up already.”

Branch rolled her eyes. “That’s called being responsible.” She stuck her tongue out at him before folding her arms. “I was planning to take over the stall this morning so you could get some rest.”

“Then I’m going with you. I can't let my favorite sister handle the customers alone so early.”

Branch smirked. “I'm your only sister.”

“And yet, you're still my favorite,” Clay said with a sly grin.

“Don't expect me to say the same about you.”

“I know. But it never hurts to try.”

The elevator chimed again, and the doors slid open to reveal the hotel lobby bathed in morning light. A few guests wandered about, coffee cups in hand, their quiet conversations blending with the soft hum of hotel life.

Clay turned to his sister as they walked toward the exit. “Ready to face the customers?”

Branch stretched her arms with a lazy smile. “Only if we buy some coffee on the way.”

“Deal.”

With that, they stepped outside, greeted by the crisp morning air. As they made their way to the festival, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the faint sounds of vendors setting up filled the air. Some were already arranging their merchandise, chatting with early risers. A new day had begun.

Clay stretched his arms and let out a long yawn. “This coffee better be worth it.”

“Stop complaining,” Branch nudged him lightly. “No one forced you to come.”

“I know, but what kind of brother would I be if I left you alone? Besides, I can't have you dealing with customers this early in the morning. You tend to wake up grumpy and, well... less patient.”

Branch shot him an indignant look, folding her arms. “That’s not true!”

Clay chuckled, shaking his head as they turned the corner. A small walk-in coffee shop was already open, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around them like a warm blanket.

“Good morning,” greeted the barista, a boy with tousled hair and round glasses. “What can I get you?”

“A double espresso,” Branch said without hesitation.

Clay grimaced. “How do you drink that stuff? I’ll have a cappuccino.”

The barista nodded and set to work, the quiet hum of the espresso machine filling the air. As they waited, Branch glanced around, watching as more people trickled into the shop, their chatter blending with the clinking of cups.

“Today’s going to be a good day,” she murmured, more to herself than to Clay.

“If you don’t pass out from exhaustion before noon,” he quipped.

Branch shot him a warning look just as the barista placed their drinks on the counter. Before she could react, Clay had already paid. She let out a resigned sigh.

“Don’t give me that look,” he said, smirking as he handed her the cup. “Consider it payment for entertaining me with your delightful morning moodiness.”

Branch snorted but took a sip of her coffee anyway. “Keep it up, and you’ll never take Floyd’s spot. Now come on, before the customers start piling up.”

With steaming cups in hand and caffeine kicking in, the siblings made their way toward their festival booth. The morning sun bathed the area in golden light, and the distant sounds of instruments being tuned filled the air—a promising start to the day.

When they arrived and opened the stand, Branch exhaled in relief. Everything was in its place—vinyl records neatly arranged on shelves, guitars hanging on display, and a small turntable ready to set the mood once the festival crowd rolled in.

“Thank goodness you didn’t leave this to the last minute,” she murmured, setting her coffee aside as she began double-checking everything.

Clay leaned casually against the counter, taking a slow sip of his cappuccino. “Yes, yes, I know—I’m incredibly responsible. You don’t need to remind me. But tell me, what do I have to do to become your favorite brother?”

Branch nearly choked on her coffee, coughing a couple of times before shooting him a look of disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that.”

Clay clicked his tongue. “Oh, come on. There has to be something I can do to score points.”

Branch pretended to think, then flashed a mischievous grin. “Well, I do need the afternoon off. Smidge wants to go to an arcade.”

Clay arched an eyebrow but couldn’t help smiling. “Look at you, making new friends. Up until now, I thought Brandy was your only one.”

Branch rolled her eyes. “Don’t exaggerate.”

Ignoring her protest, Clay took another sip of his drink, a hint of discomfort creeping into his expression. “Alright, but if I say ‘deal,’ where does that put me in the rankings?”

Branch chuckled. “Is JD competing?”

“No, your dad is permanently out of the competition.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but Clay held up a hand to stop her.

“Don’t even try to deny it—it’s obvious to everyone. I won’t make you admit it, though. So, with JD in a league of his own… where does that leave me?”

Branch took a slow, thoughtful sip of her coffee. “Second place.”

“Second?” Clay gasped in mock offense. “Who the hell is in first?”

She smirked. “We both know the answer to that—obviously, it’s Floyd.”

Clay let out an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I can live with that. But if I cover your shift all afternoon, I demand a promotion to the top spot.”

Branch’s smirk deepened. “Let’s negotiate that after you’ve actually worked.”

“I knew you’d say that.”

Their laughter was cut short as the first customers approached the booth. Branch straightened, slipping into work mode, while Clay took a deep breath, bracing himself for a long day.

Well, at least by the end of it, he could try to climb the rankings.

*************************

“Not that I dislike your presence, but it's too early for this. My brain is still waking up,” John groaned, dropping his head into his hand with a sigh. His tired eyes, clouded with stress and confusion, were glued to the massive book of fabrics and colors that Viva had hauled into the store earlier that morning.

The back office, usually a cozy retreat, now felt like a trap. John slumped at his desk, elbows propped on the table, while Brandy and Viva sat across from him, watching expectantly. Behind them, Bruce stood massaging his wife's shoulders, though his furrowed brow as he stared at the book suggested he was just as lost as his older brother.

“We should make the most of the morning!” Viva insisted, her smile unwavering. “Besides, this way you won’t have to stay late after closing. If we do it now, we’ll be ahead of schedule, and there’s no last-minute scrambling.”

“Planning a wedding takes time, JD,” Brandy added sympathetically, well aware of how much he loathed waking up any earlier than absolutely necessary.

John squinted at the book like it was an enemy. “But is all this really necessary?”

Bruce frowned, still fixated on the pages. “I don’t remember our wedding being this complicated.”

Brandy chuckled. “That’s because we hired someone to do most of the work.”

John turned his head slowly toward her, as if she had just solved all his problems. “And why don’t we do the same?”

Viva arched an eyebrow. “Because the bride and groom are on a trip. And the worst thing we could do is let a stranger plan their wedding without them.”

John let out a long, dramatic sigh and slumped back in his chair. “Fine… that makes sense. But it’s still too early for this.”

Viva flipped another page with purpose. “At least if we start now, I can make sure my brother doesn’t end up with a wedding he hates. And you two can do the same for your sister.”

Bruce and John exchanged a look. They were trapped. There was no way out.

“Why do I get the feeling this is going to be hell?” John muttered, massaging his temples.

“Because it will be,” Bruce replied, resigned.

Brandy chuckled, while Viva, unfazed by their complaints, opened her notebook with a determined air and clicked her pen.

“Alright, let's pick up where we left off yesterday,” the blonde announced, ready to dive in.

“Wait, wait, Viva,” Brandy cut in with a sly smile. “Why don’t we let the guys run the store while you and I stay here and plan the wedding? After all, I’m Branch’s best friend—I know her as well as her brothers.”

John felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He shot his sister-in-law a look of pure gratitude and mouthed, Thank you.

Viva simply shrugged. “Fine by me. As long as we make progress, that’s what matters.”

Bruce crossed his arms and huffed. “Your father really wants this wedding to happen as soon as possible, doesn’t he?”

Before he could react, Brandy’s elbow found his ribs.

“Ouch…”

“Don't be reckless, love,” she scolded, giving him a warning look.

Viva sighed, leaning her elbows on the table. “Look, I don’t exactly agree with planning this wedding without my brother here, but I don’t have much choice. My father gave the order, and I have to follow it.”

John stood, clapping Bruce on the shoulder before turning to Viva. “We get it. And forgive him, Miss Beaumont. My brother isn’t exactly a morning thinker.”

Viva gave him an amused glance. “Viva. Just call me Viva, please. And there’s nothing to forgive—I feel the same way. But since I’m stuck following orders, I need to make sure this wedding goes off without a hitch. I imagine you both want the same, don’t you?”

A brief silence fell over the room before they all nodded.

John exhaled, a small smile forming. “You’re right. My little girl deserves the perfect wedding. So, we’ll leave you with Brandy. I know you’ll do an excellent job.”

And before anyone could protest, he grabbed Bruce by the arm and steered him toward the door.

“Hey, hey! No need to shove!” Bruce grumbled, though he didn’t put up much of a fight.

Brandy watched John and Bruce disappear out the door before letting out a chuckle. “Well, now that the whiners are gone, we can finally work in peace.”

Viva nodded in satisfaction, flipping through a few pages of the massive book of fabrics and decorations. “Perfect. We need to decide on the color scheme before my father starts pushing for something like gold and bright red.”

Brandy grimaced. “Oh, God... that sounds—”

“Horrible, I know,” Viva finished, rubbing her temples. “I love him, but let’s just say interior design is not his calling.”

Brandy leaned across the table, intrigued. “I don’t know your brother, so you’ll have to fill me in.”

Viva nodded, shrugging slightly. “Poppy’s always been drawn to vibrant colors. He loves pink, light blue, green—anything that stands out.”

Brandy smiled. “Branch, on the other hand, prefers cool tones.”

Viva raised a curious eyebrow. “Really? I haven’t had much of a chance to get to know her.”

“Branch is more reserved,” Brandy explained, “but I know she doesn’t like anything too flashy. The key is going to be finding a balance so they both feel comfortable.”

Viva turned another page, her finger stopping on a palette featuring shades of blue with subtle accents of pink and green. “How about this? It keeps the coolness of blue but has the energy of the colors Poppy loves.”

Brandy studied it for a moment before nodding. “I like it. It’s elegant without being boring.”

With a shared look of agreement, they began selecting fabric swatches and decorative details, bouncing ideas back and forth on how to merge the bride and groom’s styles—without making the wedding look like a chaotic color explosion.

After a while, Brandy sighed and rested her chin on her hand. “You know, I’m really glad we’re doing this together.”

Viva glanced at her curiously. “Why do you say that?”

Brandy smiled. “Because this wedding means a lot to our families. And even though we started all this out of obligation, I want Branch to have something special. I know you feel the same way about Poppy.”

Viva exhaled softly, as if reluctant to admit it out loud. “I guess I do.”

Brandy picked up a swatch of fabric, holding it up to the light. “Then let’s make it worth their while.”

Viva studied her for a moment before a small smile tugged at her lips. “Alright. What’s next? Flowers or reception decorations?”

“Flowers first. If we let Bruce choose, we’ll end up with something straight out of a tragic comedy.”

They both laughed before diving back into their work, feeling just a little more confident that everything would turn out just right.

Chapter Text

Hours later, Floyd strolled up to the festival booth, his trademark relaxed smile firmly in place. The moment Branch and Clay spotted him, their faces lit up in unison.

As soon as Floyd was within earshot, Branch leaned forward eagerly, unable to contain herself.

“How was your date yesterday?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Floyd let out a deep, amused chuckle. “How much detail do you want?”

Clay smirked and raised a playful eyebrow. “As long as it doesn’t turn into an erotic novel, spill as much as you want.”

All three burst into laughter, the easy camaraderie evident in their shared humor. But as soon as the laughter settled, Branch and Clay instinctively leaned in, both wearing identical expectant grins.

Floyd sighed, shaking his head with a knowing smile. “Well, it went great. Ablaze is... whew, that guy is smooth. I’m used to being the flirt, but he kept up with me—maybe even outdid me. Not gonna lie, I kind of loved it,” he admitted with a small, sheepish laugh as a faint blush crept up his face. “We’re not seeing each other today because he already had plans with his friends, but we’ve got another date tomorrow.”

Branch and Clay immediately locked eyes, and in that single glance, a silent conversation passed between them—one filled with amusement, unspoken words, and the kind of teasing only siblings could perfect.

Floyd’s eyes narrowed the second he noticed. “Oh, no... I know that look.”

“What look?” Clay said, feigning innocence far too dramatically to be convincing.

“We’re just happy for you!” Branch added, though the mischievous twinkle in her eye betrayed her.

“Uh-huh. Sure,” Floyd said dryly, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, enough about me. How was your girls’ night out, my Sapphire?”

Branch’s face heated up instantly as vivid memories of the previous night flashed in her mind—particularly the moments when Poppy had been just a little too close. Almost on instinct, Branch averted her gaze, but the subtle movement didn’t escape Floyd and Clay. They exchanged another glance, this time brimming with curiosity and silent suspicion.

Neither pressed Branch about her reaction—for now.

“It was fun, and Smidge seems to like me because we're going to an arcade today.”

“Really?” Floyd asked, raising an eyebrow in genuine surprise.

Branch nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Clay already gave me the afternoon off.”

“In exchange for the top spot on the list of favorite brothers,” Clay added smugly, crossing his arms with a self-satisfied grin.

Floyd let out a chuckle, tilting his head. “Oh, really? Bold move. I’ll give you credit for that… but you’re not stealing my spot that easily.”

Branch and Clay exchanged confused glances.

“What are you planning?” Clay asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Floyd casually stretched his arms, feigning nonchalance before delivering his counterattack. “My beautiful Sapphire, as you know, I have a date with Ablaze tomorrow. That means Clay will need your help at the booth while I’m gone—because, obviously, it wouldn’t be fair if we both kept abandoning it.” He paused for effect, watching their reactions. “But… how would you feel about having the entire day after tomorrow completely off? You love exploring new places when we travel, don’t you?”

Branch’s eyes widened, sparkling with excitement. Clay, on the other hand, gawked at Floyd like he had just pulled off the biggest betrayal in history.

“Are you serious, Floyd?” they asked at the same time—Branch’s voice filled with excitement, Clay’s with sheer disbelief.

Floyd smirked. “Of course! Your happiness is my priority, my Sapphire.”

“Flo Flo, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Branch practically tackled him into an enthusiastic hug.

Floyd laughed, wrapping his arms around her just as tightly. Meanwhile, Clay watched the scene unfold with a deepening frown. The moment Floyd caught his gaze, he turned his head slowly, wearing the smuggest expression imaginable, and gave Clay a playful little wave—his silent but deadly victory signal.

Clay groaned dramatically, letting his head fall back. “Great... back to second place again.”

Branch giggled. “Cheer up, Clay. You can always try again.”

“Yeah, yeah, just you wait...” Clay muttered, rolling his eyes, though there was no real bitterness in his voice.

Floyd grinned in satisfaction, and the three of them fell into easy laughter—the kind that only comes from years of shared memories, trust, and the unbreakable bond of family.

*************************

The best friends stood in front of the arcade, buzzing with excitement. They had found it the night before with Branch’s help and a map, and now, anticipation filled the air.

Poppy turned to Smidge with a pleading look. “Smidge, please don’t be so obvious about ditching us. Brandy already suspects what you're up to.”

Smidge smirked, utterly unbothered. “Maybe. But based on what you told me, you already made it clear you’re flirting with her.”

Poppy let out a groan. “Yeah, but what if Brandy thought I was joking? Or worse… what if she doesn’t feel the same way and is just gently friend-zoning me?”

Smidge rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Beaumont! It’s obvious she’s attracted to you too. Now, are your feelings stronger? Definitely. Do we know if hers go that deep yet? Not entirely. But trust me, there's something there.”

Poppy hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent. And even though I wasn’t convinced about your plan at first, now that I see the potential, I’m fully on board.”

Poppy narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What exactly are you planning?”

Smidge winked. “You’ll see. But for now, act natural—here comes Brandy.”

A shiver of nervous energy ran through Poppy as he followed Smidge’s gaze. Branch was walking toward them, her sapphire eyes twinkling, a coy smile playing on her lips.

“Hey, ready to lose?” Branch teased, crossing her arms with playful confidence.

Poppy cleared his throat, forcing a grin. “Sure… but don’t celebrate just yet.”

Branch’s smile widened as she stepped past him, and for the briefest moment, her hand brushed against his. It was so casual, so fleeting—yet Poppy felt it like a spark running through his veins.

Smidge elbowed him lightly. “Told you. There’s definitely something between you.”

Poppy swallowed hard, his heart thudding. Yeah… there was something. Now, he just had to figure out how much closer he could get to the sapphire-eyed girl.

The arcade buzzed with flashing lights and electronic sounds, a perfect backdrop for excitement. Smidge wasted no time dashing toward a dance machine, throwing Poppy a competitive smirk.

“Come on, Pop! Let’s see if those moves you show off at parties actually mean something here.”

Poppy let out a laugh, stepping onto the digital dance floor beside her. “You’re on!”

As the music blasted through the speakers, they both moved to the beat—Smidge with power and precision, Poppy with fluidity and charisma. The scoreboard flickered as the final score appeared.

Poppy had won by a single point.

“No way!” Smidge clutched her head in disbelief before grinning. “Alright, fine, I accept my defeat... for now.”

Poppy shot her a triumphant wink. “Told you, Smidge—charisma always wins.” Then, turning to Branch, he added, “What about you? Think you can take me on?”

Branch folded her arms, a confident smirk playing on her lips. “Sure, but not on a dance machine. I prefer something more... strategic.”

Poppy raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Are you saying you'd beat me in a skill-based game?”

Branch leaned in just slightly, her voice teasing. “I'm not saying it... I'm going to prove it.”

Before Poppy could react, she grabbed his arm and led him toward a first-person shooter machine. The unexpected contact sent a pleasant shiver down his spine, but he bit back any reaction. Smidge, watching the exchange, simply smirked to herself.

They each grabbed a plastic pistol, stepping into position. Smidge crossed her arms, chuckling. “This should be fun.”

The game started, and the screen filled with virtual enemies. Poppy fired quickly, relying on speed, but Branch was calm, precise—too precise. Every time he thought he was pulling ahead, she would land a flawless, almost effortless headshot.

Poppy let out a nervous laugh. “Okay, where did you learn to shoot like that?”

Branch shrugged with a smug smile. “Let’s just say... I’ve had practice.”

JD’s survival and self-defense lessons were coming in handy, even in something as trivial as an arcade game.

“Poppy, she's kicking your ass!” Smidge called out, laughing from behind them.

Poppy barely heard her—his focus was locked on Branch, who, despite her cool exterior, had a playful glint in her sapphire eyes. This was more than just a competition. It was a game of push and pull, a challenge laced with unspoken tension. And Poppy was more than willing to play.

He frowned, determination flashing in his eyes as he gripped the plastic gun tighter. Poppy refused to go down without a fight. For the final round, he leaned forward, focusing intensely on the screen… only for Branch to do the exact same thing at the same time. Their arms brushed, and the unexpected warmth of her skin sent a jolt through him. For a split second, his mind went completely blank.

“Ah!” Poppy yelped as a virtual enemy landed a hit on him.

Branch let out a soft, melodic laugh and stepped back just slightly, glancing at him with a teasing smirk. “Did I distract you?”

Poppy blinked, his heart pounding in his chest. “No... I mean, yes, but not in the game.”

Branch paused, as if processing his words. A faint blush crept up her cheeks before she could respond the game ended.

The screen flashed “WINNER: PLAYER ONE” in bold letters, and Brandy's name took the top spot on the scoreboard.

“Ha! I knew it!” Branch threw her arms up in victory, grinning. “And that is how the game is played, Mr. ‘Charisma always wins’.”

Poppy sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Unbelievable... I let myself lose.”

Smidge snorted. “Oh, please. Just admit it—Brandy's better at video games than you are.”

Poppy huffed and turned to Branch, folding his arms with mock resentment. “Only because she distracted me.”

Branch met his gaze with a playful grin, her voice dropping to a teasing challenge. “Then maybe you should learn to concentrate better.”

Poppy’s stomach flipped. There was something about the way she held his gaze, unwavering. The way her fingers still idly traced the trigger of the plastic gun, as if the adrenaline from the game was still buzzing in her veins. The air between them felt charged, the lingering tension unspoken but undeniable. Smidge, sensing the shift in atmosphere, decided to cut in before the arcade burst into flames.

“Alright, so what’s next? Or do you two need a moment alone to process Poppy’s humiliating defeat?”

Poppy instantly flushed. “Smidge!”

Branch just laughed, stepping away from the machine with effortless confidence. “Come on, there’s still plenty more games to win.”

Poppy sighed, shaking his head with a reluctant smile as he followed her. His heart was still racing, and he had no doubt—something was happening between them.

And today was only proving it.

The three friends continued exploring the arcade, jumping from one game to the next, each more competitive than the last. After Poppy’s humiliating defeat in the shooting game, they made their way to the racing area, where three sleek car simulators awaited them.

“This time, I’m going to win,” Poppy declared, adjusting his seat and gripping the steering wheel as if his pride depended on it.

Branch, settling into the seat next to him, smirked. “Are you sure? Because after earlier, I’m starting to think you crack under pressure.”

Poppy turned to her, narrowing his eyes. “That was an accident!” he protested, but the warmth creeping up his neck betrayed him.

Smidge snickered from the other side. “Less talking, more racing. May the best player win!”

The countdown appeared on screen.

Three… two… one… GO!

The cars roared to life, and Poppy surged ahead, overtaking Branch and Smidge at the first turn. His heart pounded with exhilaration.

“That’s it, Poppy. Just keep the lead,” he told himself, a triumphant grin spreading across his face.

But Branch—calm, collected, and clearly up to something—held back. Poppy barely had time to process it before, with impeccable timing, she took a hidden shortcut he hadn’t even noticed.

“Wait—how did you—?!” Poppy gawked as she effortlessly shot past him.

Branch cast him a sidelong glance, her voice smooth and teasing. “Strategy.”

And maybe it was just the neon lights flickering around them, but there was something in her gaze—something playful, something challenging—that sent a jolt straight through him.

Poppy gritted his teeth and pushed forward, but at the final turn, Branch skillfully cut him off, crossing the finish line just as his car skidded behind hers. Smidge slid into second place.

And Poppy? Third.

“Come on! Even Smidge didn’t let me take second place!” he groaned, slumping against the seat.

Branch leaned toward him, her face dangerously close, her voice velvety with amusement. “Admit it. I was better.”

Poppy’s breath hitched.

She was too close.

Too close.

The neon lights reflected in her sapphire-blue eyes, and the confidence in her smirk sent his heart into a frenzy. He swallowed hard, scrambling for composure.

“Ugh, fine! Yes, I admit it. But I’m warning you—next game, you won’t be so lucky.”

Branch’s smirk deepened, her gaze locking onto his. “We’ll see.”

Poppy barely registered Smidge watching them with a knowing smile. His mind was still replaying the way Branch had looked at him—like she was enjoying this game far more than just for the competition.

And maybe… he was too.

Chapter Text

After several rounds of rhythm games and a quick stop for sodas, Smidge challenged them to a game of pinball.

“Whoever scores the lowest pays for the next round of snacks,” she declared.

Branch and Poppy exchanged a glance before nodding in agreement. One by one, they took their turns at the machine. Smidge went first, setting a solid score. Branch followed, eyes narrowed in concentration, but only barely managed to surpass her. Then came Poppy’s turn.

The moment he stepped up, Branch moved beside him, watching. Closely. Too closely.

“Don’t be nervous,” she murmured near his ear, her voice laced with amusement.

Poppy stiffened. Oh, she was doing it on purpose. She was definitely doing it on purpose.

He tried to focus, really, but every time Branch leaned in to check the score, the soft brush of her arm against his—or the faint scent of something warm and distracting—made his thoughts stutter. His fingers slipped, his timing faltered, and within minutes, the game ended in disaster.

The machine flashed his defeat.

“No way!” Poppy groaned, running a hand through his hair.

Beside him, Branch laughed—actually laughed, a rare, delighted sound. “Oops. Did I throw off your concentration?”

Poppy turned, narrowing his eyes. "You did that on purpose."

Branch blinked at him, all mock innocence. “Me? Never.”

Smidge clapped her hands. “Well, Poppy, better grab your wallet. I’m in the mood for giant popcorn.”

Poppy sighed in defeat, trudging toward the snack bar. The worst part? Branch definitely did it on purpose. And Poppy didn’t mind nearly as much as he should have.

Smidge watched her best friend walk away, then—without warning—grabbed Branch’s hand, firm and unyielding.

Branch tensed, eyes widening in surprise and something close to distrust. “What are you doing?” She instinctively tried to pull away.

Smidge didn’t answer. Instead, she led her toward one of the basketball machines, stopping in front of it with a determined expression. “You and I are going to compete,” she declared. “And we’re making a bet.”

Branch arched an eyebrow, wary but intrigued. “What kind of bet?”

Smidge’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “If you win, I’ll do anything you ask.”

Branch narrowed her eyes. “And if you win?”

Smidge crossed her arms. “If I win, you’re going on a date with Poppy tomorrow. Just the two of you. No me, no excuses.”

Branch froze. Her stomach twisted. “What?” She took a step back, her voice betraying more panic than she intended. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m completely serious.” Smidge didn’t budge. “And before you start arguing, listen to me.” She pointed a finger at Branch, her voice steady but insistent. “Poppy has feelings for you. That much is obvious. But what’s just as obvious is that you have feelings for him.”

Branch’s breath caught. Her jaw tightened. She quickly looked away.

“But…” Smidge continued, softer now, “something’s holding you back. Why? What’s stopping you from just… letting yourself feel it?”

A lump formed in Branch’s throat. She hated how easily Smidge saw through her. How her words prodded at the fear Branch tried so hard to ignore. Her fingers curled into fists. She stared at the ground, heart pounding.

A shaky sigh escaped Branch’s lips. “You’re right,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even understand what I’m feeling, but… there’s something about Poppy. It’s like a pull I can’t explain.”

Smidge’s smirk was instant. “I knew I wasn’t imagining it!”

But Branch didn’t smile back. Instead, she lifted her gaze, and in the dim arcade lights, anguish flickered in her eyes. “But nothing can happen between us.”

The certainty in her tone made Smidge’s smirk fade. “Why not?”

Branch bit her lip, trapped. The truth pressed against her ribs, suffocating. She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t confess that she’d been engaged since childhood to a stranger, bound to a fate she never chose.

So Branch did what she did best. She deflected.

“Because my brothers won’t let me have a boyfriend.”

Smidge blinked. “What?” Her disbelief was almost comical. “Brandy, you and Poppy don’t have to become a couple. I’m not saying you’re getting married tomorrow. I just want you to give him a chance.”

Branch shook her head, but Smidge wasn’t done.

“Look,” she pressed, voice softer now, “I get that you’re scared of how your brothers will react. But they don’t even have to know. Besides, after the festival, you can walk away and never see us again if that’s what you really want. But right now? You have a chance to figure out what this actually is.”

Branch swallowed hard. The words echoed in her mind, heavy and tempting. What if… what if she let herself feel, just for a few days?

A basketball hit her hands, jolting her back to reality. She looked up to see Smidge watching her, a knowing glint in her eyes.

“If you’re so sure nothing should happen with Poppy… then prove it.” Smidge stepped back, motioning toward the basketball machine. “Win.”

Branch stared at the ball in her hands. Its rough texture pressed against her fingertips, grounding her. She glanced at the glowing hoop ahead, the game awaiting her first shot.

Smidge folded her arms, smirking. “Ready?”

Branch exhaled slowly. If she won, Smidge would leave her alone. If she lost…

Did she really want to win?

Her fingers tightened around the ball. “Yes.” She said it firmly. More to convince herself than Smidge.

The machine beeped, and the countdown flashed onto the screen.

Thirty seconds.

Branch was the first to shoot. The ball sailed cleanly through the hoop. Almost simultaneously, Smidge took her shot—another perfect basket.

"Not bad," Smidge said, eyes gleaming. "But don’t get cocky."

Branch smirked and grabbed another ball. Swish. Another point.

The game escalated instantly. Both moved fast, balls flying from their hands in rapid succession. The rhythmic sound of shots hitting the backboard and sinking into the net filled the air. Their scores climbed, nearly neck and neck. Smidge wasn’t holding back—but neither was Branch. Her movements were sharp, fluid, precise. For the first time in a long time, Branch wasn’t overthinking. No engagement. No brothers. No Poppy. Just the game. Just the thrill of competition.

“Yes!” Smidge laughed as she landed another shot. “I knew you had it in you!”

Branch barely heard her. Adrenaline surged through her veins. She was winning.

Five seconds. Branch threw another shot—swish.

Three seconds. Smidge sank another basket. Their scores were almost tied.

Two seconds. Branch grabbed one last ball, but her fingers slipped on the release. The shot veered wide.

One second. Smidge launched her final ball—

Beep. Time out.

The screen flashed their final scores.

Smidge: 87 points.

Brandy: 85 points.

Branch’s breath hitched. Her chest rose and fell with excitement.

She lost.

Smidge wiped her forehead with her sleeve, then grinned victoriously. “Well, Brandy... looks like you’ve got a date tomorrow.”

Branch opened her mouth to argue—but nothing came out. No excuse. No way out. She had lost. Fair and square.

Smidge clapped a firm hand on her shoulder, steering her toward the tables near the snack bar. As soon as Branch sat down, Smidge folded her arms and gave her a pointed look, an eyebrow arched in mock warning.

“I’m gonna go find my best friend. You better not try to run, huh?”

Her tone was playful, but the message was clear.

Branch exhaled, staring at the glowing arcade lights around her. What had she just gotten herself into?

Meanwhile, Poppy leaned against the snack bar, absently sipping his soda as he waited for Smidge’s popcorn. His mind wandered—to the way Branch had leaned so close during the pinball game, to the way she laughed when he lost, to the way her sapphire eyes gleamed under the arcade lights. He shook his head. Focus.

“Beaumont!”

Smidge’s voice yanked him from his thoughts.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, turning toward his best friend.

Smidge stopped in front of him, wearing a grin so smug it made his stomach flip. “You have a date with Brandy tomorrow.”

Poppy choked on his soda. “WHAT!?”

Smidge beamed. “I know.”

Poppy’s heart stuttered. “Wait, wait... how did you pull that off?”

“Let’s just say I used my negotiating skills,” she replied with a wink.

Poppy narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”

“Nothing bad. I just gave her a little extra motivation.”

Poppy wasn’t convinced, but his mind was already spiraling elsewhere. Brandy agreed to go out with me. 

His fingers tightened around his soda cup. He had spent the entire afternoon stealing glances at her, feeling a strange tug in his chest whenever she smiled, but he never thought—never expected—that she would actually agree to a date.

Poppy swallowed hard. “Are you sure she wants to do this?”

Smidge rolled her eyes. “She is. Now just don’t screw it up, Poppy Beaumont.”

Before he could respond, the cashier handed over their snacks. Smidge grabbed her popcorn eagerly, already heading toward their table. Poppy followed, trying to balance the tray of chips, sodas, and—most importantly—the sapphire-eyed girl's nachos.

But his mind was elsewhere. Brandy agreed. She agreed. The thought sent a nervous thrill through him.

When they reached the table, Branch took her nachos and soda, offering him a small, almost shy smile. “Thanks, Poppy.”

Her voice was softer than usual. Or maybe Poppy was just imagining it.

“You're welcome,” he replied, forcing himself to act normal as he sat across from her.

But as Poppy picked up his soda again, his hands felt just the slightest bit unsteady.

Smidge settled in next to Branch, quietly munching on her popcorn. A comfortable silence fell over them as they ate, but Poppy couldn’t shake the feeling that something was lingering in the air—something unspoken, something charged.

A quiet anticipation floated between them.

Then, Branch broke the silence. “I've had too much fun today.” Her voice was light, sincere, and when she looked up at them with a small smile, Poppy felt warmth bloom in his chest.

But then, she hesitated. Her fingers absently played with her straw, her gaze dropping to her drink as if weighing her next words. “Hey, Poppy...”

Poppy straightened slightly. “Mmm?”

Branch didn’t answer right away. She took a beat—two—choosing her words carefully. Then, without looking up, she asked, “Yesterday… when you said you were hitting on me… were you kidding?”

Poppy’s breath hitched. What kind of question was that?

Smidge, mid-chew, arched an eyebrow and turned to Poppy expectantly.

He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to play it cool. He flashed a grin, even as his pulse quickened. “No… I wasn’t kidding.”

The moment stretched.

Branch studied him, those piercing sapphire eyes flickering with something unreadable. Poppy felt every second of that silence press against his skin. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. Had he just ruined the easy, teasing atmosphere they had built?

But then—she smiled.

Not her usual playful smirk. Not the mischievous, competitive grin he had seen earlier. This smile was small. Subtle. Almost intimate.

“Okay, that’s fine.”

Poppy blinked. “That’s it? ‘That’s fine’?”

Branch leaned in slightly, just enough for only him to hear when she murmured, “That’s fine… because I’ve been flirting with you today, too. In case I wasn’t obvious.”

Poppy’s brain short-circuited. His breath caught, his skin burned, and for the first time all afternoon, he had nothing—nothing—to say.

Smidge, who had been watching the entire exchange, smirked knowingly before popping another handful of popcorn into her mouth. Best bet she ever made.

Branch took a slow sip of her drink, then set it down with a casual shrug. “Besides, you and I are going on a date tomorrow, so it’s nice to know that my feelings are reciprocated.”

Poppy choked on his soda. “W-Wait, what?”

Branch propped her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her hand, her expression unreadable. “Smidge and I made a bet. I lost. Now I have to go out with you.”

Poppy stared at her, his mind scrambling to process what she had just said. Then, he turned to Smidge, who shot him a wink.

“You’re lucky she lost.” Smidge murmured with amusement, popping another piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Now, don’t blow it.”

Poppy barely heard her. His focus was solely on Branch. So… she was going out with him because of a bet?

A pang of disappointment settled in his chest, but before it could take root, Branch met his gaze, her sapphire eyes unwavering. Her voice softened. “Don’t worry. I’m not upset that I lost. I’m actually... excited.”

Poppy’s heart skipped a beat.

She meant it.

The sincerity in her voice, the way her lips curled into the faintest smile—it sent warmth flooding through him. His initial doubts melted away.

A slow, eager smile spread across Poppy's face as he reached across the table, taking her hands in his. “So… what do you say we head out early? We can have breakfast down by the beach and go for a swim.”

Branch tilted her head, pretending to consider it, but the amusement dancing in her eyes betrayed her. Then, finally, she smiled—soft, genuine, and just for him.

“I love that idea.”

A rush of happiness surged through Poppy, so strong it made his fingers tighten slightly around hers.

Tomorrow, he had a date with the owner of those beautiful sapphire eyes. And this time...

She wasn’t running away from him.

Chapter Text

“Wait, wait, wait—let me get this straight. Poppy, who is engaged to another girl, has a date tomorrow? And you helped him?” Milton's incredulous voice crackled through the phone screen.

Smidge chuckled at her boyfriend’s near-panicked tone before glancing at her best friend. Poppy was sprawled on the hotel bed, face buried in a pillow—probably trying (and failing) to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks.

Shaking her head, Smidge sighed. “What was I supposed to do? Say no?”

Milton exhaled sharply, folding his arms. “Poppy, that’s called being unfaithful.”

Poppy lifted his head just enough to shoot Milton a look of pure indignation.

“Milton, they don’t even know each other yet!” Smidge interjected, though a twinge of guilt told her she understood his concern.

Milton rolled his eyes, unimpressed. He fixed Smidge with a pointed stare. “Then he better not get too attached to this Brandy.”

A beat of silence.

“Too late for that,” Smidge admitted.

Milton let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning a reproachful gaze on his girlfriend. “Honestly, I'm not surprised, knowing Poppy's nature. But Brandy—does she know that whatever happens between you two is temporary?”

Poppy blinked in confusion and moved closer to Smidge to appear on the screen.

“What?”

Milton’s expression remained steady, unwavering. “Tomorrow, before the date starts, you need to be honest with her. The last thing you want is to break Brandy’s heart by letting her believe this could last beyond the festival. If you keep that from her just because it’s easier for you, then you don’t love her like you claim. She’s just a whim.”

“Brandy is not a whim!” Poppy snapped, crossing his arms and looking away, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“Then you won’t be afraid to set the record straight,” Milton countered, his voice firm. “And Poppy Beaumont—start reminding yourself that when you go back home, you’ll be facing your engagement again. There’s someone you’re supposed to spend the rest of your life with. Don’t hold on too tightly to Brandy unless you’re prepared for a miserable marriage.”

The air in Poppy’s chest grew heavier. He knew Milton wasn’t being cruel—he was just saying what Poppy had been trying to ignore. But hearing it spoken out loud made his reality feel inescapable.

“Milton! You’re being too harsh!” Smidge protested, shooting her boyfriend a disapproving glare.

Milton shook his head. “No, I’m bringing him back to reality. You know how dreamy Poppy can be.”

Poppy exhaled shakily, a lump forming in his throat, and gave a small nod. “Milton's right, Smidge...”

As much as it hurt, he knew he had to talk to Brandy. If he didn’t, he risked letting her believe in the same impossible dream that had already begun creeping into his own mind. That maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t temporary.

When Smidge ended the call, Poppy let out a groan and flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “Ugh... I hate it when your boyfriend is right,” he muttered, draping an arm over his face.

Smidge settled beside him with a chuckle. “Don't take it so personally. He wasn’t trying to be cruel.”

Poppy exhaled heavily. Milton’s words lingered in his mind like an anchor, weighing him down. Was he really being unfair to Brandy? Holding on to something he’d have to let go of sooner or later?

He didn’t want to think about that now. He just wanted to enjoy the time he had with her—without his engagement looming over him like a storm cloud.

Smidge nudged him gently. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I think Brandy’s smart enough to know what she’s getting into.”

Poppy opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. Instead, he abruptly sat up and shook his head. “I’m taking a shower.”

Smidge watched him retreat into the bathroom, an amused smile tugging at her lips. She knew him too well. He could pretend all he wanted, but the truth was obvious—he was already more attached than he should be.

*************************

Branch stared at the scene before her, caught between surprise and disbelief. In the corner of the booth, a few balloons bobbed gently, framing a small light blue cake with white accents.

In a chair, Floyd sat comfortably with his thermos of tea, his eyes flicking between her and the decorations, barely concealing his amusement. Meanwhile, Clay was practically glowing with pride, as if he’d just pulled off the grandest achievement of his life.

“What is this?” Branch asked, crossing her arms.

Floyd took a slow sip of tea before gesturing toward Clay. “Ask your brother.”

Branch turned to Clay, who met her gaze with an eager smile. Without a word, he extended a small gift box toward her. She hesitated before taking it, her confusion deepening.

“Clay, today is not my birthday... I'm pretty sure about that.”

“Nope, it's not,” Floyd confirmed, sipping his drink.

“I know,” Clay said, unfazed. His grin widened as he gestured to the setup. “But I just wanted to remind you that you’re the best sister in the world. So... happy unbirthday!”

Branch blinked. She let out a slow breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Floyd smirked and shrugged. “For the record, I tried to stop him. But he was convinced it was an amazing idea.”

“Of course you did! Because you don’t want me to become Branch’s favorite brother.” Clay gasped in mock offense. “You’re just jealous.”

Floyd leveled him with a flat stare. “Oh, yeah. That’s totally what keeps me up at night.”

Branch looked between the two of them, their banter as familiar as breathing. She let out a long sigh, shaking her head—though a small, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “You two are impossible.”

“Come on, Branch! Open it!” Clay urged, nudging the small box closer to her.

Branch snorted. Under the expectant gaze of her brothers, she began untying the ribbon, her fingers moving with deliberate care.

“If this is a joke, you both are going to regret it,” she warned, shooting them a pointed look.

“Please,” Clay gasped, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. “How could you doubt me?”

“Years of experience,” Branch deadpanned, not missing a beat.

Floyd smirked as he set his thermos on the counter, leaning slightly toward her. “For what it’s worth, I had nothing to do with it this time.”

Branch narrowed her eyes at him before finally lifting the lid. Inside, nestled in soft tissue paper, was a small star-shaped keychain. Her name was engraved in the center, and as she turned it over, she caught sight of another inscription. “You always shine, even when you don’t believe it.”

For a moment, Branch simply stared. The words blurred slightly as she traced them with her fingertips.

“Clay...” she murmured, unsure of what to say.

He grinned, watching her reaction closely. “I know you don’t always see yourself the way we do, so I wanted to remind you. Something small. Something you can’t ignore.”

A lump formed in Branch’s throat, but she swallowed it down, quickly slipping the keychain back into the box. “It’s... pretty,” she said at last, her voice softer than usual.

Clay’s smile turned teasing. “Admit it, you’re touched.”

“Shut up,” Branch muttered, turning away, but the tips of her ears had gone pink.

“I knew it!” Clay declared, nudging her playfully. “You love it.”

“Don’t push it,” she grumbled, though her usual sharpness lacked its usual bite.

Floyd, watching the exchange, rolled his eyes. “Sure, say that to the guy who threw an unbirthday party for his sister. Not excessive at all.”

Branch shook her head, exasperation laced with something warmer. As much as she tried to downplay it, having brothers like them meant more than she’d ever admit out loud.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to put up with your nonsense for the rest of the festival.”

“That’s right!” Clay declared, grinning. “And we’re going to make it unforgettable!”

“God… what did I get myself into?” Branch muttered, though deep down, a small part of her was grateful for this moment.

Floyd took another sip of his tea, unfazed. “Into a nice mess, as usual.”

Branch crossed her arms, giving them both a skeptical look. “I really can’t believe you two are actually competing for my favoritism.”

Both brothers shrugged in unison. “You’re worth it,” they replied.

Branch rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

“So… did I climb the rankings at all?” Clay asked eagerly, leaning in with anticipation.

Branch chuckled, shaking her head. “I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t overthink it,” Floyd interjected smoothly, “I’m already planning my counterattack.”

Branch smirked, shaking her head. Before they could continue their usual antics, she casually steered the conversation in another direction.

“Speaking of important things… What time is your date tomorrow, Flo Flo?”

Floyd arched an eyebrow. “In the evening. Why?”

Branch shrugged, feigning indifference. “I’m taking the morning break, going to the beach with Smidge.”

She said it so naturally, so effortlessly, that for a fleeting second, even she almost believed it. 

“Okay,” both brothers replied at the same time, not giving it much thought.

Clay, already focused on his slice of cake, pointed his fork at Branch mid-chew. “You’re getting along pretty well with Smidge, huh? You should ask for her number or something—before you forget.”

Branch blinked. “What do you mean?”

Floyd rested an elbow on the counter, studying her with mild amusement. “We mean, if you actually want to stay in touch with Smidge, you should make sure you have a way to reach her. Otherwise, your new friend will just be a nice memory of the festival.”

Branch hesitated. That was exactly what she wanted. For all of this—the festival, Poppy, the emotions she refused to acknowledge—to be behind her. Just a passing memory. But instead of letting that truth slip through her expression, Branch smiled with practiced ease.

“You’re right. Thanks for the reminder.”

Clay patted Branch’s shoulder before turning back to his cake. “Well, if you’re heading to the beach, enjoy it! Just don’t forget sunscreen.”

Branch snorted, rolling her eyes. “I’m not a kid, Clay.”

“You’re never too old to avoid a nasty sunburn,” Clay replied sagely. “And believe me, red is not your color.”

Floyd let out a quiet chuckle just as Branch grabbed a piece of cake and launched it at Clay. He barely managed to duck in time.

“Hey! That’s a waste of perfectly good cake!” he protested.

Branch smirked, crossing her arms. “It was worth it.”

Floyd shook his head in amusement as he picked up his tea again.

*************************

John Dory kept a watchful eye on his brother while also trying to follow the conversation inside the office between Viva and Brandy. It was barely dawn, yet they were already deep into wedding planning, as if they were racing against time.

“…and then my kids would come in and serenade Branchie,” Bruce finished enthusiastically, practically glowing with excitement. “What do you think?”

JD blinked, then let out a soft chuckle. “I think it's both ridiculous and adorable… but I still don’t get why you turned this into a competition.”

Bruce scoffed, crossing his arms. “Because Floyd made it a competition, JD. And you, of all people, should know how competitive us Chordwells can be. No way I’m letting those two leave me in last place.”

JD laughed, shaking his head. “Didn’t realize you were so desperate for validation.”

“I’m not! I just like winning.”

Before JD could reply, the sound of a door opening caught his attention. Viva and Brandy were stepping out of the office, their meeting apparently over.

“Viva, heading out already?” JD asked, drawing her attention.

“Yeah. Why? Do you need something?” she replied with a polite smile.

“Did you drive here?”

“No, I was just about to call my driver.”

JD spun his keys around his fingers. “Come on, I’ll take you.”

Viva raised an eyebrow. “You sure? I don’t want to trouble you.”

JD offered an easygoing smile. “It’s no trouble. Besides, I need to talk to your dad anyway.”

Viva hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “In that case, thanks.” She then turned to wave at the couple. “Bye, Bruce, Brandy!”

John Dory walked to the store’s exit, glancing back at Brandy with an amused smirk. “I’ll try to be back in time so I can pick up my nephews from school—wouldn’t want Bruce to die of loneliness.”

Brandy chuckled. “I’d appreciate it.”

“Hey! I’m not going to die of loneliness!” Bruce protested from the background. “I’ll be perfectly fine on my own, thank you very much.”

JD arched an eyebrow, barely suppressing a chuckle. “You sure? Because that sounded just a little desperate.”

“I’m not!”

JD and Brandy exchanged knowing glances before he shook his head, still amused. With that, he and Viva stepped outside, leaving Bruce’s faux dramatics behind.

JD opened the car door for Viva, waiting until she was seated before rounding the vehicle and settling into the driver’s seat. He started the engine, and the quiet hum of the radio filled the space between them as he pulled onto the road.

After a beat of silence, Viva turned to him with a light smile. “So… babysitting duty?”

JD let out a dry chuckle. “From time to time. Someone has to make sure Bruce doesn’t turn them into his clones. That would be a disaster.”

Viva laughed softly. “I heard there’s a competition for your sister’s favoritism. Not planning to join in?”

JD kept his eyes on the road, but a smirk tugged at his lips. “Please. I don’t need to compete. I know I’m her favorite.”

Viva arched a playful eyebrow. “Wow. That’s some confidence.”

The conversation flowed easily, with no awkward pauses or forced words. And for a moment, JD let himself enjoy Viva’s company, briefly setting aside the real reason he was driving her home.

JD guided the car into the Beaumont manor’s driveway, turning the wheel smoothly before cutting the engine. “Well, here we are,” he said, casting a brief glance at Viva.

She offered him a warm smile as she reached for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride.”

JD watched as she stepped out, moving toward the entrance with the effortless grace that always seemed second nature to her.

For a moment, he remained still, exhaling slowly as he closed his eyes. Meetings with Peppy Beaumont always put him on edge. With a quiet inhale, John pushed open the door and stepped out, steeling himself for whatever awaited him in that office.

Chapter Text

Arriving at the office, John Dory knocked firmly on the door, waiting for Peppy's attention.

“Come in,” came the firm reply from inside.

John opened the door and stepped in slowly. Peppy, seated behind his desk, set down the papers he had been reviewing and glanced up to see who had entered.

“To what do I owe this visit, John Dory?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

John sank into the chair across from him, resting his elbows on his knees. “Viva has been stopping by our main store every morning, without fail, to arrange the wedding. Why the rush?”

Peppy laced his fingers together and smiled, unbothered. “It's not a rush, John Dory. The perfect time has simply arrived for Branch and Poppy to tie the knot. I told you as much.”

John frowned. “I understand that, but at the pace they're moving, our kids will be married in three weeks. That’s going to be quite the shock when they get back from their trips.”

Peppy nodded. “It will certainly be a surprise—but a pleasant one. Besides, weddings take time. Why not save them the trouble?”

John placed a hand on the desk. “You're giving them almost no time to date.”

“Dating?” Peppy blinked, genuinely puzzled. “They'll have all the time to date once they’re married.”

John stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. “Are you serious? Branch and Poppy should go on dates to get to know each other before the wedding. Even if they’re bound by contract, they deserve that much. You’re not seriously expecting them to walk down the aisle without even knowing each other’s faces, are you?”

Peppy's silence spoke louder than words.

John scoffed. “I can't believe this, Peppy Beaumont! You’ve got to be kidding me! Do you know anything about romance?”

Peppy rolled his eyes. “As if you’re the expert on love, John Dory.”

John narrowed his eyes, folding his arms. “Maybe not, but one thing I do know—my little Bluebell deserves the best. And that includes a damn love story.”

The office was silent for a few moments as Peppy drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the desk.

“John, this isn’t about romance. It’s about what’s best for our families. This union has been planned for years.”

John Dory let out a frustrated sigh. “But Branch and Poppy aren't just part of a plan, Peppy. They’re people. They deserve more than a contract—they deserve a love story before they get married.”

Peppy regarded him with a skeptical look. “I’m listening. What do you propose?”

John leaned forward slightly, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “That they go on dates. As soon as your son gets back from his trip, he should meet my Bluebell. And, besides, Poppy needs to ask for Branch’s hand properly.”

Peppy raised an eyebrow. “You want my son to ask your permission to marry your sister, even though you gave your consent when we signed the marriage contract?”

John rolled his eyes. “No, Peppy. I don’t need Poppy to ask my permission—though, honestly, I'd appreciate the gesture. Branch is my baby girl, after all. But no, what I’m asking is for Poppy to make it special. Plan something meaningful—something that means something to both of them.”

Peppy snorted, leaning back in his chair. “And you expect me to give him a ring too?”

“Obviously!” John exclaimed. “Poppy should give Branch a ring. It's a promise—a symbol of what this marriage really means.”

Peppy stared at him for a long moment, contemplating his words. Finally, he sighed. “I don’t see the need. The marriage is already agreed upon.”

“That doesn’t mean it has to be cold and mechanical,” John replied firmly. “What harm would it do for our kids to enjoy the process? For Poppy to put in the effort to win Branch over?”

Peppy folded his arms, exhaling slowly. “Fine. Poppy will ask for Branch’s hand.”

John smiled, satisfied, and stood up. “And he’ll make sure to do it right.”

“We’ll see,” Peppy said, narrowing his eyes with an air of defiance.

John smirked as he headed for the door. “We’ll see.”

Just as John Dory reached the door, Peppy spoke again. “I won’t have Viva stop the wedding preparations.”

John turned back, a confident smile playing on his lips. “I know. And you don’t have to. Once Branch and Poppy spend time together, you’ll see why this is the right thing to do.”

Without another word, John left. Peppy remained in his chair, staring at the closed door, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t entirely convinced, but if John wanted to test his son… he wouldn’t be the one to stand in the way.

*************************

The sun was at its peak when Poppy arrived at the meeting point, where Branch was already waiting.

She looked stunning in a summer ensemble that radiated both sophistication and confidence—a delicately cut bikini top paired with a long, flowing gown that brushed against her thighs with every step, giving her an effortless, ethereal grace. Her wavy hair cascaded over one shoulder, framing her face, while a wide-brimmed hat cast just enough shade to add a touch of mystery.

For a moment, Poppy simply watched her, committing every detail to memory.

“You're early,” Branch remarked with a light laugh.

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting,” he replied, though the truth was, he had been restless since he woke up.

Branch tilted her head slightly, studying him. “Are you all right? You look nervous.”

Poppy pursed his lips. This was it.

“Brandy, before we start our date, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Branch’s expression shifted ever so slightly, though her smile didn’t fade. “I’m listening.”

Poppy swallowed hard. “I...” He ran a hand through his hair, searching for the right words. “This thing between us... whatever it is...”

Branch blinked but remained patient, her gaze steady. “Just say it, Poppy.”

He exhaled a shaky breath. “I can’t promise you anything beyond this festival.”

Branch was quiet for a moment. Then, with a small, knowing smile, she nodded. “I know.”

Poppy frowned slightly. “You know?”

Branch let out a soft laugh, as if the idea that he would think otherwise was amusing. “I’m not naive, Poppy. I know you have a life outside of here. I have one too. And when this is over, we’ll both have to go back to it.” She laced her fingers with his, her touch gentle but sure. “So let’s not worry about the end, okay? We still have time—why not enjoy it and see where it takes us?”

Poppy studied her for a moment, letting her words settle. Then, slowly, a smile crept onto his face. “You’re right.”

Branch gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I always am.”

With that, she tugged him forward, leading him into the day ahead—leaving behind, at least for now, the inevitable goodbye waiting in the distance.

They strolled along the water’s edge, letting the waves kiss their feet. The sea breeze toyed with Branch’s hair, making her look carefree and untamed. Poppy couldn’t help but smile—there was something magical about seeing her like this, lost in the moment, with no worries weighing her down.

A sudden gust of wind snatched Branch’s hat, sending it tumbling down the shore. Poppy reacted quickly, catching it just before it could escape.

“You look good in it,” he teased, tilting his head as he handed it back.

Branch smirked, adjusting the hat back into place. “You mean my hat?”

“I mean everything,” he murmured, his gaze flickering away as a faint blush crept up his neck.

Branch paused for a beat, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. Then, her expression softened. “Thank you, Poppy.”

The warmth of the sun was nothing compared to the warmth blooming in Poppy's chest.

Later, they came across a small stall selling fresh fruit and drinks. In an effort to impress her, Poppy confidently ordered a coconut, determined to open it himself.

“Are you sure you know what you're doing?” Branch asked, watching in amusement as he struggled against the stubborn shell.

“Of course! This is a piece of cake,” he declared—right before the coconut slipped from his hands and landed in the sand with a dull thud.

Branch burst into laughter. Poppy, despite his best efforts to maintain his dignity, couldn’t help but join in.

“Okay, maybe coconuts aren’t my thing,” he admitted with a sheepish grin.

“That’s fine,” Branch said, offering him her already-opened one. “We can share.”

Poppy hesitated for a moment before taking it, bringing the straw to his lips right after she had. It was such a simple gesture, yet it sent his heart racing.

As they continued walking, the rhythm of the waves and the whisper of the breeze wrapped around them like a song. Branch kicked off her sandals, letting the warm sand slip between her toes. Without thinking, Poppy laced his fingers with hers, holding her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Do you always wake up this early?” Poppy asked, eyeing her curiously.

Branch let out a small laugh. “When something excites me, yes.”

“So this excites you?” he teased, flashing a playful grin.

Branch glanced sideways at him, pretending to consider her answer. “I guess... a little.”

Poppy shook his head with a chuckle. “You're terrible.”

“And you're too easy to tease,” she shot back with a wink.

The crystal-clear water lapped at their ankles as they strolled along the shore, leaving fleeting footprints in the wet sand. The rhythmic crash of the waves and the distant call of seagulls wrapped them in a peaceful lull, perfect for getting lost in the moment.

“It's beautiful here,” Poppy murmured, letting the sea breeze ruffle his hair.

“It is,” Branch agreed, then suddenly tilted her head, her sapphire eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Hey, what's that?”

Poppy followed her gaze to a secluded inlet where the sand curved around a cluster of palm trees. A few scattered rocks cast dappled shadows, and the water there was calmer, reflecting the sky like a perfect glass.

“Looks like a good place to rest,” he suggested with a smile.

Branch nodded, and they made their way over, feeling the sand grow softer and warmer beneath their feet. Poppy plopped down with a contented sigh, resting his elbows on the sand as he gazed out at the horizon.

“We could spend hours here.”

Instead of sitting immediately, Branch removed her hat, shaking it lightly before setting it aside. Then, without warning, she crouched down and began tracing something in the sand.

Poppy propped himself up on one elbow, watching her with amusement. “What are you doing?”

“Drawing,” she replied with a mischievous grin.

Curious, he leaned closer to see her creation. In the sand, she had drawn two figures—one tall and lanky, the other with wavy hair and an exaggeratedly large hat.

“Is that me?” Poppy asked, pointing at the taller figure.

Branch hummed noncommittally, pretending to focus on the details. “Mmm... could be.”

“And you're the one next to me?”

“Maybe.”

Poppy chuckled and grabbed a small stick, quickly sketching little hearts floating around the figures.

“Hey!” Branch protested, feigning outrage. “You didn't ask my permission for that!”

“I know,” Poppy said with a cheeky grin, twirling the stick between his fingers. “But it looks better this way.”

Branch studied him for a moment, saying nothing. Then, with a sly smile, she suddenly scooped up a handful of sand and flung it at Poppy.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, shaking the grains from his hair. “So that's how you play, Brandy?”

Branch folded her arms, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “Yeah. What are you gonna do about it?”

Poppy narrowed his eyes in amusement. Before she could react, he leaned in and blew gently against her face, sending the tiny grains of sand on her nose and cheeks fluttering away.

Branch blinked in surprise, warmth creeping into her cheeks. “That’s not fair,” she mumbled.

“You started it,” Poppy said with a smirk, still close.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The breeze played with Branch’s loose strands of hair, and Poppy felt an unexpected urge to brush them away.

“I like being with you,” she admitted suddenly, her voice softer now, more vulnerable.

Poppy met her gaze, caught off guard by the sincerity in her eyes. “Me too,” he murmured.

Branch looked down briefly, as if absorbing the weight of her own words. Then, without hesitation, she reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his against the warm sand.

“Then let’s keep enjoying today,” she said, resting her head lightly against his shoulder.

Poppy smiled, closing his eyes for a moment, letting the sun’s warmth and the sapphire-eyed girl's closeness speak for the rest.

Chapter Text

Time seemed to slow as they stood together, the waves gently breaking a few feet away. The sea breeze carried the salt-kissed air, threading through their hair like a soft whisper, while the rhythmic hush of the water filled the spaces between their words—comfortable, effortless, just like this moment.

Branch, her head resting lightly against Poppy's shoulder, let out a quiet sigh, almost as if she were releasing a thought she hadn't realized she'd been holding. “You know,” she murmured, “I never imagined my first date would be like this.”

Poppy tilted his head slightly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Like this? As in, at the beach?”

“Not exactly.” Branch lifted her head just enough to meet his gaze. “I mean... how easy it feels. How natural. I always thought that if I ever went on a date, I'd be nervous, second-guessing everything I said, trying too hard to make it perfect. But here we are, and I don’t feel like I have to try at all. I'm just... me. And that’s enough.”

Poppy studied her for a beat, his expression softening before he smiled. “Maybe that's because you're with the right person.”

Branch bit her lip, her gaze dipping away for a moment. “That sounds... romantic.”

“And what's wrong with that?” Poppy teased, tilting his head playfully.

Branch let out a small, breathy laugh. “I don’t know. I guess I never saw myself as the romantic type.”

Poppy gasped dramatically. “You? The same girl who just traced a heart in the sand around us and admitted she likes being with me?”

Branch's cheeks warmed as she nudged him lightly. “The hearts were your fault.”

“Uh-huh. And what about your little confession?” Poppy grinned, his laughter light and warm.

Branch rolled her eyes but couldn't fight the smile pulling at her lips. “Okay, fine. Maybe I can be a little romantic sometimes.”

Poppy reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear before his fingers lingered just a moment longer. “I love that side of you,” he murmured, his voice carrying the tenderness of the waves lapping at the shore.

A flicker of warmth spread across Branch’s face. Not wanting Poppy to notice, she quickly sprang to her feet.

“Let’s get in the water!”

Poppy blinked at the sudden shift but then chuckled and pushed himself up. “What if it’s cold?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Branch shot him a teasing look. “Are you scared?”

“Not at all,” he replied with a confident grin.

Before he could say another word, Branch grabbed his wrist and dashed toward the shore, dragging him along. The moment their feet hit the water, cool waves splashed around them, and Poppy let out a startled yelp.

“It’s freezing!” he gasped.

Branch burst into laughter, but before she could enjoy her victory for long, Poppy leaned forward and sent a playful splash her way.

“Hey!” she sputtered, blinking through the water.

Poppy grinned, arms crossed. “Now we’re even.”

Branch tapped her chin, pretending to consider his words. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she smirked. “You know what? I don’t think so.”

Before Poppy could react, she sent another splash straight at him, soaking his hair.

“Brandy!” he yelped, hands flying to his head.

Branch cackled and darted away through the waves. “If you can catch me, I’ll let you have your revenge!”

Poppy’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Oh, you’re in trouble now!”

With a burst of determination, Poppy lunged after her, laughter and the sound of splashing water filling the air. He reached for her again and again, but Branch was quick, slipping just out of reach each time, turning at the last second with playful ease.

Then, in an instant of miscalculation, Poppy’s fingers closed around her wrist. With one smooth motion, he pulled her toward him. The sudden closeness caught them both off guard. Branch’s hands landed against his chest, her fingers pressing lightly into the damp fabric of his shirt, while Poppy’s arms instinctively steadied her—not too tightly, just enough to keep her there. For a moment, neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

The water lapped gently at their knees, cool droplets gliding down their skin. Their breaths mixed with the salty breeze, the air between them charged with something unspoken. Branch lifted her gaze, meeting Poppy’s magenta eyes, now shimmering with something different—something softer.

“I got you,” he whispered.

She swallowed, her pulse pounding. “Yeah... you did.”

Poppy raised a hand, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face, his fingers barely grazing her cheek. “Brandy...”

Branch didn’t reply, but her gaze flickered downward, settling on his lips for the briefest moment. Poppy noticed—and felt a knot tighten in his stomach.

It was the kind of moment that only seemed to exist in stories, where the rest of the world faded, leaving just the two of them in the quiet, suspended between what was and what could be. But instead of rushing, instead of shattering the magic with a hasty move, Poppy simply smiled—a warm, knowing smile—and let his thumb glide gently over her cheek.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s go back to the sand. The water’s cold.”

Branch exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and nodded. Slowly, Poppy released her wrist, his touch lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

Side by side, they waded back to shore, hearts beating a little faster than before. As they settled onto the damp sand, where the waves barely reached to kiss their feet, the sun embraced them in its warmth, drying the lingering droplets on their skin. And yet, neither of them could tell if the warmth on their faces was from the sun—or something else entirely.

Branch hugged her legs, resting her chin on her knees as her gaze drifted toward the horizon. The waves shimmered under the fading sunlight, their steady rhythm matching the quiet comfort between them.

Beside her, Poppy glanced sideways and smiled. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, his voice soft.

Branch hesitated for a moment, as if sifting through her thoughts, then turned to face him. "How good this feels," she admitted. "Not just being here... but being here with you."

A warmth spread through Poppy’s chest, unexpected yet welcome. “I'm glad you think so.”

Branch narrowed her eyes playfully. “You feel it too?”

Poppy let out a quiet chuckle before nodding. “Yeah... I like being with you, Brandy.”

Branch turned away briefly, pressing her chin against her knees as her cheeks warmed. “Wow... you're not even trying to hide it.”

Poppy tilted his head. “Why would I? You're funny, smart... and, as much as you like to pretend you're not, you're sweet, too.”

Branch scoffed, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “I’m not pretending.”

Poppy raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“No.”

“Then tell me you didn't try to hide your blush when I complimented you earlier.”

Branch parted her lips to protest—but no words came out.

Poppy’s grin widened. “I knew it.”

Branch huffed, crossing her arms. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, it definitely does. It means I'm right and you're trying to pretend you're not sweet.”

“It doesn’t!”

“Yes, it does.”

Silence stretched between them for a beat—until they both burst into laughter.

Branch scooped up a handful of sand, letting the fine grains slip through her fingers. “You can be really annoying when you want to be.”

Poppy grinned, completely unfazed. “It’s a hidden talent.”

Branch shook her head, but when her eyes met his again, her expression softened. The steady rhythm of the waves, the breeze brushing against her skin, the warmth of the sun—it all felt perfect. And in the middle of it all, there they were, slowly discovering what it meant to be together.

Without hesitation, Branch reached for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. Her voice was quiet, but certain. “Just in case,” she murmured. “So you don’t think I’m faking everything.”

Poppy blinked, momentarily surprised. But then, a gentle smile spread across his face, warm and sincere. He didn’t say anything—he just gave her hand a light squeeze, letting the moment speak for itself.

Time seemed to stretch, the world around them fading as they sat there, hands clasped. Eventually, Branch was the first to move. She slowly let go, sinking back onto the sand with her arms tucked behind her head. Her sapphire eyes sparkled under the sunlight, a contented smile resting on her lips.

“I’ve never spent this much time at the beach before,” she admitted. “It feels... nice.”

Poppy lay down beside her, propping himself up on one elbow as he watched her. “Never? Really?”

Branch shook her head. “Not like this. I’ve always been busy—work, music... I guess as you get older, you forget that you should let yourself slow down and enjoy things sometimes.”

Poppy studied her quietly. There was something in the way she absently traced patterns in the sand, in the way her voice carried a quiet honesty, that made him realize just how much she meant those words.

“Well,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips, “I guess now you have a reason for the beach to become one of your favorite places.”

Branch turned her head toward him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what’s that reason?”

Poppy’s smile widened. “Me.”

Branch let out a short laugh, but she didn’t look away. “So now you’re my reason?”

“Why not?” He shrugged lightly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She sighed dramatically before reaching out and giving him a playful shove on the shoulder. “You’re unbearable, Poppy.”

He caught her wrist easily before she could pull away, his grip gentle but firm. And for an instant, their laughter faded, their gazes locking. The air between them shifted, thick with something neither of them dared to name yet.

Poppy brushed his thumb over the inside of Branch’s wrist, just as he had done on her cheek earlier. The touch was light, almost hesitant.

“Brandy...”

Branch didn’t pull away. She barely even breathed. “Yes?”

Poppy parted his lips as if to speak, but then hesitated. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. Maybe he didn’t need to say anything at all.

“Nothing,” he whispered at last, releasing her gently.

Branch held his gaze for a moment longer before a small smile curved her lips. “Come on,” she said softly. “There’s still a lot to see.”

Poppy nodded, standing first and offering his hand. Without hesitation, Branch took it. And together, they wandered along the shoreline, letting the waves kiss their feet, letting the moments stretch without rush or expectation. Just them, walking side by side, feeling everything.

***

The sun had drifted a little further across the sky, and the sea breeze carried the crisp scent of salt and water. Branch closed her eyes briefly, letting the wind brush against her face, breathing in the quiet peace of it all.

“This has been... nice,” she admitted, turning her head toward him.

Poppy glanced at her, his smile soft. “Just nice?”

Branch rolled her eyes, though her expression betrayed her amusement. “Okay, maybe... better than just nice.”

“I knew it,” Poppy teased, giving her hand a playful squeeze before finally letting go.

Branch let out a small laugh and bent down, picking up a smooth seashell. She turned it between her fingers, studying the delicate ridges, before extending it toward him.

“Here. A souvenir from this date.”

Poppy took it with exaggerated reverence, holding it carefully in both hands as if it were the most precious treasure in the world.

“This shell shall be my most prized possession.”

Branch let out an amused scoff. “I highly doubt that.”

Poppy tilted his head, glancing at her with a sly grin. “Well… maybe my second most precious.”

The words caught Branch off guard. A warmth spread across her cheeks, and for a second, she felt her heart stumble over itself. She turned toward the waves, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way her fingers lightly curled, as if trying to hold onto something invisible, something unfamiliar yet undeniably real.

“Poppy.”

“Yes?

Branch took a steady breath, keeping her gaze on the horizon. Her voice was casual, almost indifferent—except for the slight tension in her fingers as they toyed with a stray thread on her sleeve.

“Tomorrow, I'm taking the day off to explore the city. Would you like to join me?”

Poppy answered almost instantly, as if he'd been waiting for exactly this moment. “I'd love to.”

A small smile played on his lips as he reached for her hand, his touch gentle. Before letting go, he lifted Branch's knuckles to his lips, pressing the lightest kiss against her skin. A shiver ran up Branch’s arm, and the warmth in her cheeks deepened.

She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. “So… do you think we should meet at the coffee shop we went to with Smidge last time? We can decide where to start from there.”

Poppy caught the blush dusting her face and grinned.

“It's a date, then.” His voice was playful, but there was something softer beneath it.

Branch scoffed, folding her arms, though the small smile remained. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. We haven’t gone on that date yet.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m excited in just the right measure.”

She shook her head, laughing under her breath. The sound of the waves filled the space between them, a comfortable rhythm against their footsteps as they walked back. When they reached the point where their paths diverged, Branch slowed to a stop, turning to face him.

“See you tomorrow, then.”

Poppy hesitated for just a second—like he was weighing whether to say or do something more—but in the end, he simply smiled, warm and sincere.

“See you tomorrow, Brandy.”

Branch gave a small nod before turning to leave. Poppy stood there for a moment, watching her go, the little seashell still resting in his palm. A soft exhale left his lips, the warmth in his chest spreading. Maybe exploring new emotions alongside Brandy wasn’t as daunting as he’d thought.

Chapter Text

The next day, John and Bruce watched intently as the girls remained hard at work planning the wedding. This time, the boys decided to be more than spectators, chiming in with suggestions and ideas. Bruce even proposed that LaBreezey toss the flowers and that Bruce Jr. and Rainy hold the train of the dress—ideas that sparked smiles all around as everyone pictured the adorable scene.

At that moment, they were deep into the topic of the guest list.

“...and we should definitely invite Delta Dawn,” Viva said. “She's the mayor of the neighboring town and, from what I hear, also a business investor in the company.”

John Dory visibly grimaced at the mention of the name. Bruce and Brandy exchanged amused chuckles.

“You're right, though,” Bruce said, “but you should take Delta off the list.”

“Why?” Viva asked, frowning in confusion.

“For the same reason John Dory's never around when we talk to her about business,” Bruce replied, a grin tugging at his lips. “Delta is his ex.”

John sighed. “Let’s just say we didn’t part on the best of terms.”

“To avoid any drama at the wedding, I’d suggest you listen to the boys,” Brandy added with a knowing look.

Viva blinked, then burst out laughing. “Wow. But if Delta finds out there’s a wedding and she’s not invited, won’t she be offended?”

“Oh, she’ll definitely be offended,” Bruce said with a shrug. “But trust me—it’s better she’s mad at being left out than having her and John Dory get into a scene in the middle of the ceremony.”

“The last time they were in the same room, they argued for hours. Bruce and Floyd had to step in,” Brandy said.

“It wasn’t that bad,” John protested.

“No? Because if I remember correctly, Bruce nearly had to carry you out after Delta threw a vase at you.”

“It was a small vase,” John muttered, crossing his arms.

“That doesn’t make it any less worrisome!” Brandy shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Viva let out a low whistle. “Well then, I guess Delta’s officially off the guest list.”

“Good call,” Bruce said, nodding in approval.

“Changing the subject…” John Dory said, shifting uncomfortably, “Does Poppy know you’re planning all this for his wedding?”

Viva paused, lifting her gaze from her notebook with a raised eyebrow. “Does Branch know?”

John looked down and scratched the back of his neck. “No…”

“There’s your answer.”

“But we’re just talking about the new arrangements, right?” Brandy chimed in, looking a bit alarmed. “Branchie does know she’s getting married soon… doesn’t she?”

John avoided eye contact and gave a helpless shrug. “I didn’t want to… interrupt her trip.”

He bit his tongue before saying ruin—aware that Viva might not take that well.

Bruce stared at him, baffled. “Wait, John, I thought you’d already told her something.”

“No... The last time we talked wedding stuff with our younger siblings was during that video call. Branch wasn’t even there.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Viva said with a shrug, “Poppy doesn’t know anything either. My dad wants to surprise him with the news when he gets back.”

Brandy let out a sigh and crossed her arms. “I’m sure Poppy will love the idea. But Branchie’s different. She likes to plan things out, be ready. JD, you should talk to her—soon.”

She smiled sweetly at her brother-in-law, but her sharp gaze made John’s legs go weak.

“Y-you-you’re right, Brandy!” John stammered. “I’ll fix it right now. Don’t worry!”

With a nervous chuckle and a forced smile, he turned on his heel and rushed out of the small office. John Dory hurried out of the store, scanning for a quieter street where he could make the call in peace. Once he found a secluded spot, he tapped the screen and waited for his siblings to answer.

Finally, Clay and Floyd appeared on the video call.

“Hey, JD,” Clay greeted.

“Everything okay, John Dory? You look... tense,” Floyd said, tilting his head with curiosity.

John Dory ignored their concern and glanced around before flashing a charming smile. “And where’s my beautiful Bluebell?”

“We gave her the day off to explore the city,” Floyd replied with a shrug.

“Good call! I’m sure she’d love to get lost in the sights.” JD grinned, but a flicker of mischief lit up his eyes. His gaze shifted from one brother to the other as he let out an exaggerated sigh. “Although, it’s a shame she’s not here to take this call.”

Floyd and Clay exchanged wary glances, their smiles fading.

“A shame?” Clay narrowed his eyes. “You look way too happy about that.”

JD laughed nervously and shrugged. “Well... I was going to tell Branch that her wedding’s already being arranged so she can tie the knot the second she gets back. But, since she’s not with you right now, that little honor falls to you two.”

Silence.

The kind of heavy silence you could feel through the screen.

Floyd blinked slowly. Clay crossed his arms.

“I see what you’re doing,” Clay said flatly. “No, John. You call her yourself.”

“I’m going to be very busy,” JD said, lifting a finger for emphasis, “with investors, suppliers, business partners… And Brandy and Poppy’s sister need my constant input. It was now or never. So... tag, you're it.”

“John Dory,” Floyd groaned, “that’s a father-daughter conversation. You need to talk to Branch!”

“Yeah, well, I’m out of time. And someone’s gotta warn her before she comes back and burns the place down, so… it’s your turn! Love you both—bye!”

Before they could react, the screen went black. Floyd and Clay stood in stunned silence, staring at their own dumbfounded reflections.

Clay was the first to speak, snorting. “Did he just...?”

“Yup,” Floyd said, still staring. “He just dropped the most complicated task of the year on us… and bailed.”

They sat in stunned silence for a solid ten seconds. Then Clay dragged a hand down his face like a man mourning his own future. “Well, well... this is going to be a disaster.”

“Don’t even say it,” Floyd muttered.

“How are we supposed to tell Branch without getting something thrown at our heads?”

Floyd exhaled like he aged five years in one breath. “I vote you do it.”

“What?! No! You’re her favorite brother!”

“Ohhh, now you acknowledge that?” Floyd raised an eyebrow.

“Now it’s convenient for me.”

Floyd snorted and collapsed into the nearest chair. “We’re so dead.”

Clay nodded solemnly. “Dead and buried.”

They both stared into the void, hoping a magical solution would pop into existence and save their lives. Nothing came—just the cold embrace of dread.

“Okay,” Clay said slowly, “we tell her on the drive home.”

Floyd stared. “In the car?”

“Exactly. Child safety locks. She can’t jump out or lunge at us. And Branch respects road laws—she wouldn’t commit homicide while the vehicle is moving.”

Floyd clicked his tongue. “Correction: she won’t attack the driver. The passenger seat? Fair game.”

Clay grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, you’re riding shotgun.”

Floyd blinked. “Clay!”

“What? It makes perfect sense. I’m more likely to die, you’re more likely to get off with just a death glare. You’re her favorite, remember?”

Floyd groaned. “So what, you’re officially giving up on being her favorite?”

Clay held up his hands like he was surrendering to the cops. “If it means surviving the wrath of Branch, then yes. Let Floyd win. Long may he reign.”

Floyd squinted. “How do I know you won’t sneak back into the competition once she calms down?”

Clay grinned. “You’ll just have to trust me, little brother.”

“I hate you,” Floyd said with a snort. “But fine. I offer myself as tribute.”

Clay gave him a proud pat on the back. “You’re a real hero, Flo Flo.”

Floyd froze. “Don’t. Call me. Flo Flo. That nickname is sacred. Reserved for my sapphire only.”

Clay shrugged. “Fair enough. If you don’t survive this, I’ll tell your sapphire you loved her.”

Floyd jabbed a finger at his chest. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy, coward.”

Clay laughed as Floyd crossed his arms and muttered about how he needed new brothers. But both of them knew the truth: no plan would ever make this easy. And they were so not ready for Hurricane Branch.

*************************

Branch was nestled inside the cozy coffee shop, sipping her coffee and enjoying the morning hum when Poppy walked in. He slid into the seat next to her and greeted her with a soft kiss on the cheek.

Branch flushed slightly, glancing up at him with a small, involuntary smile.

“Have you ordered breakfast already?” he asked.

“Nope. Just the coffee,” Branch replied, flagging down the waiter. “Any earlier and I wouldn’t have the patience to deal with a walking ball of sunshine like you.”

Poppy raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Wow. So much love in the air this morning.”

Branch shrugged, already eyeing the menu the waiter placed in front of them. They gave their orders, and once the waiter left, Poppy leaned in a bit.

“So, what’s the plan for today? You got something special up your sleeve?”

“Nope,” Branch said, eyes sparkling. “I don’t know the city. And from what I hear, neither do you. So I say we get lost in it. Let fate be our tour guide.”

Poppy tilted his head. “Really? Miss ‘color-coded-calendar’ is surrendering to spontaneity?”

Branch smirked. “I make exceptions. Blame my dad. He taught me that sometimes, the best memories come from getting lost.”

“He sounds like a cool guy. You should talk about him more.”

Branch’s smile faded, just a little. “No, Poppy. Just like you don’t talk to me about your family either.”

Poppy blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone.

Branch stirred her coffee, her voice quieter. “There’s no point in digging too deep when, in a few days, we’ll just be memories to each other. Let's not complicate it.”

A pause. Poppy studied her, as if searching for something in her expression. Then, as if a switch flipped, Branch’s smile returned.

“So,” she said lightly, “city adventure?”

Poppy exhaled and nodded with a playful smirk. “Alright, but let’s spice it up. We each point to a random spot on the map, and go there—no GPS allowed.”

Branch raised a brow. “So, trust our sense of direction?”

“Exactly.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “This is going to end badly.”

“Oh, 100%,” Poppy agreed. “But it’s gonna be one hell of a day.”

They were still laughing when the waiter returned with their food. As they began eating, Poppy pulled out a paper map—clearly ripped from a tourist brochure—and spread it across the table with a mischievous grin.

“Alright,” he said, handing her a pen, “you go first.”

Branch raised an eyebrow but took the pen, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “I can’t believe we’re really doing this.”

“Hey, this is fate,” Poppy said with mock seriousness. “Let destiny lead us.”

With a quiet laugh, Branch closed her eyes and pressed the pen down somewhere on the map. When she opened them again, Poppy leaned in to see.

“A park by the river,” he read. “That sounds... perfect.”

Branch smirked. “Not bad for randomly poking at paper.”

“My turn.”

He repeated the process, tapping the pen down with exaggerated flair. It landed on a small coffee shop in an older district.

Branch raised a brow. “A park and a coffee shop. You’re setting us up for a rom-com montage.”

Poppy winked. “Exactly. Let’s make this an adventure worth remembering.”

Once they finished breakfast, they paid the bill and stepped outside. The morning air was crisp and gentle, carrying the scent of freshly baked bread and flowers from a nearby stall. Without a word, Poppy reached out and naturally looped his arm through hers.

“Ready?” he asked, softly.

Branch glanced down at their arms, then at him. The way he smiled—like she was the only person in the world—made her chest flutter. She didn’t say anything. She just nodded and began walking with him.

They wandered down colorful alleys painted with street art, passed markets humming with life, and paused to admire quirky shop windows. Poppy tugged her to a small booth selling handmade jewelry and insisted on buying two thread bracelets. Before she could roll her eyes or protest, he slipped one onto her wrist.

“There,” he said gently, “now, if you ever miss me, you can look at this and remember how annoyingly charming I am.”

Branch glanced down at the bracelet, trying to mask the smile playing at her lips. “You realize that sounds like the exact line a cheesy romantic hero would use?”

Poppy grinned. “Guilty. But sometimes life needs a little cheese.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t take the bracelet off.

Eventually, they reached the park. The air was fresh and smelled faintly of river water and blooming jasmine. Trees arched overhead, forming leafy tunnels, and a narrow path wound alongside the water. A stone bridge covered in ivy stood ahead, as if pulled straight from a fairytale.

Branch slowed down, her eyes wide. “This place is beautiful.”

Poppy’s voice softened. “So are you.”

She looked at him, surprised, but he wasn’t teasing. He meant it.

“Do you want to sit for a while?” Poppy asked, pointing to a bench nestled under a willow tree near the riverbank.

Branch nodded. They sat in quiet contentment, watching the sunlight shimmer across the water. And for the first time in a long time, Branch felt like she didn’t need a plan. Not when Poppy’s hand was brushing hers.

“Close your eyes,” Poppy said suddenly.

Branch frowned. “What? Why?”

“Just trust me.”

She sighed but did as told, letting her lashes fall. A soft breeze played with her hair—then Branch felt Poppy's fingers brushing gently across her cheek, tucking a windblown strand behind her ear. His touch was featherlight, but it sent a quiet shiver down her spine.

Then something nestled near her temple.

A flower.

“A pink one,” Poppy whispered, his voice warm. “I knew it would suit you.”

Branch opened her eyes halfway, just enough to meet his. His gaze was steady and soft, lit with something unspoken. For a heartbeat, they just looked at each other—no words, no teasing, only a fragile closeness that hung in the air like a held breath.

Poppy’s hand slid down, seeking hers, and their fingers laced together naturally, as if they always had.

“I like this,” he said quietly.

“This?” Branch asked, her voice equally soft.

“Wandering through an unfamiliar city with you. You grumbling, me ignoring it, and somehow… both of us having a great time.”

Branch chuckled and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Don’t get used to it.” But her tone betrayed her: light, content, already fond.

Poppy kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering a second longer than necessary.

“Too late.”

They sat like that for a while, wrapped in the hush of the riverside and the warmth of each other, the city moving quietly around them. No more words were needed. Because sometimes, the best kind of adventure… is simply getting lost—with the right person.

Chapter Text

After a while in the park, with Branch's head still resting on Poppy's shoulder, he sighed contentedly, a smile tugging at his lips. “If we stay here much longer, I’m afraid we’ll never make it to that coffee shop I marked on the map.”

Branch lifted her head slowly, eyes half-lidded with comfort, and looked at Poppy with feigned annoyance. “And what if I decide to stay here all day? Seems like the perfect spot to ignore you.”

Poppy chuckled, his fingers brushing a stray leaf from her hair before trailing down her arm. “You know you couldn’t ignore me even if you tried. You like me too much.”

Branch pursed her lips, pretending to disagree, but the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered.

“Very lucky,” Poppy said softly, his gaze lingering a moment longer.

Branch stood, stretching with a sigh, and he rose with her. Without needing to say it, their hands found each other. Hand in hand, they wandered back toward the city. This time, Poppy veered off the familiar path, tugging her gently toward another trail.

“This doesn’t feel like a shortcut,” Branch observed, eyeing him suspiciously.

“It’s not a shortcut,” Poppy said with a grin. “It’s... a scenic detour.”

“A scenic detour that’s going to get us lost.”

“Exactly. Wasn’t that the plan?” He winked.

Branch shook her head, but the smile on her face betrayed her. “As long as I’m lost with you...”

They strolled along cobblestone streets lined with antique lanterns and balconies overflowing with flowers. Warm light spilled from nearby windows, casting golden reflections on the stone below. Then, without warning, Poppy paused and gently tugged Branch into a narrow passage between two buildings.

“What are you doing?” she asked, intrigued by the sudden detour.

“Look at this,” he whispered.

Poppy pointed to a mural painted on the wall—an enchanting night scene, with golden stars scattered across a deep blue sky, illuminating a couple dancing beneath a glowing moon. The art shimmered with a kind of quiet magic that held them still, breathless in the hush of the alley.

“It’s beautiful,” Branch murmured, her voice softer than the breeze.

Poppy turned to her, his smile tender. “Dance with me.”

Branch blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Come on,” he said playfully, “just say yes.”

“Poppy… we’re literally in an alley.”

“So?” he grinned. “No one’s watching us.”

Before she could protest again, Poppy took her hand—gentle but sure—and stepped into a slow, imaginary rhythm. At first, Branch stiffened, casting a glance toward the street. But then she caught the warmth in Poppy’s eyes, and her shoulders dropped. With a shy smile, she let him twirl her gently beneath the painted stars. Their laughter echoed softly through the alley, mixing with the evening air, until everything else faded away. As Poppy drew her back from a spin, they stopped—only inches apart. The world seemed to slow. Branch could feel his breath, warm and close, and noticed the way Poppy's eyes lingered on her lips.

“You know,” Poppy murmured, voice low and full of meaning, “I think I like getting more and more lost next to you.”

Branch’s heart raced. Poppy’s hand still rested lightly on her waist, their fingers still entwined. For a moment, she thought about leaning in. Her lips parted, her eyes flicked to his—then Branch caught herself, laughing softly and stepping back just enough.

“Don’t get too dreamy, we haven’t even found the coffee shop yet.”

Poppy chuckled, not at all disappointed. “True.”

After their stroll through the alleys and the impromptu dance, Branch and Poppy continued their leisurely walk. The sun had climbed high, casting soft shadows as they passed a grand building with elegant columns and tall windows framed in stone.

“Look, a museum,” Poppy said, pointing at the carved sign by the entrance.

Branch slowed down, reading the plaque beside it. “Looks like it’s part art gallery, part local history. We should check it out.”

Poppy raised a brow. “Why?”

“Because the best adventures always include a touch of culture,” she replied with a smirk. “And after all that walking, it wouldn’t hurt to be indoors for a bit.”

He eyed her skeptically, but when Branch offered him a charming smile, Poppy exhaled in mock defeat. “Fine. But if it’s boring, I get to pick our next stop.”

“Deal.”

Inside, the museum was quiet and cool, filled with softly lit rooms that housed paintings, sculptures, and historical relics. At first, Poppy kept a casual pace, only half-interested. But little by little, something shifted. He lingered longer at each piece, curiosity starting to spark.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, gesturing to a painting of a sun-drenched landscape. “That looks like the view from the park.”

Branch tilted her head, studying the canvas. The colors melted into each other—warm oranges fading into dusky blues. “It’s pretty,” she said. “Realism isn’t really my thing, though.”

Poppy glanced at her, surprised. “No?”

She shrugged lightly. “I prefer something more abstract. I like when a piece lets you decide what it means—when it makes you feel something without spelling it out.”

Poppy looked at her with quiet fascination. “I wouldn’t have guessed. You always seem so grounded.”

Branch gave a small smile. “Maybe I like getting a little lost too... just in a different way.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I think I like whatever stops me in my tracks. Doesn’t matter the style—if it stirs something in me, that’s enough.”

Branch turned to him, her expression softening. “That makes sense.”

They continued strolling through the museum, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors. Each room held a new curiosity—paintings drenched in emotion, sculptures frozen in time. Eventually, Poppy slowed in front of a marble statue of a couple locked in a tender embrace.

“I like this one,” he murmured, letting his fingers gently trace the base of the sculpture. “It’s… intimate.”

Branch stepped beside Poppy, watching his expression shift—softening, almost wistful.

“Do you like it because it reminds you of something?” she asked quietly.

Poppy turned to her, his gaze steady. “Yeah. It reminds me of us.”

The words caught Branch off guard. Her heart stuttered, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. But the surprise gave way to a smile she couldn’t suppress.

“You’re so cheesy,” she teased, though her voice held more affection than mockery.

“And is that such a terrible thing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Branch sighed, amused, but something warm flickered behind her eyes. Without overthinking it, she reached for his hand and held it—just for a moment.

“Not necessarily,” she said softly.

Poppy gave her hand a gentle squeeze, the kind that said more than words could. Then, as naturally as it had happened, Branch let go and continued down the corridor, her fingers brushing his one last time as they parted. But the softness lingered between them.

***

After leaving the museum, Branch’s stomach gave a loud rumble that echoed a little too clearly between them. Her cheeks flushed instantly.

“I think it’s time to eat,” she said quickly, trying to cover her embarrassment.

Poppy burst out laughing. “Perfect timing. According to the map, the coffee shop I chose is just around the corner, and that looks like the ideal spot for a late lunch.”

They followed the quiet street until they reached a quaint little café tucked between ivy-covered walls. The moment they stepped inside, they were greeted by the comforting aroma of fresh coffee, baked bread, and something sweet lingering in the air. Warm lighting bathed the dark wood interior, where shelves overflowed with books, potted plants hung from the ceiling, and soft music played in the background.

They chose a table by a large window, where they could watch the slow rhythm of life passing along the cobblestone street outside. Afternoon sunlight filtered in through the glass, casting golden shapes on the floor.

“Okay, I’ll admit it,” Branch said, running her fingers thoughtfully along the polished wood of the table. “This place is… really nice.”

Poppy gave her a proud grin. “I told you. I’ve got an instinct for hidden gems.”

“Please. You just got lucky.”

He clutched his chest in mock heartbreak. “Ouch. Such cruelty. And after I saved you from starvation.”

Branch rolled her eyes, but the laughter that escaped her lips gave her away.

When their food arrived, both paused for a moment, pleasantly surprised by the care in the presentation. Branch had ordered avocado toast topped with a perfect poached egg and a sprinkle of chili flakes, while Poppy’s sandwich oozed melted cheese and roasted tomatoes between slices of golden bread.

“This looks amazing,” Poppy said, already taking a bite.

Branch followed suit, chewing slowly before nodding in satisfaction. “Okay, I’ll give you this one. It’s good.”

“I’d never take you anywhere disappointing,” Poppy said, his eyes twinkling as he sipped his drink.

Branch smirked over the rim of her cup. “Please, don't get ahead of yourself.”

Conversation flowed easily as they ate, like a continuation of the dance they'd shared earlier. Branch and Poppy talked about the museum, the little details that had caught their attention, and the moments of the day that lingered in their thoughts.

“If you had to pick just one painting to take home, which would it be?” Poppy asked, swirling his frappe with a straw.

Branch leaned back thoughtfully. “Maybe the one of the mist-covered forest. The colors were cold, but calming. It felt like the kind of place you’d go to be alone… but in a peaceful way.”

Poppy smiled. “That checks out.”

Branch narrowed her eyes playfully. “And you?”

“The couple dancing under the moon,” he replied without hesitation. “Even if it wasn’t technically in the museum.”

Branch rolled her eyes with a small smirk. “Of course you’d say that.”

Poppy leaned a little closer across the table, a spark in his eyes. “Why? Do you think of us when you see that kind of art too?”

Heat crept up Branch’s neck, and she quickly brought her drink to her lips to hide her expression.

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Poppy chuckled, resting his chin on his hand. “It’s nice to see you blush.”

Branch clicked her tongue and turned her gaze to the window, but the curve of her smile betrayed her.

After finishing their meal, they left the café and resumed their stroll, now heading toward the viewpoint. The afternoon sun had begun to paint the world in golden hues, stretching their shadows along the cobblestone path. A cool breeze brushed past them, playful and light.

“How much farther?” Branch asked, eyeing the steep incline ahead.

“Not much. You'll see—it’s worth it.”

“Is this payback for dragging you into the museum?”

“Let’s call it balance. You’ll thank me when we get there.”

Branch muttered something under her breath, but didn’t protest further. Poppy, meanwhile, seemed to be savoring every step, pausing now and then to admire carved balconies or to point out wildflowers creeping through cracks in the stone walls. As they reached a quieter stretch of the road, Poppy gently reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers without saying a word.

Branch glanced down but didn’t pull away. “What are you doing?”

“Just making sure you don’t run away before we get there.”

Branch raised an eyebrow, but the corners of her lips twitched with amusement. “If I wanted to run, I would’ve done it hours ago.”

Poppy squeezed her hand, his smile softening. “Then I guess I’m doing something right.”

When they finally reached the top, the view stole their breath away. Below them, the city stretched out in all directions, its lights flickering to life like golden fireflies. In the distance, the sea mirrored the last blush of sunset, while the sky shifted into a tapestry of lavender, peach, and deepening blue—the gentle prelude to night.

Branch stepped up to the railing and exhaled softly. “Wow…”

Poppy watched her, his eyes warm. “I knew you’d like it.”

She leaned on the railing, letting the wind tease strands of her hair. “I’m not going to lie… it’s stunning.”

Poppy joined her, resting his arms beside hers. “It’s even better because you’re here.”

Branch glanced at him from the corner of her eye, lips twitching. “You’re still too cheesy.”

“And you’re still pretending you don’t like it.”

She turned away, but the faint color rising in her cheeks gave her away. “Maybe… just a little.”

Poppy smiled and gently tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “I want you to remember this moment. No matter what comes next.”

A lump rose in Branch’s throat. She knew their time together had a clock ticking quietly behind it—but right now, that didn’t matter.

“I will,” she whispered.

Poppy lifted a hand to her face, his fingers grazing her cheek with such care it made her heart ache. The wind moved softly around them, tugging at his jacket and her hair, but everything else had fallen away.

He didn’t go for her lips. Instead, with slow, deliberate tenderness, Poppy pressed a kiss to her forehead, his hand still cradling her face. Branch’s chest tightened. There was no urgency in it, no spark of passion—yet somehow, it was more intimate than anything else could have been. A kiss full of warmth. Of protection. Of goodbye.

Branch closed her eyes, memorizing the feeling.

When Poppy finally pulled away, he wore a soft smile. But his eyes… they held a glint of sadness, barely hidden beneath the surface.

"You know," Poppy said softly—his usual carefree tone faltering just enough to reveal the crack beneath—"there's a beach party tomorrow. I think it’ll be a good way to end our adventure."

Branch turned to him, blinking slowly. “A party?”

“Yeah. Music, bonfires, food... sounds good, right?”

Branch studied him. Poppy was smiling, but his eyes—those warm, familiar magenta eyes—held something else. Something she recognized instantly. This wasn’t just another date. It would be the date. Their last. One final night before their paths split for good and the memories began.

A lump rose in her throat, but Branch forced a smile. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

Poppy’s shoulders relaxed, just a little, as if he hadn’t been sure she’d say yes.

“Then it’s settled. Tomorrow night. On the beach.”

They stood in silence for a moment longer, the night breeze brushing past them, carrying the distant hum of the city. Branch wanted to say something—wanted to ask him if he felt it too, that quiet ache building in her chest. The weight of borrowed time.

But she didn’t.

Because if they spoke it out loud, the illusion would shatter. And right now, Branch wasn’t ready to let it go.

Poppy extended a hand. “Come on. Time to head back.”

Branch looked at his hand, then slipped hers into it without a word. They walked slowly, fingers intertwined, holding onto that shared warmth like it could delay the inevitable.

The return walk was quieter, almost reverent. Their joined hands said more than words could. The sound of their footsteps echoed off the stone, and the world around them kept turning, unaware that something precious was nearing its end.

Every now and then, Branch stole glances at him. Poppy kept his eyes ahead, but his fingers gave hers soft, rhythmic squeezes, as if to make sure Branch was still there.

He didn’t want to let go.

Neither did she.

Eventually, they reached the place where the road split—two streets, two destinations. One led to her hotel, the other to his. A simple crossroads, yet it felt like something far heavier.

They both stopped.

Poppy was the first to exhale, casting a glance down his path. “Well... I guess this is it. For now.”

Branch nodded, but stayed still. “Yeah.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—just dense with things unsaid.

Poppy’s thumb brushed across the back of her hand one last time before he let go. Gently. Like it hurt. “See you tomorrow,” he said, trying for lightness, but his eyes couldn’t lie.

Branch took a breath. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

Poppy lingered for half a second, like he might say something more—but then he just nodded and stepped back.

“Sleep well, Brandy.”

She looked down, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You too, Poppy.”

He turned and began walking down his street, his steps unhurried, each one carrying him farther away. Branch stood there, watching until Poppy’s figure disappeared into the distance. Only when she was sure Poppy could no longer see her did Branch release the breath she hadn’t realized she'd been holding. Her hand felt strangely empty, as if the absence of his fingers had left behind something more than just space—it left ache.

But there was no point in dwelling on it. Tomorrow would be their last night together.

And after that—

Nothing.

Without another thought, Branch turned on her heel and headed toward her hotel. With every step, she tried to ignore the weight pressing against her chest.

But it was useless.

Because that weight had a name.

And that name was Poppy.

Chapter Text

Branch was attending some customers when a pair of voices, one smooth and the other absurdly loud, caught her attention. She glanced out of the corner of her eye and immediately recognized a mop of red hair… accompanied by a bluish mane that was definitely unfamiliar. The sight made her lips twitch into a smile, but she kept her focus until the sale was wrapped up. Once the customers left, she glanced down at the sales notebook she and her brothers were using to track the day’s progress.

Just as she picked up her pen, an overly enthusiastic voice rang out right next to her.

“She must be the famous sapphire!”

Branch blinked, looked up, and found herself staring at a grinning blue-haired boy who was practically vibrating with excitement. Standing next to him was the redhead—clearly less amused.

“Hype, seriously—shut up! You’re embarrassing me!” Ablaze hissed, elbowing him.

Branch crossed her arms, eyeing them with an arched brow. “Can I help you two with something?”

Ablaze sighed like a man who’d made several bad decisions in the last sixty seconds. “Excuse my friend. I'm Ablaze and—”

“And I’m Hype!” the other cut in, throwing a peace sign like a kid meeting his idol. “You’re Floyd’s little sister, right? Man, this is wild. I’ve heard so much about you, I halfway expected you to descend from the ceiling with sparkles and theme music.”

Branch raised an eyebrow. “Right. So... the whole ‘sapphire’ thing?”

“Oh, yeah!” Hype said, eyes lighting up again. “Floyd calls you that. It's very poetic. Sounds like you should be guarding a treasure chest or something.”

Ablaze looked like he was trying to melt into the floor. “Please, stop talking.”

Branch laughed under her breath. “Yeah, I’m Floyd’s little sister. And you—” she nodded toward Hype “—are a lot.”

“Thank you,” Hype said, placing a hand on his chest, deeply flattered. “I strive to be.”

Ablaze cleared his throat, now redder than his hair. “Floyd really does talk about you. A lot. You’re like… his pride and joy.”

Branch blinked, a little surprised. “Wow. I didn’t know he talked about me that much.”

“I like the nickname Floyd gave you—‘Sapphire’,” Hype said, leaning dramatically over the counter like he was revealing a state secret. “But I know it’s, like, sacred sibling territory, so I won’t steal it. I’ll invent a gemstone nickname of my own for you, because—and this is just between us two fabulous people—I have a feeling our paths will keep colliding like glitter bombs at a rave. What was your name again?”

“Branch.”

Hype snapped his fingers. “Nope, not sparkly enough. I’ll come up with something awesome.”

The sapphire-eyed girl chuckled, clearly entertained by his flair. When she regained her composure, she glanced at Ablaze with a more serious tone. “Are you looking for Floyd?”

“Yes,” Ablaze said quickly, sounding very much like someone praying his friend would shut up before saying something worse.

Branch nodded, resting an elbow on the counter. “He and my other brother just left to drop off some boxes in Rhonda. I imagine Floyd told you that, since the festival ends tonight, we’re heading home early tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, he told me, actu—” Ablaze began, but was cut off by Hype, who was already revving up.

“Oh, totally! And Blazie’s so ready for that long-distance romance life. He’s got love letters planned, emotional playlists queued, possibly a dramatic goodbye rehearsed—”

“Hype!”

“—and don't even get me started on the custom couple bracelets he's secretly bought to give to Floyd tonight—”

“HYPE.”

Ignoring the growing red flush on Ablaze’s face, Hype turned back to Branch with a finger raised. “That's why Onyx is perfect! Mysterious, dark, dramatic—just like your hair and his future heartbreak if Blazie messes this up.”

Branch tilted her head, amused. “I like it. Although…” She raised a brow and looked at Ablaze, “I didn’t know you and Floyd had already made things official.”

Ablaze gave a slightly strangled laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “We haven’t... yet. Hype just gets excited. Loudly. In public.”

“I call it being emotionally supportive,” Hype declared, placing a hand on his chest with mock sincerity. “Honestly, you're welcome.”

“Do you mind if we wait here for Floyd to come back?” Ablaze asked, fully ignoring Hype now and clearly trying to change the subject.

“Not at all,” Branch said with a small, knowing smile.

As they waited, Hype began to roam around the stand, eyes lighting up like a kid in a candy store. “Whoa! This is so cool—did you guys make all this stuff?” he asked, picking up a tambourine with exaggerated reverence, as if it were an ancient relic.

“Some we make, others we restore or tune,” Branch replied casually, watching with mild amusement as Hype inspected every little detail like he was judging a musical competition.

“That’s amazing! Blazie, can you imagine Floyd playing one of these on your next date?” Hype grinned, nudging Ablaze with his elbow.

The redhead nearly choked on air. “Hype, can you not?”

Branch stifled a laugh, clearly enjoying the show. But before she could tease them further, she heard footsteps approaching. Looking up, she spotted Floyd and Clay walking back toward the stand.

“Floydie!” Hype practically shouted, waving both arms like he was flagging down a helicopter.

Floyd’s eyes lit up at the sight of Ablaze and Hype. “Blaze! I wasn't expecting you this early, and hello, Hype.”

“I figured I’d swing by before the festival wraps up,” Ablaze said, stepping closer to him with a soft smile.

Clay, meanwhile, leaned toward Branch, keeping his voice low. “And… who exactly are they?”

Branch gestured subtly. “The redhead’s Floyd’s possible next boyfriend. The loud one’s Hype. Proceed with caution.”

As Floyd and Ablaze chatted, Hype, unsurprisingly, had found his next target: a guitar on display. He picked it up like it had chosen him, strumming a few dramatic chords with the intensity of someone starting a rock ballad.

Ablaze turned, his eyes narrowing. “Hype. Please. Don’t break anything.”

“Relax,” Hype said, still strumming confidently. “I’m a natural. If anything, this guitar just became more valuable.”

Branch leaned on the counter, smirking. “If it survives Hype, it’s basically indestructible.”

Ablaze turned back to Floyd with a flirtatious smile, gently taking his hands. “Sorry for crashing your work hours, but I had to see you—and make sure you’ll be at the beach party tonight.”

Floyd smiled, trying to ignore the not-so-subtle glances from his siblings. “I’ll be there.”

“Perfect. Should I pick you up or...?”

“No, it’s fine. Let’s meet there directly.”

“Got it.” Ablaze leaned in and gave him a quick kiss, making both of them blush. “I better go return that overgrown toddler to our friends before he breaks something,” he added, nodding toward Hype.

Branch let out a quiet chuckle as Floyd flushed deeper. Clay raised an eyebrow, arms crossed, clearly entertained.

“Later, Floyd,” Ablaze said with a wink, then turned to where Hype was still entranced by the guitar. “Alright, let’s go. Boom’s on babysitting duty now.”

“I’m not a baby!” Hype pouted, then turned back to the guitar dramatically. “And give me a sec, Blazie! I’m not done communing with this majestic instrument. I think—yes—I feel my inner guitar god awakening!”

He struck a pose and began to fake a dramatic solo, his fingers barely forming a chord.

Clay didn’t flinch. “Your inner guitar god better have money, because that guitar’s not cheap.”

“Exactly!” Ablaze snatched the instrument with a sigh and gently returned it to the stand. “Let’s not repeat the xylophone incident, yeah? You’re a singer, Hype. A great one. The strings are not your destiny.”

“You wound me,” Hype said, clutching his chest with mock betrayal. But the moment passed, and his usual grin returned full force. “See you later, Onyx! And you too, brothers-in-law!” he called cheerily, waving as he followed Ablaze out.

Branch shook her head, still smiling.

“That one’s pure chaos... So, Onyx, huh?” Clay teased with a sideways grin.

Branch rolled her eyes fondly. “Yeah, he put effort into thinking of the nickname. I guess I should be flattered? I mean, he's apparently my brother-in-law, so it's nice that we could be friends.”

Floyd crossed his arms and sighed. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?” Branch replied innocently, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “We’re just admiring how completely gone our dear brother is for a certain redhead.”

“Totally smitten,” Clay added, putting on his best expression of mock-seriousness.

Floyd groaned. “Stop, please.”

Branch and Clay exchanged a glance and burst into soft laughter.

“Well, if we’re changing topics,” Branch said, brushing invisible dust off the counter, “I’m going to the beach party too.”

Clay looked at her like she’d just confessed to running away with a pirate. “Seriously?”

“Smidge invited me,” she said casually.

Clay sighed. “Good thing Floyd’s going, then. I’ll stay at the hotel and read. At least someone responsible will be there to make sure you don’t get in trouble.”

Floyd blinked. “Wait, what?”

Branch stared at Clay, arms crossed. “Wow. Do you hear yourself? I’m not a child. Smidge and I have hung out a thousand times. Why the sudden ‘dad mode’?”

Floyd raised a hand diplomatically. “To be fair, she’s got a point. But... if it helps, I’ll check in on her once in a while.”

“Deal,” Clay said without missing a beat, clearly satisfied.

Branch sighed and looked away, clearly unimpressed with the decision her older brothers had made for her.

“You two are such a pain in the ass,” she muttered—loud enough for them to hear.

“We heard that!” Floyd and Clay called out in unison.

“That was the point.” She rolled her eyes.

Clay just shrugged, flashing a smug grin. “You love us anyway.”

“Only sometimes.”

The conversation trailed off after that, and the rest of the day passed in a peaceful rhythm. They served the last of their customers, shifted boxes into Rhonda, and took turns sneaking off to the hotel to begin packing. When they finally closed up the stand, Clay reviewed the day’s numbers and smiled, visibly pleased.

“JD’s going to be proud. Festival sales were a total win.”

They bumped fists and high-fived, celebrating their hard work before loading the last boxes and heading back toward the hotel. The sun was sinking into the horizon, casting the sky in warm golds and oranges as they walked through the parking lot.

“You sure you don’t want to come to the party?” Floyd asked, eyeing Clay.

“Very sure.” Clay gave a small, contented smile. “I have a hot date with my book.”

Floyd clicked his tongue in mock disappointment, then turned to Branch with a conspiring look. “We really need to find him a girlfriend.”

Branch smirked. “Yeah, good luck. I don’t think there’s a woman alive with the patience to deal with that.”

“Oh please,” Clay scoffed, “I don’t need matchmaking from my annoying younger siblings. And anyway, I still can’t figure out how ‘Blazie’ puts up with you.”

Floyd gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Excuse me—I am a delight.”

“Sure,” Clay muttered, already walking ahead.

Their laughter echoed softly through the lot, light and familiar. They teased and argued like always, but beneath it all, the bond held firm—three siblings, each wildly different, and still perfectly in sync in their own chaotic way. The night still held promises for the younger two, but for this moment, everything felt exactly where it should be.

***

Arriving at the hotel, Floyd and Branch immediately began getting ready to head out, moving around the room with restless energy. Clay, meanwhile, had settled quietly on the couch with a book, occasionally glancing up from the pages to watch them pace back and forth.

"Yeah, I definitely don’t regret staying in the hotel room," he remarked with a smirk. "Watching this chaos is kind of fun."

“Shut up, Clay!” Floyd and Branch snapped in perfect unison.

Clay chuckled and returned to his reading, letting the whirlwind continue around him. Eventually, once Branch and Floyd had finished getting ready, they left the room. The moon cast a soft glow over the night, and though both tried to act calm, a shared mixture of excitement and nerves lingered in the air between them.

After several minutes of quiet walking, Floyd finally broke the silence.

“Sapphire.”

“Yes?”

“I think it’s obvious I’m not going to babysit you tonight. I only said that to keep Clay happy.”

Branch smirked. “I figured. After all, it’s your last date with ‘Blazie’.”

“Don’t start,” Floyd warned, laughing. But as his laughter faded, his expression turned serious. “But before anything else, I have one condition.”

Branch tilted her head, curious. “And what’s the condition?”

“You’re going to listen to what I have to say—no interruptions, no complaints. Got it?”

Branch hesitated, then gave a small nod. “I’m listening.”

Floyd let out a soft sigh, the kind that carried more weight than words. He spoke slowly, choosing each phrase with care. “Do you remember the day of the techno concert? The same day you ‘introduced’ us to Smidge—and I say introduced in the loosest sense because it was the most rushed introduction you’ve ever done.” He gave a small, almost nostalgic laugh. “Well, Clay and I noticed a boy with you that day.”

Branch said nothing, her eyes fixed on the path ahead, but her silence spoke volumes.

“I don’t know if he’s always been there when you say you’re out with Smidge. Maybe he’s just another ‘friend’ you forgot to mention. You do that sometimes because... I understand that we can be very overprotective of you.” Floyd’s voice wasn’t accusing—just concerned. “But… I’ve started to wonder. I have a feeling that he might be the real reason for those outings.”

Still, Branch remained quiet.

“I don’t know if you’ve truly been hanging out with Smidge… or if she’s just been a cover,” he added gently. “But I’m not going to ask you to explain, because I want to trust you, my sapphire.”

He paused, swallowing back his worry before continuing. “What I’m trying to say is… if it is him—if you’ve been seeing him in secret—I just hope you’re being careful with your heart. I don’t want you to fall into something that’s only temporary. We’re leaving tomorrow, Branch. Everything changes after this.”

Floyd faltered. Part of him wanted to bring up the wedding, closer than Branch expected, that was being organized behind her back; the betrothal that had haunted them both since her childhood. But Floyd hesitated, not wanting to cast a shadow over her night. Still, the truth tugged at him, heavy and unrelenting.

“You know the arrangement. Sooner or later, you’ll have to marry the man you were promised to since you were little. And what I fear the most…” He trailed off before reaching for her hand, his touch soft and grounding. “What I fear, Branch, is seeing you stuck in a loveless marriage, hurting in silence, all because of one fleeting moment of happiness at a festival.”

His voice trembled, but not from anger—just the raw, vulnerable love of an older brother. “I love you, my sapphire. You’re the most important person in the world to me. That’s why I care so much. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Branch lowered her gaze, the weight of his words settling in her chest. “Flo Flo, I—”

But he offered her a gentle smile and squeezed her hand before letting it go. “You don’t have to say anything. Not tonight. What matters is that I’m giving you this night—your night. Say what you need to say. Do what you need to do. Just… promise me you’ll think about it, okay?”

Branch exhaled, her voice soft but certain. “I will.”

Floyd reached out and affectionately ruffled her hair, just like when they were kids. “Good. Now come on, I’ve got a date with Ablaze, and I refuse to be fashionably late.”

Branch rolled her eyes, but the smile that tugged at her lips was real. Side by side, they walked on through the moonlight.

Chapter Text

When the siblings arrived at the party, Ablaze had clearly been waiting. The moment he spotted Floyd, his eyes lit up, and he cut through the crowd like it didn’t exist.

“I’m stealing your brother,” Ablaze said to Branch with a teasing smirk. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Branch gave a knowing smile. “He’s all yours.”

Floyd chuckled, already being pulled away by Ablaze’s warm hand wrapping around his.

“Come with me,” Ablaze murmured, tugging him gently toward the bar. “Let me spoil you a little.”

“A drink sounds like a good start,” Floyd replied, his voice low and flirty.

“What do you want?” Ablaze asked, leaning in close.

“Surprise me,” Floyd said, his eyes glinting.

While the bartender prepared their drinks, Ablaze turned fully toward him, his fingers slipping into Floyd’s hands again—this time slower, more deliberate.

“Floyd…” he said, voice soft.

“Mm?”

“I know this is new, and maybe it’s crazy, but…” Ablaze's gaze dropped for a moment before meeting Floyd’s eyes again. “I don’t want whatever this is—us—to end tonight.”

Floyd’s expression softened. “Neither do I. I love being with you… I feel like I could stay here forever.”

“I know it’s a little soon to ask, but… could we try? Even if it’s long-distance, even if it’s messy—I want to see where this goes. I want you.”

Floyd smiled, reaching up to cradle Ablaze’s cheek, pulling him just a breath away. “Ablaze,” he whispered, eyes locked on his lips. “I’d love nothing more.”

Ablaze felt a warmth bloom in his chest at Floyd’s words, like a spark catching fire. A genuine smile tugged at his lips, and his grip on Floyd’s hands tightened—part hope, part disbelief, as if afraid this moment might slip away.

“Really?” he asked, voice barely above a breath, searching Floyd’s eyes for reassurance.

Floyd let out a soft laugh, his thumb brushing along Ablaze’s cheek with a tenderness that made the redhead’s breath hitch. “Of course. I like you, Ablaze. And I want to see where this leads.”

Ablaze’s heart pounded, a rhythm that matched the bass of the music pulsing around them. Everything else faded—just Floyd, just this moment. He leaned in slightly, drawn to the quiet confidence in Floyd’s gaze, to the spark dancing in his eyes.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Ablaze whispered.

But Floyd didn’t give him a chance to say more. With a smile that made Ablaze’s knees go weak, he closed the distance between them, capturing his lips in a kiss that was soft, sincere, and full of promise. It wasn’t rushed—it lingered just enough to say this means something. When they finally pulled apart, Ablaze blinked, dazed and glowing.

“I have to say it… I love the way you seal deals.”

Floyd chuckled and leaned their foreheads together, eyes still closed. “Just making sure you really get how much I like you.”

Their drinks arrived then, set quietly on the bar—but neither of them moved. For now, time could wait. In the warmth of that shared gaze, in the echo of their kiss, everything else faded. What mattered most was clear: whatever came next, they were both all in.

*************************

“Seriously, I’m sorry we can’t celebrate together. I know you were really looking forward to this party,” Poppy said, regret lacing his voice.

Smidge let out a short laugh. “Poppy, you make it sound like I stayed behind sulking at the hotel. I practically live at your house—we see each other every day. But today? Today’s the last time you’ll see Brandy. Enjoy your date, okay? I’ll mingle, maybe make a new friend or two. And if not…” she shrugged with a grin, “I’ve actually been enjoying my own company lately. Turns out I’m kind of awesome to hang out with.”

“Are you sure?” Poppy asked, still hesitant. “I don’t think Brandy would mind if you joined—”

“And be your third wheel? Please, no. I told you, you’ve got me every other day. Brandy’s just got tonight.”

Poppy sighed, the guilt not fully fading, but he gave her a grateful smile. “You’re right, but—”

His words stopped cold in his throat.

Because then he saw her.

The owner of those unforgettable sapphire eyes.

His breath caught. His lips parted, stunned into silence, and whatever thoughts Poppy had were swept away like waves on the shore.

There, among the celebration on the moonlit beach, stood Branch—looking like she’d stepped straight out of a dream. The soft silver light seemed to follow her, dancing over the contours of her figure, casting a glow only she could wear.

Branch wore a light blue denim jacket with turquoise accents, layered effortlessly over a pink plaid top laced with baby blue lines that hinted at her midriff. Her pleated silver skirt kissed her knees with every breeze, adding a relaxed elegance to her look. A thick blue and black belt cinched her waist, and pale blue platform sandals laced delicately around her ankles, elongating her frame with effortless grace. Her hair was styled in two high buns, with loose curls cascading in spirals dyed in hues of blue, black, and white, framing her face as if placed there by the stars themselves. Around her neck, the locket her brothers had given her glinted gently beneath the moonlight.

And those eyes—those searching, sparkling sapphire eyes—were locked on him.

Every detail, every glance, every inch of her felt surreal. Like the night itself had dressed her just for him.

Poppy swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. His heart pounded so loudly he half-wondered if the whole beach could hear it.

“Wow…” he breathed, the word slipping out before he could stop it.

Beside him, Smidge raised an eyebrow at his expression, a knowing grin tugging at her lips. “I think someone just forgot how to breathe.”

But Poppy didn’t hear her. Everything around him—the music, the laughter, the ocean’s whisper—blurred into background noise. In that moment, any lingering doubts, any fear, anyone else on the beach ceased to exist. There was only her. And suddenly, there was no question in his heart: he was completely, irrevocably in love.

“Go get Brandy, tiger,” Smidge said with a teasing nudge.

He didn’t need more than that.

With a smile caught somewhere between breathless joy and terrified wonder, Poppy stepped forward, weaving through the crowd with his gaze locked on her. The world softened around him, as if time itself had slowed to watch what was about to unfold.

Branch spotted him through the crowd, and though she tried to hold herself steady, her fingers betrayed her—nervously fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. She didn’t want the night to end. But she knew it would. That’s what made it feel so fleeting, so precious.

When Poppy finally reached her, he paused—just for a second—to take her in. The moonlight played across her skin like a spotlight made just for her. The breeze toyed gently with the loose spirals of her hair, and the sparkle in her sapphire eyes held him like gravity.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured. The words were soft, but she heard them—clearly, intimately.

Branch looked down, a soft blush rising to her cheeks. “You look… pretty amazing yourself.”

Poppy’s smile deepened, warm and full of awe. Without thinking, he offered his hand. His fingers tingled with anticipation as Branch hesitated for only a heartbeat, then placed hers in his.

The touch sent a flutter through his chest, and for a breathless moment, the universe narrowed to just that contact. But instead of letting himself get swept up by the intensity, Poppy made a silent vow: He wanted to savor every heartbeat, every glance, every second he had with the girl with sapphire eyes.

“What do you say we have a little fun tonight?” Poppy asked, a mischievous spark lighting up his eyes.

Branch tilted her head, intrigued. “What kind of fun are we talking about?”

“I mean... if this is our last night together, I don’t want us to spend it dreading goodbye. I want us to make it unforgettable.”

Branch let out a soft laugh, but the twinkle in Poppy’s eyes was contagious. “Alright, then. What do you have in mind?”

First, Poppy led her to the nearest beachside bar, where they each ordered fruity drinks that came with tiny umbrellas and even tinier flamingo stirrers. Between shared sips and laughter, their hands brushed now and then—each contact lingering just a little longer than the last. They swapped silly stories, teased each other over drink choices, and shared glances that said more than either of them dared to speak aloud.

Later, they wandered toward a table full of treats. Branch burst into genuine laughter when she caught Poppy’s expression of utter bliss after biting into a chocolate-dipped strawberry.

“I never pegged you as such a chocolate lover.”

“Are you kidding?” Poppy said dramatically, holding up another fruit like a rare treasure. “This is divine. But I’ll admit…” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to send a chill down her spine, “It tastes better when I share it with you.”

Branch felt her cheeks flush, but she didn’t shy away. She leaned in too, raising an eyebrow. “If you keep talking like that, I’m going to start thinking you’re trying to make me fall for you.”

Poppy grinned. “And what if I am?”

Branch met his gaze without blinking. For a breathless second, something in the air between them shimmered.

“Then… you might be succeeding,” she said, her voice soft but sure.

Poppy’s heart swelled at her words, but instead of ruining the moment with anything too serious, he just took her hand and gently tugged her toward a small gathering of people sending paper rockets into the sky. Together, they stood watching the flickers of light rise until they disappeared into the dark.

“It’s beautiful,” Branch whispered.

Poppy, however, didn’t look at the sky. He looked at her. “Yeah… it really is.”

Branch caught his gaze, and her breath caught for a beat. Then, the music shifted and floated around them like a secret meant only for two.

Poppy extended his hand again, this time more gently. “Dance with me?”

Branch smiled, this time with no teasing—just warmth. “I’d love to.”

The ocean breeze curled around them like a soft ribbon as Poppy led her onto the sand. Torchlight cast a golden glow around them, making Branch's eyes sparkle like they held stars. And in that moment, with her hand in his and the world fading away, Poppy knew: he’d remember this night forever.

“T'es la meilleure chose qui m'est arrivée

Mais aussi la pire chose qui m'est arrivée.”

Poppy looked down and found Branch's sapphire eyes shimmering under the moonlight. Her gaze held a storm of unspoken emotion—raw, tender, and infinite—all reflected back in the quiet glow of her pupils.

“I don’t want this to be goodbye…” Poppy whispered, his voice barely rising above the soft strains of music in the air.

Branch swallowed hard, her arms tightening ever so slightly around him. “Neither do I…”

“La pire des bénédictions

La plus belle des malédictions

De toi, j'devrais m'éloigner

Mais comme dit le dicton

’Plutôt qu'être seul, mieux vaut être mal accompagné””

The night wrapped around them like silk, the music threading between their heartbeats. Poppy slid a hand to Branch’s waist, pulling her closer until their bodies moved as one. Their breaths mingled in the space between them, warm and shallow, and the rest of the world simply faded away.

Branch let her forehead fall gently against his, her lashes fluttering shut as her heart raced in her chest.

“Mais ma meilleure ennemie, c'est toi

Fuis-moi, le pire, c'est toi et moi

Mais si tu cherches encore ma voix

Oublie-moi, le pire, c'est toi et moi”

With infinite care, Poppy ran his thumb along the curve of her cheek, his touch lingering as though trying to memorize the feel of her—her warmth, her softness, her presence.

“I don’t know what comes after tonight,” Branch murmured, her voice trembling like a leaf in the wind, “but I want to hold on to this… forever.”

A soft smile bloomed on Poppy’s lips. He tilted his head, brushing the tip of his nose against hers in a fleeting nuzzle, and whispered back, “Then let’s make forever start right now.”

Without another thought, Poppy captured Branch’s lips in a slow, tender kiss—hesitant at first, as if they were both trying to hold onto the moment, to imprint the feeling on their souls before time could take it away. His other hand also slid to her waist, drawing her in with a quiet urgency, while Branch threaded her fingers through his hair, clutching him like he was something fragile, something she couldn’t bear to lose.

Around them, the world continued to turn—the waves lapping gently at the shore, the music drifting on the breeze, the distant laughter of others carried by the wind—but for them, everything had stilled. Time held its breath.

Branch was the first to part, just barely, her lips brushing his as she pulled back mere millimeters. Her breath trembled between them, and her eyes sparkled with something Poppy couldn’t quite name—but he felt it in his chest all the same.

“Poppy…” she whispered.

He smiled softly, resting his forehead against hers. “I know.”

Branch let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head with affection. Poppy wrapped his arms around her, and together they began to sway gently to the music still playing, letting it guide their hearts.

They remained like that for long, precious minutes—wrapped in each other, breathing the same air, their movements slow and unhurried, like the moment could stretch forever. When the final chord of the song faded into the night, Branch looked up at him with a tender smile.

“Thank you for tonight.”

Poppy’s fingers traced the curve of her cheek, his touch feather-light, reverent. “No... thank you, for making it unforgettable.”

Branch’s laughter was soft, warm, like the night breeze. She laced her fingers with his and gave a playful tug. “Come on. I want to enjoy every second we still have.”

Hand in hand, they made their way toward the secluded spot they had discovered on their first date—a secret spot tucked between palm trees and moonlit rocks, where the sea whispered stories just for them. They settled among the stones, shoulders brushing, eyes fixed on the silver path the moon carved into the waves.

“I wish tonight could last forever,” Poppy said softly, after a long stretch of silence.

Branch turned her head to look at him, her expression curious. “Why?”

Poppy glanced down at his hands, his thumbs fidgeting slightly as he searched for the right words. “Because… I like being with you. I like the way you argue with me over the tiniest things. I like how you try to hide that you’re having fun—even when your smile gives you away. And right now, sitting here with you… everything feels like it’s exactly where it’s supposed to be.”

Branch’s heart stumbled in her chest. She hadn’t expected him to bare himself like that—not with such tenderness.

“Poppy—”

Before she could say more, he reached for her hand, gently lacing their fingers together. His touch was warm, grounding.

“I’m not going to ask you for promises,” he murmured, his gaze steady on hers. “I’m not going to ask you to plan ahead, or think about what comes next. I just want you here. With me. In this moment.”

Branch looked at him, her words caught somewhere between her heart and her throat. But in that moment, she realized she didn’t need to say anything.

And maybe he already knew.

Poppy gave a quiet smile, his thumb brushing the back of her hand. “So, for now… let’s just be here.”

Chapter Text

Poppy smiled, once again getting lost in that pair of sapphire eyes. He stepped closer, but before their lips could meet, Branch cupped his face in her hands, her gaze tracing every detail of his expression.

“Can we pretend,” she whispered, “that maybe this kiss won’t be the last?”

Poppy nodded, finally closing the distance between them. Branch’s lips were warm, trembling, yet they fit perfectly against his. The first touch was featherlight, a tender brush, more a sigh than a kiss. But soon, unspoken longing, aching love, and the ache of impending farewell seeped into it, deepening the moment into something fierce and unforgettable.

Branch's hands slipped from his cheeks to his neck, as if trying to anchor herself in time. Poppy held her tightly, arms wrapped around her waist, drawing her as close as he could, as though he might become one with her if he just held on hard enough.

The waves in the distance seemed to echo their rhythm—gentle at first, then urgent. Poppy’s fingers slid down her back, and a shiver ran through her at his touch. He gripped the edge of her jacket, hearts pounding in unison, desperate to make the moment last. Branch sighed softly against his lips, and that sound alone made him deepen the kiss—tilting his head, memorizing her, imprinting her.

It was a kiss soaked in everything they felt and everything they feared: love, longing, desperation… and the quiet vow that, no matter what came next, they would never forget.

When they finally parted, breathless, Poppy rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“If I could freeze one moment in my life… it would be this one,” he murmured with a trembling smile.

Branch let out a quiet laugh, her eyes glistening with both joy and sorrow. “Then don’t forget it.”

“Never.”

Silence fell between them, but it was full—of meaning, of memory.

“You know...” Poppy murmured, his voice barely louder than the breeze, “I can’t help but wonder what it would be like—if there were a world where you and I could be together. A world where we didn’t have to choose between each other and the lives we’re meant to return to.”

He tightened his embrace around Branch’s delicate frame, holding her as if she might dissolve into the night.

Branch didn’t answer right away. Her eyes were fixed on the waves lapping gently at the shore, where moonlight shimmered in silvery fragments—so beautiful, yet fleeting.

“If that world exists...” she finally whispered, her voice fraying at the edges, “it’s far away from here. Is one I'll have to miss... because it belongs to a life I wasn’t meant to live.” Her lashes fluttered shut, and a sigh slipped from her lips. “There’s a poem by a Mexican writer… ‘the loves that last forever are the briefest ones.’ And maybe it’s true. Maybe the ones we can’t keep are the ones that stay in our hearts and memories longest. But... it’s not wrong to dream, is it?”

Poppy said nothing. He only held her tighter, as if his arms could will that other world into existence—just for a few more seconds, just long enough.

Branch lowered her gaze, thoughts drifting to the home waiting for her. To the unspoken expectations, to the promise she made to be who they needed her to be. Her siblings had trusted her with freedom, and she’d spent it on something she couldn’t take back. She remembered Floyd’s warning—meant to protect her—and for the first time, she understood. The pain of leaving wasn’t just in the parting, but in knowing she could never come back to this moment. Still, Branch didn’t regret it. Not one second. When she returned, she would do what was expected. Branch would be the version of herself they could accept.

But not yet.

Now wasn’t the time for endings.

They remained there in silence, wrapped in each other and in the hush of the sea. Somewhere in the distance, the faint echo of laughter drifted from the party they’d left behind. The dawn would come, and with it, reality—but for as long as the night held them, they pretended the world was only them. And in the hush between the waves and the stars, pretending almost felt like enough.

Time slipped by unnoticed—lost in whispers, soft caresses, and conversations they would carry with them forever. Everything felt suspended, perfect, untouched by the outside world... until the shrill ring of a phone shattered the fragile stillness like glass. Branch tensed instantly, her body going rigid as reality crashed back in.

The spell was broken.

She glanced at the glowing screen, and before answering, looked up at Poppy with an expression that held both apology and resignation—like someone being pulled away from a dream they weren’t ready to leave.

“I’m sorry…” she murmured, exhaling a breath that trembled at the end, then accepted the call.

Poppy didn’t speak. He couldn’t. The lump in his throat was too thick, too heavy. But he knew. The end was already here.

“Hello?” Branch’s voice came out steady, composed—but Poppy, who knew her better than anyone now, could hear the slight waver beneath it.

“Where are you?” Floyd’s voice crackled through the receiver, sharp with worry. “Ablaze and I have been looking everywhere for you! Do you even know what time it is? We need to head back to the hotel!”

Branch pulled the phone away to check the time, and her eyes widened. It was late—much later than she’d realized.

“I’m sorry. I lost track of time. I’ll be there soon,” she said quietly, then ended the call.

Branch didn’t move. Just stood there, phone still in hand, her silence louder than any goodbye. Poppy watched as her fingers tightened around the device, knuckles pale—as if, by holding it tightly enough, she could delay the moment just a little longer. As if the last scraps of freedom might stay with her a few seconds more.

“Do you have to go?” Poppy asked, though the answer lingered heavy in the silence between them.

Branch sighed softly, letting the phone slide from her hand onto her lap. When she looked at him, her eyes shimmered with emotion—sadness, regret... and something else. Something unspoken. Something aching.

“Yes…” she whispered, so faintly it was almost a breath.

Poppy tried to smile, but it faltered beneath the weight in his chest. “So... is this goodbye?”

Branch nodded—just once—and before the truth could collapse them both, she curled back into his chest, eyes fluttering shut as she tried to memorize the warmth of his arms one last time.

Poppy cupped her face with trembling tenderness, brushing his thumb along her cheek. Her sapphire eyes locked with his, and in them he saw everything: the love they’d found too late, the longing, the silent plea not to let go. He had so much to say, so many promises on the tip of his tongue... but none of them could rewrite what fate had already written.

So instead, he kissed her.

This kiss was different—deeper, more urgent. It wasn’t just love—it was desperation. A plea. A goodbye stitched into every motion. Branch tangled her fingers into his hair, holding tight, as Poppy’s hands slid down her back, pulling her as close as humanly possible. If their hearts could merge, they would have. If time could have frozen, it would have.

But it didn’t.

Their lips parted slowly, reluctantly, until their foreheads met, breaths mingling, eyes shut against the truth.

“I love you...” Poppy whispered, even though it made the ache worse. He needed her to know.

Branch’s eyes squeezed shut. For a moment, she didn’t speak—just let the words echo in her soul. Then her voice came, soft and breaking.

“I don’t want to make this harder than it already is. People say we make our own destiny... but you and I—we always knew we were destined to break.” Her breath hitched. “You were never mine, not really. Even if... even if every part of me still wishes otherwise.”

Poppy parted his lips to speak, but Branch gently placed a finger over them, silencing him with a touch as soft as a whisper.

“Don’t,” she murmured. “Let me finish.” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her voice fragile but steady—at least for now.  “I don’t doubt that what you feel is real,” she began, her tone thick with emotion. “But... it’s hard for me to believe that you can love someone who has spent so long pretending to be someone she’s not.” She paused, the weight of that truth threatening to crush her. “I would love to explain what I mean, but I can’t. Because doing that would mean crossing a line I’m not ready to cross. Not if I want to protect the little that’s left of my heart.”

Her voice cracked, just barely, but she kept going.

“Maybe you think you love me now. Maybe, for a while, you’ll even believe it. But someday, I know you'll come to your senses and realize... I was just a fleeting chapter. A lovely memory. A story you’ll tell when you’re older—something that makes your voice soften but no longer makes your heart ache.”

Her smile was trembling, fragile, meant to soothe—but it crumbled beneath the tears that finally spilled, betraying her calm.

Poppy wanted to protest, to tell her she was wrong, that he did know her—more than anyone ever had. But before he could say a word, Branch pulled away, the warmth of her touch vanishing like smoke in the wind.

“Please don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t make this harder.”

Poppy’s heart pounded against his ribs. He reached for her instinctively, unwilling to let her go, but Branch had already stepped back.

Then another step. And another.

“Brandy—” he choked out, voice breaking with desperation.

But Branch shook her head, eyes shining with quiet devastation. “No.” Her tone was firm, even as her voice trembled. “Don’t say anything else. If you do, I won’t be able to leave.”

She wiped her tears with trembling hands, as if trying to erase every trace of weakness. But her chest rose and fell with shallow, broken breaths.

“Just… promise me something,” Branch said at last, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “Promise me you’ll forget. Go back to your life. Live it. Smile again. Because I swear—I’ll do the same.”

The words hit Poppy like a blow to the chest, knocking the air from his lungs. He wanted to scream that he couldn’t, that forgetting her was unthinkable.

“But—”

“Please.” Branch’s voice cracked, fragile and raw. “Let me go.”

Poppy felt the ground vanish beneath him, like he was falling with no end. Every part of him screamed to run after her, to hold on, to beg her not to leave. But she was already turning, already walking away.

“I love you...” Poppy whispered into the wind, though he knew she couldn’t hear him anymore.

And as she disappeared into the night, something in him broke. His heart still beat—but part of it had gone quiet forever.

Branch, meanwhile, felt like her body was betraying her with every step. Her legs moved forward, but her soul reached back—toward the warmth of his arms, the safety of his love. She wanted to turn around. To run to Poppy. To forget everything else and just stay.

But she couldn’t.

She shouldn’t.

Each heartbeat twisted the knot in her throat tighter. Her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed. Her legs trembled, but she forced herself to keep going.

Don’t stop me, Poppy, she begged silently. Don’t call me back. Don’t make this harder than it already is.

The night wind bit through her, or maybe it was just the cold left behind by his absence. A growing hollow spread in her chest—a wound, vast and echoing. She had imagined this goodbye so many times, telling herself she would be strong when it came. That she wouldn’t let it break her. But with every step away from him, her heart unraveled a little more.

Branch bit her lip until she tasted blood—metallic, sharp—like maybe physical pain could dull the ache inside her. But nothing could soften the weight of what she had just done. When she finally stopped, her fists were clenched so tight her nails carved crescents into her palms. She let out a shaky breath and tilted her head to the sky, where the stars blinked down in cruel silence.

“I love you too,” she whispered into the stillness, letting the words drift into the night like fragile embers—hoping, somehow, they might find their way to him.

But Branch knew they wouldn’t.

She knew Poppy would be left with only questions, doubts she had planted herself. And maybe… that was for the best.

Her trembling hands wiped at her wet cheeks. Then, with a breath that cracked in her chest, Branch reached for the red thread bracelet on her wrist. She snapped it.

A quiet farewell.

A final severing.

And with that, Branch kept walking—leaving behind the ashes of what could’ve been.

She didn’t look back.

Chapter Text

Smidge let out a soft sigh at the sight of Poppy sprawled on the bed. Even in sleep, his face wasn’t peaceful—his brow was creased, his lips slightly downturned. He looked tired. Worn out. Defeated.

Gently, she shook his shoulder. “Come on, Pop. Time to go.”

Poppy frowned but didn’t open his eyes. Instead, he mumbled as he turned away, “Five more minutes…”

Smidge clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. “Nope. That ship’s sailed. Get up.”

One of Poppy’s eyes cracked open, just enough to reveal the puffiness beneath. “No. Leave me alone,” he grumbled, yanking the sheets over his head.

Smidge arched a brow, hands planting firmly on her hips. She sighed again—but this time, it carried purpose.

“You asked for it…”

She marched to the kitchenette, filled a glass with cold water, and returned without missing a beat. In one swift motion, she ripped off the covers and dumped the icy contents right onto his face.

“Smidge!” Poppy shot up, sputtering and blinking, hair now dripping as he gawked at her in betrayal.

Smidge beamed, unapologetic. “Don’t give me that look. I tried being nice. You ignored me. Now—move it. We have to go.”

Poppy grunted but had no choice but to obey. He sat at the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes. “Aren’t you going to feel sorry for me? I have a broken heart.”

Smidge sighed and dropped beside him, nudging his shoulder gently. “Poppy Beaumont, you knew what you were signing up for. We talked about it before your so-called brilliant plan. You chose the risk.”

Poppy stared at the floor. “I know... it just hurts anyway.”

Smidge wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight, steadying hug. At first, he was still—but then, slowly, he leaned into her, clinging like her embrace might hold him together.

“I told Brandy I loved her,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Smidge blinked, then held him a little tighter. “Pop... what did she say?”

“She asked me not to make things harder for both of us.”

A quiet sigh escaped Smidge as she rested her chin on his head. “At least Brandy’s got some sense.”

Poppy let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. I guess she does.”

“We knew this was a possibility,” she murmured. “And still, you went for it.”

“I had to try,” he muttered.

Smidge pulled back, just enough to meet his eyes. She offered a small, crooked smile and ruffled his hair.

“Well... it’s done now. Time to go home.”

Poppy drew in a slow breath. His chest still ached, but her words brought a fragile calm. He managed a faint smile.

“Yeah... let’s go.”

Smidge stood and held out her hand. “Come on. Don’t make me regret going soft.”

Poppy rolled his eyes, but took her hand and rose. “Yeah, yeah... I’m coming.”

Poppy rubbed his face, still half-asleep, while Smidge stood with her arms crossed, eyeing him from head to toe like a disapproving coach.

“You can’t go out like this. You look like a sad raccoon.”

Poppy frowned. “Thanks, Smidge. That’s super encouraging.”

She grinned, grabbed his wrist, and tugged him toward the bathroom mirror. “Just look at yourself—dark circles, puffy eyes, hair that’s... a crime against nature. And don’t get me started on those cupcake pajamas.”

“Hey! I like these pajamas.”

“I know. That’s exactly why they’ve got to go. Last time you wore them, at least you weren’t emotionally destroyed.”

Poppy huffed, but a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “Fine. I’ll change.”

“Good. While you fix that disaster, I’ll order milkshakes. You need energy, and I need patience.”

She breezed out, and Poppy lingered by the mirror, staring at the reflection. Smidge was right—he looked like a mess. But at least he wasn’t a mess alone.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, now in fresh clothes and with his hair somewhat tamed, Smidge was waiting with two milkshakes in hand.

“Here,” she said, offering him one. “Extra sugar. You clearly need it.”

Poppy took it with a grateful smile. “You’re the best.”

Smidge scoffed, smirking. “Obviously. Now, let’s go. If I have to drive in the dark because of you, I swear I’ll turn this day around.”

Poppy frowned. “Who said you’re driving my car?”

Smidge arched an eyebrow, dangled the keys with a smug grin. “I did. Face it—you're in no shape to drive. One sad song and you'd spiral into intrusive-thought territory.”

Poppy squinted at her, then sighed in surrender. “Fine... but I’m in charge of the playlist.”

Smidge rolled her eyes, clearly amused but didn’t argue. They packed the rest of their luggage in silence and left the hotel. Once the suitcases were loaded and they were buckled in, Smidge started the engine and pulled onto the road toward the manor.

The drive was unusually quiet—too quiet for Smidge’s liking.

“You’re way too quiet. It’s weird.”

Poppy, staring out the window, barely turned his head. “Not much to say.”

Smidge glanced at him, then focused back on the road. A moment later, she caught the sound of him murmuring something under his breath.

“What was that? You mumbling again, Pop?”

He let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes briefly. “You’re gonna hate me.”

Smidge shot him a quick side glance, brows lifted. “Hate you? Come on, dramatic much?”

“I mean it. You will.”

“Uh-huh. And what makes you so sure?”

Poppy hesitated, lips pressed into a tight line. Then he turned toward her, guilt clouding his expression.

“Because... I’m seriously thinking about breaking our promise.”

Smidge’s jaw tensed, her eyes still locked on the road. “What promise?”

Poppy swallowed hard, but his voice didn’t waver. “When we get home, I’m going to find Branch… and ask her to end our engagement.”

“What?!” Smidge slammed the brakes.

The car jolted violently, both of them screaming as they lurched forward—thankfully, the road was empty.

“Smidge!” Poppy clutched the dashboard, his heart racing. “We could’ve crashed!”

“Then don’t drop a bomb like that while I’m driving!” she snapped, swatting his arm with the back of her hand. She took a breath, hands gripping the wheel tighter as she tried to calm down. “You can’t be serious, Poppy—”

“I am,” he cut in, eyes steady. “And I’m sorry for breaking our promise. I know we said I’d go back like nothing happened, but I can’t. I won’t lie to myself, and I won’t lie to her.”

Smidge stared at him, stunned. Her expression shifted—confusion, frustration, then something softer behind her eyes.

“Do you even hear how crazy you sound?”

Poppy let out a faint, bitter laugh. “Maybe… But what I need to know is—do I still have my best friend’s support?”

A heavy silence stretched between them. Smidge sighed, long and loud, then finally rolled her eyes.

“Always,” she said, and this time, her voice was gentle.

Poppy’s smile was faint, but real. He turned his gaze back to the window.

The rest of the drive passed in silence—not heavy, not tense. Just quiet. The kind of quiet that says everything words don’t have to. The kind that only exists between people who’ll stand by each other, no matter what comes next.

*************************

The three youngest Chordwell siblings traveled home in heavy silence. No one spoke; each was lost in their own thoughts. Clay and Floyd silently debated how to break the news, while Branch sat in the back, her head leaned against the window, pretending to care about the passing scenery.

She kept her gaze outside, willing her breath to stay even, the tears to stay put. Branch couldn’t cry—not in front of Clay and Floyd. If she did, they’d start asking questions she didn’t have answers for… or worse, ones she refused to answer.

So focused was she on keeping it together, Branch didn’t catch the exchanged glances up front. She didn’t notice Clay quietly locking the child safety on her door or Floyd glancing skyward like he was asking for strength. It wasn’t until Floyd cleared his throat that she looked up.

“My beautiful sapphire, we need to talk,” he said, meeting her gaze in the rearview mirror.

Branch raised an eyebrow, trying to appear indifferent even as alarm bells rang in her head. Do they know something? Did I slip?

“About what?” she asked, shifting to the middle seat so she could see them better.

Clay kept his eyes on the road. “Floyd has something to tell you… about your engagement.”

Her stomach dropped. Her brows knitted as she turned sharply to Floyd, who now looked like he wanted to strangle Clay.

Floyd sighed and forced a weak smile—one that barely masked the worry behind his eyes. “Some things happened while we were gone. Big things.”

Branch felt a chill crawl up her spine. “Like what?” she asked, her voice low.

Floyd opened his mouth, paused, then inhaled slowly, clearly struggling to find the right words.

“You see…”

“Just spit it out, Floyd,” Clay said, the tension cracking in his tone.

Floyd shot Clay a glare. “If it’s so easy, you tell her.”

“Tell me what?” Branch snapped, her voice sharp, eyes narrowing. Her patience was fraying—fast.

The silence that followed said everything. Her brothers exchanged a glance. A heavy one. And just like that—Branch knew. Whatever it was… it would hurt.

Floyd inhaled slowly, closing his eyes as if the words themselves might explode. “While we were away… Mr. Beaumont decided there’s no point in waiting. He wants the wedding soon. And according to what JD told us…” He hesitated, his voice faltering. “Brandy and your fiancé’s sister are already planning things. The date’s set.” He looked at her then, almost apologetic. “You’re getting married in three weeks.”

The words echoed in her mind, hollow and distant.

Three weeks? That was it? That was the big announcement? Her brain clung to it, confused. All this drama, just to tell her the wedding would be… sooner? Three weeks…

And then—it landed.

Oh.

OH.

Three weeks.

Twenty-one days.

And then… a life shackled to a stranger.

Panic swelled in her throat. Her chest tightened with every breath. Rage. Helplessness. Shame. It all burned beneath her ribs like fire with nowhere to go. Branch wanted to scream. Break the window. Pull the car over and run until her legs gave out.

But she couldn’t.

Because her brothers didn’t know.

They didn’t know what she’d done at the festival. The secret Branch was dragging behind her like a chain. They didn’t know she’d broken their trust. And they definitely didn’t know the promise she'd made to herself the night before, when guilt wrapped around her like a noose.

No complaining. No resisting. Just acceptance.

Because this was the punishment she had chosen for daring to fall in love with someone who wasn't her fiancé.

Branch took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay composed. With robotic grace, she slid back to her seat by the window, leaned her head against the cool glass, and whispered, “Okay.”

Silence fell over the car like a weighted blanket. Floyd and Clay stared at each other, stunned. That was not the reaction they had braced for. They’d imagined shouting, denial, even a meltdown. Not… surrender.

“Okay?” they echoed, their voices tinged with disbelief.

Branch didn’t flinch. Her eyes remained fixed on the window, where her own reflection stared back—blank and unfamiliar.

“It was bound to happen eventually, right?” she said, her tone flat, mechanical. A girl talking about the weather. Not her wedding. Not her life.

Clay’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, but—”

“I like this song,” Branch cut in quietly. “Can you turn it up?”

Her voice wasn’t cold. It wasn’t angry. It was nothing. And that, more than anything, scared them. Floyd hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen. Then, without a word, he turned up the volume. The music swelled, filling the car with a melody far too cheerful for the moment.

Branch blinked as her vision blurred. The first tear slipped down her cheek, but she wiped it away quickly—angrily. At least now, no one will ask why she was crying.

Chapter Text

The journey dragged on in an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the faint hum of music leaking from the car speakers. Floyd tapped an erratic rhythm on his thigh, his fingers twitching with unspoken thoughts. Clay’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had gone white. Neither of them spoke. Neither knew how to reach her.

Branch was unraveling—and they could see it.

Floyd’s gaze flicked toward the rearview mirror. His baby sister hadn’t moved since she’d asked him to turn the music up, as if drowning in sound could help her escape. Branch sat motionless, her forehead leaning against the cold glass, eyes locked on the blur of the passing world. It was as though she wished she could vanish into it—become nothing, feel nothing.

“Sapphire…” Floyd said softly, unsure of what he even meant to say. 

No answer.

Clay clicked his tongue in frustration and reached out to shut off the radio. Silence swallowed the car. “Don’t do this,” he said—low, steady. Not angry. Just...aching.

Branch blinked, slowly dragging her eyes from the window. “Do what?”

“The thing you always do,” Floyd said, folding his arms. “Shutting down. Pretending it’s fine until you can’t hold it in anymore.”

“I’m not pretending anything.” Her voice was hollow, barely there. Branch gave a little shrug, but it felt more like a flinch.

Clay tightened his grip on the wheel. “Then look us in the eye,” he said, eyes fixed ahead, “and tell us you’re really okay with this.”

Silence again.

The car felt smaller now. Heavier.

Clay sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Branch, we’re not the enemy. You don’t have to carry this alone. If you’re hurting, just say it. Please.”

Branch’s throat tightened. She looked at her brothers—her protectors, her constants—and guilt twisted inside her like a knife. They were only trying to help. But they didn’t understand.

Branch couldn’t tell them. Couldn’t admit that she’d stepped over a line she was never supposed to cross. That for once, she hadn’t thought about consequences or others or duty. That for once... she wanted something just for herself.

And now, Branch was drowning in the cost of it.

“There’s nothing to say,” Branch murmured at last, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is what’s expected of me. What I have to do.”

Floyd’s brow furrowed. “And what do you want?”

Branch’s lips pressed into a tight line. Her answer came cold and flat. “That doesn’t matter.”

Floyd let out a dry, humorless laugh. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” He turned in his seat to look at her properly. “Of course it matters, my beautiful sapphire. You matter.”

Her chest ached. She shut her eyes, squeezing them tightly shut. If they kept going—if they kept peeling back the layers—she would break right there in the back seat. And she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Branch took in a shaky breath and forced a smile onto her face.

“I love you both so much, you know that?”

Clay and Floyd exchanged a glance, unsure how to interpret the sudden shift in her tone.

“…We know,” Clay said slowly, cautiously.

Branch nodded, settling back in her seat as if she could physically bury the truth beneath her. “Then trust me,” she said with a brittle softness. “I’m fine.”

Floyd didn’t look convinced. He studied her in silence, as though trying to read between the lines of her forced calm, searching for the version of her they knew was still in there somewhere.

Finally, he sighed and gave her a small, weary smile. “You’re a terrible liar, my sapphire.”

Branch let out a low, dry laugh. “At least I’m trying.”

The rest of the ride passed in heavy, respectful silence. Clay and Floyd didn’t push any further. They knew their sister too well—knew that pressing her now would only make her retreat further. When Branch was ready, she’d let them in. Until then, they would wait.

And they would never leave her side.

***

When they pulled into the driveway, Clay hadn’t even turned off the engine before the front door burst open with a bang. A wave of laughter and squeals came tumbling out of the house like a tidal wave of joy.

“Uncles! Auntie Branch!”

Branch had barely stepped out of the car when the little ones rushed her, all arms and wild energy. They launched into a group hug, clinging to Branch like she might disappear again if they let go.

“Surprise, Auntie Branch!” Rainy beamed up at her, practically bouncing with excitement.

Branch blinked, caught off guard, before her lips curved into a soft smile. “Surprise?”

“Yes!” LaBreezey chirped, eyes shining. “Mommy and Daddy helped us plan something super special for you—because we missed our favorite aunt so much!”

Branch gave a half-laugh, feigning a scoff. “I’m your only aunt.”

LaBreezey grinned. “Still the favorite.”

Warmth bloomed in Branch's chest, soft and unexpected.

Bruce stepped out from behind his children, his gaze full of fondness as he watched his younger siblings around Rhonda. “It’s good to see you back,” he said gently, his calm voice grounding the moment. Then he turned to Branch, a mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. “Shortie, I hope this little surprise boosts my rankings as favorite brother,” he added with a wink, that familiar blend of teasing and tenderness only he could pull off.

Branch rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her affection. “You wish.”

Their playful banter was cut short by the quiet appearance of John Dory in the doorway. He didn’t rush, but there was something in his stride, something quiet and intent, that set him apart from the rest. He walked toward his siblings, steady and calm, while Bruce and Brandy stayed behind, smiling at the reunion unfolding.

John stopped in front of Branch, silent for a beat. Then his eyes met hers—and they were full of something deep and unspoken. John studied her face as if he were memorizing it, as if part of him still couldn’t believe his baby girl was standing there. Without a word, he opened his arms and pulled her into a tight, protective hug. Branch stiffened—just for a second—then exhaled and melted into the embrace, her shoulders easing as she buried her face in John's chest.

“Welcome home, my little bluebell,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion.

The way he said it—so full of love, so full of relief—made Branch's chest tighten. Her sapphire eyes stung. It was so easy to feel safe with JD. So easy to let the mask slip when her dad held her like that.

“I’m home,” Branch whispered, closing her eyes as she held on. And for a moment, nothing else mattered—only the arms around her, the warmth of family, and the quiet reassurance that no matter how far she strayed, this would always be her place.

John pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, one hand rising to gently cradle her cheek. His thumb brushed softly beneath her eye, not wiping a tear—just grounding her.

“Are you okay?”

Branch met his gaze, searching for the strength to reassure him. After a pause, she offered a small, uneven smile. “I will be.”

John nodded, his expression full of quiet understanding. He gave her head a gentle pat—the kind that said more than words ever could. “I'm really glad you're back, Bluebell.”

Before the moment could deepen into something heavier, Brandy clapped her hands dramatically, stepping in with a teasing grin. “Okay, okay—now that you’ve made her cry, can we finally show her the surprise?”

Branch let out a breathy laugh, sniffing quietly as she wiped at the corner of her eye.

“Come on!” Rainy exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement.

The children's hands grabbed hers from all sides, tugging Branch down the hall with joyful urgency.

Floyd and Clay lingered behind, sharing a glance with John and Bruce. None of them said a word, but in that glance was a shared understanding: the future wedding was weighing heavily on their baby sister. They didn’t need to press—she’d talk when she was ready. For now, Branch was home, and that was enough.

Meanwhile, Branch let the kids guide her, her steps quickening to match their energy. Their laughter echoed through the halls, infectious and light. With each tug of her hand, she felt something fragile inside her begin to mend.

They stopped in front of a large curtain, barely able to contain their excitement.

“Okay, okay, close your eyes, Auntie Branch!” Cove begged, bouncing in place.

Branch raised an eyebrow playfully but obliged, covering her eyes. “Alright, I’m trusting you...”

“On the count of three!” Bruce Jr. instructed, voice filled with dramatic flair. “One... two... three!”

The curtain was yanked open with triumphant squeals. Branch opened her eyes—and her breath caught.

A giant wall stood before her, covered in photographs—memories lovingly frozen in time. Childhood snapshots, silly moments with her brothers, birthday parties, quiet afternoons with her niblings...all arranged with care. In the very center, scrawled in glitter and crayon on a handmade banner: “We missed you, Auntie Branch. Welcome home.”

For a long moment, Branch said nothing. Her throat tightened as she took it all in, eyes moving from photo to photo, her heart swelling and aching all at once.

“We made it just for you,” Freddy whispered, suddenly shy.

Branch knelt down slowly and gathered them all into her arms. “I don’t deserve you,” she whispered, her voice catching.

“You do,” Windy said confidently, hugging her tighter. “We love you so much, Auntie.”

Branch closed her eyes, holding onto them like they were the only thing keeping her upright. “I love you more than anything,” she murmured. And in that moment, surrounded by their little arms and big hearts, it didn’t matter how broken she felt. They were her home.

Floyd, Clay, and the others watched the scene from the doorway, quiet smiles resting on their faces.

John crossed his arms, his shoulders finally easing. “I think that was exactly what she needed.”

Brandy nodded, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “Nothing like a little family love to remind you you’re never really alone.”

Branch didn’t say anything, but her chest ached with gratitude—the kind that ran so deep, words would only cheapen it.

After the surprise, she lingered with her niblings, letting their voices, their laughter, and their constant questions wrap around her like a soft blanket. For a while, Branch managed to keep up—laughing, teasing, listening intently to their chaotic storytelling.

But Brandy saw it first: the way Branch’s energy slowly ebbed, like a tide retreating after a storm. Her smile dimmed, her eyes grew distant. And when she finally slipped quietly from the room, Brandy gave her a head start before following.

Branch didn’t stop until she reached her bedroom, stepping out onto the balcony. The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of earth and blossoms. She hugged her arms around herself as her eyes wandered across the softly lit garden, her thoughts louder than the world around her.

Brandy leaned in the doorway, her voice gentle but wry. “Knew you’d ghost eventually.”

Branch turned slightly, caught in the act, and gave a tired half-smile. “I wasn’t ghosting. Just needed some air… and a moment to breathe.”

Brandy crossed the room and leaned against the railing beside her, matching her quiet. “Do you want to be alone?”

To her surprise, Branch shook her head. “No… Actually, I’m really glad you came.”

Brandy arched a brow but didn’t press, letting the silence stretch naturally between them. Branch hesitated, her fingers fidgeting at the hem of her sleeve. She bit her lip, debating—then met Brandy’s eyes, and something in her just gave out. The wall cracked. Her voice came soft, almost pleading.

“I want to tell you everything… I do. But I need you to promise you won’t tell anyone. Not even Bruce. This has to stay between us.”

Brandy let out a slow breath, her expression softening. Without a word, she held out her pinky. “Pinky promise.”

Branch hooked her pinky around Brandy’s, clutching it like it was the last thing keeping her together. Her shoulders trembled—barely, but enough for Brandy to notice. And that was all it took. Branch didn’t cry easily. When she did, it meant she was unraveling. Without hesitation, Brandy pulled her into a firm, protective embrace, holding her like someone trying to shield a flickering flame from the wind.

“Tell me what you need from me,” Brandy whispered into her hair. “Whatever it is—I’m here.”

Branch’s breath hitched. Her hands gripped the back of Brandy’s shirt like she was afraid to let go. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if by doing so, she could keep the tears from slipping through.

“Just…” Her voice broke, fragile and raw. “Just tell me I’m not a terrible person for feeling this.”

Brandy leaned back slightly, brows knitting with worry. “Why would you ever think that?”

A quiet, trembling sob escaped before Branch could stop it. “Because… because I love him.”

Brandy felt her chest tighten painfully. “Who, Branchie?”

Branch looked up, her sapphire eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. There was desperation in them—like she was begging to be understood without having to speak the truth out loud. But then, in a voice so soft it barely existed, she whispered, “Him. The one I was never supposed to fall for.”

Something in Brandy cracked.

In that moment, Branch told Brandy everything—everything except using Brandy's name instead of her own. Her voice trembled as she recounted the festival—the warm lights, the music, the laughter—and the clumsy guy who’d spilled her drink and apologized with the kind of smile that made her forget why she was upset in the first place. Branch described how his awkward sincerity had caught her off guard, how his presence had slipped past the walls she’d built so carefully.

Then came the memories she could barely speak aloud.

Branch spoke of the short-lived romance that danced between stolen songs and whispered dreams, the secret glances in the crowd, the way it felt to laugh without holding back, to feel seen, to feel wanted—not as someone’s sister or daughter, but simply as Branch. She told Brandy how she’d let herself believe, even for a second, that she could have that kind of joy. That kind of love.  And then, Branch spoke of the goodbye. Of how she walked away, and how he didn't stop her—because they both knew they could never keep each other. Because it wasn’t supposed to happen. Because she wasn’t supposed to want it.

Her voice faded into silence, her story unraveling like thread, until there was nothing left but the raw ache sitting between them.

Brandy didn’t speak right away. She didn’t need to. She just stayed there, holding the silence gently, letting Branch breathe, letting her feel.Then, gently, she reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair from Branch’s tear-streaked face.

“The heart doesn’t care about rules, or expectations, or what we’re told is right,” she said softly. “It just… loves.”

Branch let out a bitter, broken laugh. “And look what it’s cost me.”

Brandy shook her head gently and took Branch’s face in both hands, her thumbs brushing away the tear-tracks on her cheeks. Her voice was steady but full of emotion. “Look at me, darling. Really look at me.” She waited until their eyes met. “You are not a bad person for what you feel. You are not selfish. You are not weak. And you are certainly not guilty. The only thing you’ve done—maybe the bravest thing—is to be honest with yourself. And there’s nothing shameful in that.”

Branch’s lips trembled, her vision blurring once more. But this time, the tears weren’t born of sorrow—they came from that rare, quiet relief of finally being understood. She let out a shaky breath, her voice a mere whisper. “I can’t believe I’m getting married in three weeks... It feels so close, Brandy. Like time’s running out, and I’m not ready.”

Brandy squeezed her hand with quiet strength. “I know.”

Branch gave a broken chuckle, one that held no humor. “At least tell me something—anything—about my mysterious fiancé,” she murmured, her voice heavy with resignation, like someone asking for a final kindness before surrendering to fate.

Brandy hesitated only briefly. “I haven’t met him personally. Just his older sister—she’s kind, big-hearted, and honestly a whirlwind. The kind of person who walks into a room and fills it. Her name’s Viva.” Brandy laughed lightly, the memory softening her tone. “She spoke very highly of her brother.”

Branch nodded absently, still distant—until Brandy added softly, “Your fiancé’s name is Poppy Beaumont.”

The words hit like a thunderclap.

Branch stiffened, the color draining from her face. She pulled back, eyes wide in disbelief. “Poppy?”

Brandy blinked at her, taken aback. “Yes. Why?”

A strangled laugh escaped Branch—dry, hollow, wounded. She pressed her palms to her face as if trying to hold herself together. “That’s the name of the guy I met at the festival…” Her voice cracked. “The one I told you about.”

Brandy’s brows furrowed. “Wait… Poppy? That’s... that’s quite a coincidence, isn’t it?”

“No,” Branch whispered, shaking her head in dread. “No, it’s not a coincidence. It’s punishment.” Her breath hitched as panic flooded her chest, her words tumbling out in desperation. “What am I supposed to do, Brandy? How do I marry someone who shares the same name as the only person I’ve ever truly loved? How do I live with that name echoing in my home, on paper, in every whispered vow? This isn’t irony—it’s a cruel joke.”

Brandy reached out instinctively, but Branch stepped away, crumbling beneath the weight of it all.

“I thought I could bury those feelings,” she said, her voice barely audible, “but now they’re going to haunt me for the rest of my life. Every time I hear his name... I’ll remember the version of me that was happy. Free. Alive. And now? Now I’ll live as a shadow of her… with a stranger whose name already owns my heart.”

Brandy said nothing for a moment. She simply watched her sister-in-law, her own heart aching at the weight Branch carried. Finally, she sighed softly.

“You can’t keep punishing yourself for something your heart couldn’t control. What you felt at that festival—it was real. And it mattered. It still matters. But now... now you have to find a way to face what's ahead—with courage, not guilt.”

Branch stared blankly at the floor, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

Brandy gently reached over and took her hand, squeezing it with quiet determination. “You’re stronger than you know, Branchie. Even when you don’t feel it, even when it hurts like hell—you endure. And you don’t have to go through this alone. I’m right here. Always.”

For the first time all day, Branch felt something loosen in her chest. She inhaled slowly, as if the air was finally starting to reach her lungs again.

“Could you help my brothers at the business tomorrow? I... I’d like to spend the day with the kids. I think I need their energy. Their laughter. Just something... light. Something that reminds me that the world can still feel kind.”

Brandy smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “Of course. And you are their favorite aunt, you know.”

A small laugh bubbled out of Branch—uneven, raw, but real. She let herself lean into Brandy’s embrace, closing her eyes for a moment, as if to hold onto that fleeting sense of comfort. Maybe the future was a storm waiting on the horizon. Maybe fate wasn’t finished testing her.

But for now, she had this moment. And she wasn’t facing it alone.

Chapter Text

Poppy glanced at himself one last time in the passenger mirror, checking that his face wasn’t puffy and his eyes weren’t red. The last thing he wanted was to raise suspicions with his family.

“I already told you, you look fine,” Smidge said, her tone laced with impatience.

“Sorry, I just need to be sure. The last thing I need is Viva asking questions,” Poppy muttered, letting out a quiet sigh.

Smidge paused, then asked, “So... are you serious? About Branch and Brandy?”

“Very serious.”

She sighed again but didn’t press further. Time was running out—for both of them. At least for now because with a click of the remote, the garage door of Beaumont Manor began to rise, revealing exactly what Poppy had expected: Viva, waiting, arms crossed and leaning casually against the doorframe of the mansion.

As soon as the car came to a stop, Viva rushed over and flung open the passenger door, pulling her younger brother into a tight embrace. Poppy melted into it, the warmth of home washing over him. But even as he held her, the guilt clung to his thoughts—he was planning something behind his sister’s and father’s backs.

“I missed you guys so much! The house felt way too quiet without you,” Viva said, squeezing him tighter.

“Veevs, I can’t breathe,” Poppy teased, giving a breathless chuckle.

Smidge watched them from beside the car, a soft smile on her lips. When Viva finally pulled away from Poppy, she turned and gave Smidge a hug too.

“I missed you too, Viva,” Smidge said, returning the embrace.

Once they let go, Viva turned back to her brother, her expression sobering.

“Dad wants to talk to you—he’s waiting in his office,” she said, stepping closer and handing him a manila folder. “Here’s the report.”

Poppy sighed. Of course, his father couldn’t wait even a day to pull him back into reality. “In that case, I’ll go see him now,” he said, his voice low but steady.

Smidge grimaced as she watched Poppy walk away, the sound of his fading footsteps echoing in her ears. She hadn’t realized she was alone with Viva until the latter’s voice broke the silence.

“So… how was the festival?”

“It was... incredible,” Smidge replied, her tone vague and guarded. Instinctively, she searched for a way out before the questions started piling up. “I’ll tell you more when Poppy’s around, but right now I really need to talk to Milton. If you’ll excuse me, I’m heading to your brother’s room.”

Viva arched an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at her lips. “At this point, it’s basically your room too.”

Smidge gave a faint smile. “Maybe you’re right,” she murmured before slipping past her and into the mansion, her pace quickening down the familiar hallway.

Meanwhile, Poppy moved through the corridors of Beaumont Manor, the marble floors cool beneath his feet and the opulence around him doing little to steady his nerves. Each step echoed like a countdown, bringing him closer to a conversation he’d been dreading since the moment he arrived. He paused outside the office door, took a deep breath, and knocked. A few seconds passed before a curt voice answered, “Come in.”

Inside, Peppy Beaumont stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, posture rigid and composed. The sight alone made Poppy feel like a little boy again—trapped in a beautiful cage, expected to perform.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Peppy said, not turning around. His voice, as always, was firm and void of warmth.

“Thank you, Father,” Poppy replied, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

Peppy finally turned to face him, his gaze sharp and assessing. “I trust you made good use of your time at the festival. Do you have the report?”

Poppy stepped forward and placed the folder on the desk, offering a thin, practiced smile. “Yes, sir. Here it is.”

Peppy picked up the document and flipped through the pages. His lips twitched—just slightly, almost imperceptibly—into what might have been approval.

“Good,” he said. “Now sit. We need to talk seriously.”

Poppy’s stomach twisted. He pulled out the chair across from his father and sat, his fingers curling tightly around the armrests as Peppy took his seat and fixed him with a stare that made it hard to breathe.

“I’ve decided it’s time for you to fulfill your responsibilities. You’ll be marrying Miss Chordwell in three weeks.”

Poppy stared, frozen. “What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Peppy said, his tone clipped. “You heard me. And that’s not all—her brother, John Dory, thinks it’s wise for you two to become acquainted before the wedding. You’ll visit her tomorrow. There are no lessons scheduled, so report to my office first thing in the morning. I’ll give you the details then. Now go rest—you must be tired from the trip.”

Poppy didn’t move. His body felt rooted to the floor, his mind swinging between disbelief and fury. But he knew better than to argue. Not with that voice. Not with that expression. With clenched teeth and a stiff posture, Poppy rose silently, walked to the door, and closed it behind him with a quiet click.

But quiet didn’t mean calm.

The pressure in his chest only worsened, like a vice tightening with each breath. His steps—usually confident, even graceful—now dragged with invisible weight.

Three weeks.

It couldn’t be real. It had to be some cruel bluff. But his father’s eyes held no trace of jest. Just cold, calculating purpose.

Poppy could barely recognize the man who raised him. Peppy Beaumont had once cared about happiness, or at least pretended well enough. Now, he was all deals and deadlines. And without so much as a day to breathe at home, Poppy had already been bartered away like a bargaining chip. Another asset in the Beaumont portfolio.

As he rounded the corner toward his room, he nearly collided with Viva. She studied his face, her expression shifting.

“You okay?”

He forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. The usual.”

Viva crossed her arms, unconvinced. “Poppy. Talk to me.”

“Veevs, I’m fine, really.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek quickly before brushing past, not daring to stop.If he did, he might unravel completely.

When Poppy reached his room, he pushed the door open without bothering to be quiet.Smidge was on a video call with Milton, who immediately brightened at the sight of him.

“Hey, there he is!” Milton greeted cheerfully.

But Smidge didn’t return the same energy. Her smile faltered the moment she saw Poppy’s face—his tight jaw, his stiff posture. Something was wrong.

“What happened?” she asked softly, her voice lowering instinctively as if bracing for something serious.

Poppy shut the door behind him, walked past them without a word, and dropped onto the bed. He stared at the ceiling, motionless, as though grounding himself before saying anything.

Finally, Poppy spoke. “I’m getting married in three weeks.” His voice was low. Controlled. But barely.

The silence that followed was thick—almost suffocating. Smidge blinked, waiting for the punchline. Milton leaned forward on the screen, confused.

Nothing came.

Then, “What?!” Smidge and Milton shouted, their voices bouncing off the walls.

“My father’s decision,” Poppy said, hollowly. “It’s done.”

Smidge shot to her feet. “Wait—what? Just like that? Out of nowhere?”

“When has he ever not been dramatic?” Poppy muttered, attempting sarcasm, but it came out more like exhaustion.

Milton held up a hand through the screen, trying to cut through the chaos. “Okay, okay, let’s take a breath here.” He turned his attention back to Poppy. “Smidge was just telling me how you promised not to marry Branch because you'll try to find Brandy. You said you'd never let anyone force you into marrying someone you don't love. So... does your dad snapping his fingers suddenly change that?”

Poppy closed his eyes, letting the memories rush in like a tide.

The festival.

His first breath of freedom in what felt like forever. His first glimpse of a life beyond expectations, beyond that suffocating mansion. His first taste of choice. Of hope.

And Brandy.

The thought of her hit like a punch to the chest. The way she laughed. The way she looked at him—not like some rich guy, not like a duty, but like a real person. Someone worth knowing. And now? His father expected him to forget all of it. To toss aside everything that made him feel alive... for a stranger.

No.

Not a chance.

Poppy’s eyes snapped open. He sat up abruptly, a fire in his chest he hadn’t felt before. “No,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m not letting this happen. If there’s even the slightest chance to stop it, I’ll take it.”

Milton grinned from the screen. “Then count on us.”

Poppy blinked, surprised—but the shock quickly melted into a smile full of warmth and gratitude.

Smidge, however, narrowed her eyes at her phone. “Excuse me?”

“What?” Milton replied, too casually. “Sure, what he’s planning is reckless—but it’s for love. Real love. Be honest, Smidge, if it were us... wouldn’t you do the same to be with me? Because I would.”

Smidge tried to glare, but her smile broke through. “Okay, that was smooth.” She softened, then added, “You’re right. I’d do anything to be with the love of my life. I love you, Milton.”

“And I love you. But right now? Our boy needs backup.” Milton turned his attention back to Poppy, who was already deep in thought.

Smidge leaned closer. “So? What’s the move?”

Poppy exhaled slowly, mind racing. “First, I talk to Branch. If we both say no to this marriage, maybe—just maybe—they’ll listen. And after that... I find Brandy. And I fight for her. For us.”

Smidge squinted at Poppy, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “So, what’s the plan? Infiltrate your father’s office, dig up some dirt on Branch, find her, and stage a dramatic cancellation of the wedding?”

Milton sighed, rubbing his temple. “I usually draw the line at privacy invasion, but... honestly? I’m not ruling it out.”

Poppy raised both hands, trying to stop the ideas from snowballing. “Whoa, let’s not start a revolution—yet. I’m supposed to visit her tomorrow. My father will tell me where in the morning.”

Smidge crossed her arms, her gaze sharp. “And when you do? What’s the goal?”

Poppy leaned forward, elbows on knees, dragging his hands down his face. “I don’t know. I need to see who she is, what she thinks. If Branch hates this as much as I do, maybe we can work together to shut it down.”

Milton nodded thoughtfully. “Smart. Team up if possible. But if she’s actually okay with the wedding—”

“Then we go to Plan B,” Smidge cut in, far too casually.

Both boys turned to her with matching raised eyebrows. “Plan B?” they echoed.

Smidge’s grin widened. “Kidnap Poppy and disappear him until the wedding window closes. Boom. Problem solved.”

Poppy blinked. Milton looked mildly horrified.

“…I’m joking,” she added, but her tone was a little too gleeful.

Poppy let out a tired laugh, shaking his head. “If it comes to that, I’ll let you know.”

“Great. Just say the word. I’ve got a car, snacks, and a playlist for dramatic escapes.” She winked.

Poppy smiled, feeling the anxiety melt away. The future didn’t feel entirely hopeless. He wasn’t alone.

Poppy let out a sigh and leaned back against the headboard. “Well, we have to thank John Dory Chordwell for saving us from having to infiltrate my father's office.”

“John Dory Chordwell?” Smidge repeated, eyebrows raised.

Poppy nodded. “Yeah. Branch’s older brother. According to my dad, he suggested that Branch and I meet before the wedding.”

“Wait—hold on.” Milton’s eyes widened. “Your fiancée is Branch Chordwell?”

Both Poppy and Smidge turned to him, puzzled.

“Yeah… didn’t Smidge tell you?” Poppy asked.

“I did!” Smidge defended. “I told you her name was Branch.”

“You said Branch, yes,” Milton countered. “You didn’t say the Branch. The youngest Chordwell. That’s kind of a big deal!”

Smidge waved a hand dismissively. “Details.”

Milton shot her a look. “That’s not just a detail—it changes everything.”

Poppy tilted his head, intrigued. “Why? What do you know about her?”

“Not a ton personally,” Milton admitted. “But I know she’s the youngest of five. And thanks to your dad, the Chordwells are booming. Their company, Brozone & Sis Beats, is building one of the biggest musical instrument empires in the country.”

“Brozone & Sis Beats...” Smidge murmured, suddenly squinting at her phone. “Oh. Ohhh. Sorry, love. Keep going.”

Milton chuckled. “Anyway. Rumor is, the Chordwell siblings—John, Bruce, Clay, Floyd, and Branch—are all prodigies in the music world. If even one of them sees talent in you, they can open doors. Big ones. Superstar-level doors.”

Poppy blinked, taking it all in. “Wow,” he whispered, the weight of it settling on him. “So she’s not just some random girl.”

“Nope,” Milton said. “She’s basically music royalty.”

“I knew that name sounded familiar!” Smidge suddenly blurted, eyes lighting up. “The booth where Brandy was working at the festival—it had the Brozone & Sis Beats logo!”

Poppy froze, the air catching in his throat. “Wait… are you saying Brandy works for the Chordwells?”

Smidge nodded, excitement bubbling. “It’s possible. Think about it—it makes sense!”

Milton, ever the skeptic, crossed his arms. “Or… she was just hired for the event. Doesn’t mean she’s in with the family.”

The room went quiet for a moment, the weight of the uncertainty settling in—until Smidge suddenly snapped her fingers, a grin spreading across her face.

“Brandy introduced me to Floyd and Clay!” she said, triumphantly. “It was super quick, and I even complained about it. Brandy told me they’re protective of her.”

Milton’s expression shifted as the pieces clicked into place. “Yeah… no one’s that protective over a random temp worker. If Floyd and Clay are watching out for her, then Brandy’s more than just staff. She’s someone important to them.”

Poppy’s heart pounded. If Brandy had ties to the Chordwells, this wasn’t just complicated—it was a game changer. He ran both hands over his face, trying to steady the swirl of thoughts.

“If Branch and Brandy know each other… I have to find out.”

Smidge stepped forward, voice firm and eyes sharp. “You’re not just trying to stop a wedding anymore,” she said, pointing at him. “You need to find out what Branch knows about Brandy.”

Poppy nodded slowly, absorbing the weight of it. “I know,” he said, almost to himself.

Milton grinned, nudging the mood just enough to lift it. “So tomorrow, not only are you meeting your future wife—”

“—you might be one step closer to your real one,” Smidge finished with a smirk. “Brandy Everhart,” she added, her smile full of quiet confidence, as if they were already halfway to victory.

“This… this changes everything,” Poppy murmured, lifting his gaze to Smidge and Milton.

Smidge gave him a reassuring smile. “Maybe. But don’t worry—I’ve already got a few ideas brewing. Tomorrow, when you meet Branch, you need to be charming and sharp. We’re after answers, and you’re the only one who can get them.”

Milton nodded in agreement. “Exactly. And we’ll be ready to back you up, whatever happens. Just remember—this isn’t only about stopping a wedding. This is about Brandy. Don’t lose sight of that.”

A knot tightened in Poppy’s stomach. Milton was right. The pressure felt crushing—but it also lit a fire inside him.

“I know,” he said, his voice steadier than he expected. “I’m not going to let my father—or anyone else—decide my life. Brandy… she’s different. And if there’s even the slightest chance this could work, I have to fight for it.”

Smidge stepped closer, giving his shoulder a confident pat. “That’s the spirit. Now get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a big one.”

Milton yawned, stretching his arms. “Yeah. And whatever comes, we’ve got your back. So relax, man. Tomorrow everything starts to move.”

Poppy smiled, grateful for them. With Smidge and Milton beside him, maybe—just maybe—he could pull this off.

After saying goodbye to Milton, Poppy left his room, giving Smidge a moment alone with her boyfriend. When Poppy returned, Smidge was already there, in pajamas, ready to turn off the lights like it was any other night. He dropped onto the bed with a quiet thud, eyes fixed on the ceiling. His mind refused to settle—Brandy, Branch, the wedding, his father... it all spun in a tangled storm. But for the first time in days, he felt like he wasn’t drowning. He had a sliver of a plan. A direction.

Poppy closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “Brandy,” he whispered, her name grounding him. “I don’t know how… but I will find you.”

And with that quiet promise, Poppy braced himself for what was bound to be one of the most important days of his life.

Chapter Text

John looked toward the store entrance when the bell chimed, his smile widening as he spotted his younger brothers walking in.

“Good night,” Bruce said in a mock-serious tone, drawing a laugh from John.

Clay raised an eyebrow and checked his watch. “Shut up. You should be congratulating me for showing up at all. I could’ve just called one of the crew to cover for me and slept in. And for the record, I’m on time. If you two felt like playing early birds, that’s on you.” He rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Why’d you open early, anyway?” Floyd asked, standing beside him.

“Because we’re responsible adults,” Bruce answered without missing a beat.

John chuckled and shook his head, a grin still on his face. “Honestly, I think we’re just used to the new routine. Brandy and Branch’s sister-in-law-to-be are in the back office, planning the wedding.”

Bruce nodded. “We were with them, but we checked the time and figured we might as well open up early.”

Floyd and Clay exchanged a look before nodding.

“Is my sapphire back there too?” Floyd asked, frowning. “Didn’t think she’d be in the mood for wedding stuff.”

“Nope, Branch isn’t with them,” John said.

Clay frowned. “We didn’t see her when we left the house.”

“That’s because she offered to babysit my kids,” Bruce said casually.

Clay blinked, then burst out laughing. “Branch? Volunteering to watch your gremlins?”

“Yes,” Bruce said, folding his arms. “And it’s not that weird. She’s got great instincts with them. Favorite aunt, remember? They adore her.”

Floyd leaned casually on the counter, raising an eyebrow at his brother. “And are we sure Branch volunteered to babysit just because she loves spending time with her niblings?”

Bruce frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Floyd shrugged, his tone nonchalant. “I don’t know. Maybe watching your kids is just her way of keeping busy—of avoiding thinking too much about a wedding she’s clearly not thrilled to be part of.”

Clay grimaced. “And knowing Branch, she won’t open up until she's ready. If ever.”

John let out a quiet sigh. “Then we need to keep a closer eye on her. Make sure our baby girl knows we’ve got her back—even if she’s pretending everything’s fine. But for now, let’s stop loitering before customers walk in and find us standing around like a bunch of gossiping old ladies.”

The brothers exchanged nods and went back to their stations, though the air still buzzed with unspoken concern. Silence returned—brief, uneasy—until the back office door creaked open a few minutes later.

Viva stepped out, her arms full of stacked folders while her other hand scrolled quickly through her phone. Her blond hair bounced as she moved, completely focused on balancing the chaos in her hands.

John quickly crossed the space to hold the entrance door open before disaster struck.

“See you later, Viva,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting.

“Bye, JD!” Viva called back with a fleeting grin. “Bye, Bruce!” she added, not even glancing his way before slipping out the door.

Floyd's eyes followed Viva briefly, but quickly shifted to Clay, who hadn't moved a muscle. He didn’t need to say a word. Clay’s expression said it all: eyes soft, lips tugged into an absent smile, totally unaware he’d just been caught staring.

Bruce, ever ready to stir the pot, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “Need a glass of water, Clay? All that drooling might leave you dehydrated.”

John smothered a laugh, and Floyd rolled his eyes just as Clay blinked back to reality.

“What? Shut up,” he muttered, clearly flustered.

John gave him a sympathetic pat on the back. “Little brother, if you’re gonna stare at Viva like she’s the last drop of water in a desert, at least try to be subtle.”

Clay groaned, folding his arms. “You guys are impossible.”

The blush creeping up his neck only fueled their laughter.

Floyd leaned on the counter, arms crossed, wearing a grin that spelled trouble. “Be honest—since when do you care about anything that isn’t bound in hardcover?”

Clay glanced away, trying for nonchalance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Floyd pressed on. “At the festival, you said books were your perfect date. But the way you looked at Viva…” He gave a mock gasp. “Could it be she’s the one who’ll finally dethrone your literary queens?”

John clicked his tongue. “If you looked at your job with half the passion you just showed Viva, we’d have your picture on the wall by now.”

Floyd chuckled, though he made an effort to sound sincere. “Liking someone isn’t a crime, Clay. Freezing like a statue? That’s the part we’re worried about.”

Bruce grinned. “It’s not like you saw a divine miracle. Or did you?”

Clay rolled his eyes, clearly losing patience. “I’m not drooling over Viva Beaumont or whatever. I was just… surprised to see her so…” He paused, searching for a word.

“Charming?” Floyd offered with a teasing smile.

“Chaotic,” Clay snapped, then added after a beat, “But efficient. At the same time.”

Bruce raised a skeptical brow, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Uh-huh. Because obviously, the first thing you think when you see someone for the first time is, ‘Wow, they look so chaotic… yet remarkably efficient!’”

Floyd burst out laughing and turned to John. “You know, maybe Clay is the secret weapon to get our sapphire out of her engagement.”

John blinked, caught off guard—but then his expression turned thoughtful. “You know, that’s not the worst idea. Maybe we should ask Viva how she feels about marrying Clay.”

Clay straightened up like he’d been electrocuted. “Don’t you dare.”

Bruce smirked. “Oof. You really made it worse, man. If you had nothing to hide, you wouldn’t be panicking right now.”

Clay groaned and dragged a hand through his hair. “Can you all just drop it, please?”

Floyd clapped him on the back, his signature grin in full force. “Sure, sure. But just so you know—this is far from over.”

Bruce and John nodded in agreement, amusement dancing in their eyes as Clay muttered under his breath and turned toward the guitars. He busied himself pretending to tune them, keeping his back to his brothers. But as his fingers worked over the strings, his thoughts betrayed him. He pictured her again—Viva’s wild blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, that carefree smile that lit up the room without even trying. And despite himself… Clay smiled. Maybe his brothers weren’t completely wrong after all.

Just then, Brandy stepped out of the office, arching an eyebrow at the mischievous grins on the brothers’ faces—and at Clay, tucked in the corner pretending to be deeply absorbed in tuning a guitar.

“Did I miss something?” she asked, hands settling on her hips.

“No, love. Not a thing,” Bruce replied smoothly, though his tone practically dripped with concealed mischief.

The others chuckled—except Clay, who kept his eyes on the strings—prompting Brandy to narrow her gaze suspiciously. When no one volunteered an explanation, she sighed and shook her head with a knowing smirk.

“Well, if you're going to be secretive, I won’t be the one to drag it out of you. Just remember—this store’s a no-nonsense zone.”

“Nonsense, us?” John asked, placing a hand over his heart like a wounded saint. “Perish the thought.”

Bruce nodded solemnly. “We are the picture of professionalism.”

Floyd grinned, arms crossed, the very image of unapologetic smugness.

Clay muttered without looking up, “Nonsense is gossiping like schoolkids when there are customers to attend to.”

“Oh, would you listen to him!” John laughed, pointing with exaggerated delight. “The same guy who was drooling over Viva Beaumont like a love-struck puppy is suddenly the voice of responsibility!”

“I wasn’t drooling!” Clay snapped, though the redness creeping up his neck said otherwise.

Brandy exhaled, her expression softening. “As long as John Dory doesn’t dig up another contract to marry off one of you, I think we’ll survive.”

“No weddings,” Clay said firmly, eyes flicking up with a warning glare.

Floyd stepped closer and gave Clay’s shoulder a playful nudge. “Relax, brother. You know we only mess with you because we care.”

“And because it’s fun,” Bruce added, ever the instigator.

Clay huffed, though a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Hilarious. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got guitars to tune.”

“Sure, sure,” John said, raising both hands in mock surrender. “We wouldn’t dare interrupt your... what was it again? ‘Chaotic but efficient’ inspiration?”

From the sidelines, Brandy watched them with a fond smile. “This family never changes,” she murmured to herself.

And with that, the shop returned to its usual rhythm—lighthearted banter, gentle teasing, and the promise that Viva’s name would definitely come up again. But for now, Clay could breathe... or at least pretend to, while the strum of guitar strings mixed with the familiar buzz of family and music.

*************************

After having breakfast with Smidge and promising to keep her updated on everything, Poppy finally made his way to his father’s office. Outwardly, he walked with composure, but inside, his thoughts were in chaos. The looming encounter with his fiancée, Branch, played on a loop in his mind—competing with another image he couldn’t seem to shake: Brandy.

When Poppy reached the office door, he paused, exhaled deeply, and instinctively straightened his shirt before gripping the doorknob.

“Good morning, Father.”

Peppy Beaumont looked up from a spread of documents, brows lifting. “Poppy. I was about to send Viva to fetch you. I hope you’re not planning to make sleeping in a habit.”

Poppy held back a sigh. “It won’t happen again. I was just worn out from the trip.”

“I assumed as much. But let’s not waste time on excuses—we’ve more important matters to address.”

Poppy didn’t need him to say it. “Branch,” he answered, though another name echoed louder in his head: Brandy.

“Exactly!” Peppy said, his stern face softening into a satisfied smile. “She should be at the main store of her family’s business—BroZone & Sis Beats. You’ll go there, introduce yourself properly to her and her brothers, and I expect you to behave like the gentleman I raised. We can’t afford a poor impression on the Chordwell family.”

Poppy nodded, his smile practiced. “Of course, Father. You don’t need to worry.”

Peppy studied him for a beat, his gaze sharp. “Good. I hope I don’t have to.”

Poppy felt a knot tightening in his stomach—a quiet, relentless pressure that pulsed with every heartbeat. He ignored it. Now wasn’t the time to question anything. His path was set. Still, deep down, a fragile spark of hope clung to one idea: maybe Branch would reject the marriage too. If she felt the same, if they stood on the same side… then maybe, just maybe, he’d have a real chance.

A chance at the only person he truly wanted.

Brandy.

The mere thought of her name sent a ripple through his chest—a tangle of longing and unease. Poppy rose from his seat with forced composure, shoulders square, posture calm. But before he could reach the door, his father’s firm voice halted him.

“Poppy. One last thing.”

He turned, brow furrowing slightly. Peppy was holding a large bouquet—roses and tulips, arranged with deliberate elegance.

“For your fiancée,” Peppy said, his expression approving. “It’ll help you make a good impression. Maybe even win her over.”

Poppy stepped forward and took the bouquet with care, mindful not to crush the petals—or let the strain on his face show.

“Thank you, Father.”

Peppy gave a sharp nod. “We’ll also need to begin planning the proposal. Something memorable. Something worthy of your future wife. But we’ll talk about that later. For now, go. Represent the Beaumont name with pride.”

“Yes, Father.”

The words left him by reflex, hollow and mechanical. The moment the door shut behind him, his mask crumbled. Poppy exhaled a slow, heavy breath, the pressure in his chest pressing tighter, harder.

What will Branch be like in person? Will she be my ally in escaping this marriage… or just another voice agreeing to this absurd fate?

Poppy had no idea what to expect. Milton had told him things about Branch but no words could prepare him for the reality of meeting her.

The bouquet felt heavy in his hands. Not because of its size, but because of everything it symbolized: a forced commitment, an obligation dressed up as diplomacy and alliances. His footsteps echoed against the marble floor as he approached the mansion’s exit.

"I need Branch on my side. This needs to end before it even begins."

But determination could only hold so long before memory crept in. And in his mind, one image flared—vivid, insistent.

A pair of sapphire eyes.

A crooked, challenging smile.

Brandy.

His jaw tightened.

He needed focus.

He needed to convince Branch.

More than anything, Poppy needed to stop letting himself dream of something that still felt just out of reach.

His hand was already on the doorknob to the garage when a familiar voice called out.

“Poppy! What’s with the bouquet? Where are you going?” Viva asked, her tone light but curious, her eyes locked onto the flowers.

He turned, forcing a polite smile. “I’m heading to Brozone & Sis Beats. Dad wants me to introduce myself to the Chordwells and make a good impression on Branch and her family. This”—he lifted the bouquet slightly—“is for that.”

Viva’s eyebrows rose with interest. “So, you're going to the main store?”

“Yeah.”

“Perfect! Wait just a second. I need you to deliver something for me.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, Viva dashed upstairs. Poppy raised an eyebrow but didn’t think much of it. He entered the garage and carefully placed the bouquet in the passenger seat, adjusting it to keep the petals from bending.

Moments later, he heard Viva's footsteps again—quick, purposeful. She returned holding a folder and handed it to him with a bright smile.

“I forgot to give this to Brandy this morning. Since you’re heading there, could you ask for her and give it to her?”

The name hit him like a lightning strike.

“Brandy?”

Viva nodded, unfazed. “Yeah, that’s her name. Don’t stress if you forget it—JD and Bruce will know who you mean if you tell them I sent you. Thanks, Poppy, you’re the best!” She kissed his cheek and hurried off before he could say another word.

Poppy stood frozen, the folder in his hands, his thoughts racing.

Brandy… tied to the Chordwells. So it wasn’t just a passing connection or a coincidence—Viva had just confirmed it. His Brandy was part of the very world he was being pushed into.

A spark of hope lit in his chest, burning away the fog of uncertainty. He got into the car, casting a look at the bouquet resting beside him.

“Branch Chordwell,” he whispered, gripping the wheel, “I don’t know you yet, but I need you on my side.”

Poppy started the engine. Determination coursed through him now, stronger than before. If he could win Branch’s trust, gain her support…

Then maybe—just maybe—he could stop the engagement a nd finally fight for the love he truly wanted.

Chapter Text

After a while, once Clay was sure his brothers had relaxed and the youngest among them had let his guard down, he saw his chance to strike. It was time to get back at Floyd for what had happened with Viva.

“Hey,” he called out casually, drawing the attention of his brothers—and Brandy.

“What’s up, Clay?” she asked.

“Finally ready to confess your feelings for Viva?” Bruce chimed in with a mischievous grin, prompting chuckles from Floyd and John Dory.

“Bruce Chordwell!” Brandy scolded, giving him a nudge.

Clay rolled his eyes. “Actually, I just think it’s a little unfair that I’m the one getting teased, while no one’s said a word about someone else getting a boyfriend during the festival.”

Three heads snapped toward Floyd—John, Bruce, and Brandy—eyes wide, mouths agape. Floyd, suddenly pale, stared at Clay with a mix of disbelief and betrayal.

“He’s not my boyfriend yet!” Floyd blurted, clearly flustered under the weight of their stares.

“But you want him to be.” Clay smirked.

“Shut up, Clay!” Floyd snapped, folding his arms tightly.

“You didn’t deny it,” Clay said, clearly enjoying himself.

“Hold on,” Bruce interjected, blinking. “I need context. What just happened?”

“I second that,” John said, nodding.

“I live for love gossip,” Brandy added, grinning. “So, Floyd Chordwell, spill.”

Floyd sighed dramatically and looked skyward, as if begging for divine patience, before turning back to his eager audience.

“His name is Ablaze,” Floyd began, “and we’re still not officially anything. We’re seeing if a long-distance relationship can work before calling it serious—”

But Clay cut him off before he could finish. “Get ready for the lovesick look,” he teased. “It’s coming the second he starts gushing about his not-boyfriend.”

“Like the face you made when you saw Viva?” Floyd shot back, arms crossed and glare sharp.

“Ignore him,” Brandy said with a grin. “Come on, Floyd, give us the details. We need to know more about Ablaze.”

Floyd’s expression softened, a fondness flickering in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, ready to describe the redhead who had unexpectedly captured a piece of his heart—

Ding.

The entry bell chimed, slicing through the moment.

“Well,” Floyd said with a mischievous smirk, “seems like fate doesn’t want you to hear about him just yet.”

Groans of protest erupted.

Brandy sighed and made her way toward the back. “That’s my cue to get back to work. I’ll be in the storage room, doing inventory.”

The guys nodded and turned toward the front to greet the new customer. But JD froze in his tracks, eyes locked on the boy at the entrance—a young man with striking magenta hair and eyes, scanning the shop with open curiosity and the faintest hint of uncertainty.

Bruce, Clay, and Floyd noticed JD’s reaction and turned their eyes toward the door. Floyd and Clay exchanged confused glances, but Bruce’s eyes widened in recognition, matching JD’s stunned expression.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” JD muttered, before moving briskly to the counter.

“Who is he?” Floyd whispered, leaning toward Bruce.

Bruce gave them a look like they were missing something obvious. “You seriously don’t recognize him?”

Clay shrugged. “He looks familiar… but I can’t place where or why.”

Bruce exhaled, half in disbelief, half in resignation. “Guess we haven’t kept you in the loop lately.” He paused for effect, then dropped the bomb, “That’s Poppy Beaumont… our sister’s fiancé.”

Floyd and Clay’s eyes widened as they turned back to the boy—this time really looking at him.

Floyd squinted slightly. “Well… looks like my plan begins now.”

“What plan?” Clay asked, still trying to catch up.

Floyd smirked. “Let’s just say I once joked about sabotaging my sapphire’s engagement… Turns out, I might not have been entirely joking.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “I like where this is going.”

Clay blinked. “And how do you plan on pulling that off without JD murdering you?”

Floyd folded his arms, confidence radiating off him. “Easy. I’ll embarrass Poppy until he runs for the hills… or calls off the engagement himself.”

Bruce chuckled darkly. “I’ve got thirteen gremlins who would love to help make Auntie Branch happy—and it’d earn me major points in the ‘favorite brother’ contest.”

Clay stared at them, torn between amusement and horror. “You two genuinely scare me sometimes.”

Before Floyd could retort, JD’s voice cut through their scheming. “If you’re going to whisper like gossiping birds, at least wait until after you’ve helped the customer.”

All three jumped and scrambled behind the counter, trying to act natural. JD was already standing in front of the boy, who now regarded them with a faint, polite smile.

JD’s expression was unreadable, his voice cool and professional. “Welcome. How can I help you?”

The boy stepped forward, offering a hand. JD shook it firmly, but there was caution in his grip.

“I’m Poppy Beaumont. Branch’s fiancé. Nice to meet you…” He trailed off expectantly.

“John Dory Chordwell,” JD replied without missing a beat. “I’m your fiancée’s older brother.”

Before Poppy could respond, Bruce cut in with a smirk. “Actually, John’s more like her dad than her brother. I’m Bruce Chordwell—another of Branch’s many older brothers. And these two are Clay and Floyd.” He gestured toward the younger brothers, who stood with arms crossed, eyeing Poppy like bouncers sizing up a party crasher.

Poppy offered a friendly smile, completely unfazed. Compared to Smidge’s glare—capable of turning lava to ice—their attempt at intimidation was almost adorable.

“What do you want, Beaumont?” Floyd asked flatly.

JD shot him an elbow to the ribs.

Poppy blinked, as if momentarily thrown off, then recovered with that same composed smile. “I came to see Branch. If possible, I’d like to spend some time with her before the wedding.”

JD gave a nod, but Floyd stepped forward before he could reply.

“That’s fine—but for safety reasons, we’ll need to do a security check first.”

“A… security check?” Poppy repeated, lifting an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Like at the airport,” Floyd said seriously. “Please place your belongings on the counter. We need to make sure you’re not carrying anything dangerous.”

Clay and Bruce barely suppressed their laughter, hiding their grins behind forced coughs, while JD’s frown deepened.

“I hope you understand,” Floyd added, completely deadpan. “It’s protocol.”

Still puzzled, Poppy complied. He set the bouquet and the folder on the counter, then extended his arms, giving Floyd the go-ahead. The youngest Chordwell moved with the exaggerated professionalism of a TSA agent on a power trip.

While Floyd “inspected” him, JD’s gaze drifted to the items on the counter. His eyes lingered on the bouquet. It was obviously for Branch. And though he had orchestrated this whole engagement… something tightened in his chest.

That kid—smiling, polite, confident—was going to marry his little girl. JD had known it would happen one day, but that didn’t make it any easier. Branch was everything to him. Letting go… really letting her go… was harder than he expected. Especially now that the future had a name. And it was Poppy Beaumont.

“He’s clean,” Floyd announced with a shrug, snapping JD out of his thoughts.

“Of course I’m clean!” Poppy huffed, crossing his arms. “What exactly were you expecting to find?”

“One never knows,” Floyd replied with a smirk. “We’re not about to let anyone near the most important woman in our lives without a proper check.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” JD cut in firmly. “Poppy, you said you came to see Branch?”

“Yes,” he replied, gathering his things. “I brought her these flowers.”

Bruce eyed the bouquet and raised an unimpressed brow. “Roses and tulips? How original.”

Poppy chuckled. “Really? I’ll try harder next time—assuming I get a next time. First, I need to actually see my fiancée.”

“Well,” Clay said with a sly grin, “that might be a problem. She’s not here.”

Poppy blinked. “She’s not?”

“She’s at my place,” Bruce said with a casual shrug. “I can take you.”

“Why you?” JD snapped, crossing his arms. “Why not me?”

“Because she’s at my house, genius,” Bruce replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“So? She’s still my daughter,” JD shot back. “That gives me the right to go too.”

“Oh great, here we go,” Floyd muttered, rolling his eyes. “You two gonna fight over who gets to walk the prince to his princess?”

They both ignored him, still glaring.

Clay sighed. “I swear, if this keeps up, I’m calling Brandy.”

The name hit the room like a thunderclap.

Bruce and JD went dead quiet, exchanging a look of shared horror—as if the very mention might summon her with arms crossed and a lecture on standby. But for Poppy, that name struck a completely different chord. The moment it echoed in the air, his heart kicked into overdrive—like a drum beating out the rhythm of his dread.

Brandy… his Brandy.

Knowing she was nearby yet still unreachable sent a jolt through his chest—part longing, part panic. Her image flashed in his mind with painful clarity: jet-black hair like a midnight sky, wild in the wind; eyes like twin sapphires, at once piercing and distant, holding both the warmth of home and the chill of something forever out of reach. He missed her deeply, achingly—like a lost traveler glimpsing an oasis after days in the desert… terrified it might vanish on approach.

Poppy swallowed hard, forcing his voice steady. “Is Brandy here? Brandy Everhart?” he asked, aiming for casual but landing somewhere closer to desperate.

The Chordwell brothers froze, suspicion flickering in their eyes.

“It’s been years since anyone called her by that last name,” Bruce replied, cool and sharp. “Why are you looking for her?”

A shiver crawled down Poppy’s spine as he met Bruce’s stare—intense, unflinching, like he was peeling back layers of Poppy’s soul. In that moment, Poppy realized: Brandy wasn’t just someone they knew. She was family. And he wasn’t just an outsider asking too much—he was a threat to something sacred.

“V-Viva asked me to deliver this to her,” Poppy blurted, holding up the folder like it was a shield—or a lifeline.

Bruce stepped forward, hand outstretched. “I can take it. No need to worry.”

But Poppy hesitated. No—he couldn’t let someone else be the bridge. Not after all this time without Brandy. Without her voice. Without her smile. The ache in his chest wasn’t just longing—it was urgency, raw and unrelenting, like a storm that had finally found direction.

Poppy straightened. “My sister insisted I deliver it to Brandy personally.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, reading every word, every flicker in Poppy’s expression. But Poppy didn’t waver. His stare held steady, fueled by a quiet desperation. If he had to stand against every guardian in her life, he would. Because Brandy was more than someone he missed—she was the place his soul called home.

Clay, sighing at the tension, grabbed the walkie-talkie. “Brandy, can you come to the counter for a sec? Thanks. Maybe now everyone can chill.”

Minutes later, a tall, slender woman with striking red hair appeared, her smile curious but cautious.

“What’s going on?” she asked, eyes scanning the room.

“Someone’s here for you,” Bruce muttered, still glaring at Poppy—his voice tight with displeasure, especially at the fact that he’d dared call Brandy by her maiden name.

But Poppy barely registered Bruce’s hostility. Something colder, crueler had gripped him. This woman—this Everhart—was not his Brandy. She wasn’t the girl from the festival. Not the one with midnight hair that danced like shadows in moonlight. Not the one whose sapphire eyes had looked into his soul and left it in pieces. That Brandy had been wild and free and untouchable, like a song you hear once and never forget, a moment so intense it burned itself into your memory. That Brandy had changed him.

This Brandy was someone else. She wore a different smile. She had different eyes. It wasn’t her.

The realization crashed over Poppy like a frigid wave, extinguishing the fragile flame of hope he’d kept alive. For a breathless moment, the floor seemed to vanish beneath him, the air thick with disappointment. He’d imagined this moment countless times—her eyes meeting his, something clicking into place, fate rewarding his longing with clarity. But now, staring at her, Poppy saw the truth: fate wasn’t just fickle—it was cruel.

“Brandy Everhart?” he asked, the disappointment leaking through despite his best efforts to sound composed.

The woman smiled gently. “That’s me—though I’d appreciate it if you called me Brandy Chordwell before my husband gets any ideas,” she added with a teasing wink, pressing a kiss to Bruce’s cheek.

That kiss. That simple, casual kiss. It shattered something inside him. It was her, and yet it wasn’t. And that was the worst part of all. She had everything he wanted with his Brandy—the one he still hadn’t found. The real one. The only one.

Poppy wasn’t just heartbroken. He was envious of this woman who shared the same name as his Brandy but had nothing to do with her... and yet lived the life he ached for. She had the love of a man who adored her, the certainty of belonging, the peace of being chosen. And all the while, his Brandy—his love—was still out there, somewhere. Distant. Elusive. A flame flickering in a storm he couldn’t calm.

And the clock was ticking. Faster every second.

A wedding he didn’t want loomed on the horizon. A promise made by his father that kept him tied to a life that felt more like a prison than a future. Every moment spent here—every heartbeat spent staring at this stranger—was a cruel reminder that he was running out of time to find the one woman who made him feel real. Because this wasn’t the Brandy he loved. And if Poppy didn’t find her soon… he feared he never would.

Poppy took a deep breath, forcing down the storm in his chest as if his emotions were nothing more than clutter to be cleared—irrelevant, disposable. There was no room for heartbreak here. He was Poppy Beaumont, the perfect son. And perfect sons didn’t fall apart over ghosts. He straightened his posture, drawing on every ounce of poise he had left.

“My sister Viva asked me to give you this,” Poppy said, offering the folder with a grace that felt mechanical.

Brandy accepted it with a warm, polite smile. “Tell her thank you so much. Is there anything else?”

Poppy shook his head. No words. No glances. Nothing that would betray the crack forming in his chest. Anything more, and the whole dam would break.

Bruce huffed, impatient. “Do you want me to take you, or did you drive here?”

“I brought my car. I’ll follow you,” Poppy replied, voice steady though his soul felt anything but.

“No, you’ll follow me and Rhonda,” John interjected firmly, ever the commanding presence.

Clay muttered under his breath with a sigh. “Here we go again…”

“It doesn’t matter who leads,” Floyd chimed in, unbothered. “I’m calling shotgun because I am going.”

Brandy offered Poppy a sympathetic look—friendly, detached, distant. “Why don’t you wait in your car while Bruce and John sort it out?”

He gave a faint nod and turned away, his body moving before his mind could protest. Outside, the cold greeted him like a familiar friend. Poppy walked to his car in silence, each step heavier than the last. Once inside, he gently placed the bouquet on the passenger seat—flowers meant for a woman he doesn't love—and rested his hands on the steering wheel.

Poppy closed his eyes.

Exhaled.

It wasn’t her.

The Brandy he had loved—the one with fire in her soul and music in her laugh—was still out there, a memory wrapped in mystery. Somewhere distant. Somewhere unreachable. And maybe… just maybe, she had already forgotten him.

That thought settled like a weight on his chest. And for the first time in a long while, Poppy wondered if hope could be more dangerous than heartbreak.

Chapter Text

Brandy was both intelligent and romantic, and Poppy’s reaction only fueled the theory she’d been piecing together since the day before—ever since Branch had chosen to confide in her. But if Brandy’s suspicions were correct, her sister-in-law hadn’t been entirely honest.

The redhead glanced at the men still arguing inside the store. Though she felt the urge to break up the quarrel, her romantic instincts urged her to wait. If her theory was right, someone else needed her attention first: the poor boy waiting outside. Not only did she need to lift his spirits, but she also had to mentally prepare him for the surprise that awaited him with his fiancée.

With composed steps, Brandy exited the store and approached the only car parked on the street—clearly not owned by any of the Chordwell men. She knocked gently on the driver’s window, startling Poppy. He rolled it down quickly, his face a mix of confusion and the unmistakable anxiety of someone caught doing something questionable.

“Poppy,” Brandy said with a sweet smile, “since you're going to see Branch, can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course. What do you need?”

“I need you to deliver a message for me,” she replied, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Tell her that if she’s going to steal my identity, the least she can do is own up to it. It’s not very fun to figure it out on your own.”

Poppy’s confusion only deepened, but he nodded slowly. “Sure, no problem... Anything else?”

Brandy’s tone softened. “No, thank you, Poppy. You’re a peach.” Then, with more weight in her voice, she added, “I’m sure Branch will be very lucky to have you in her life.”

“Thank you… Brandy,” he murmured, still dazed.

She nodded and walked away from the car. As Poppy rolled the window back up, Brandy glanced sideways, pulling her phone from her pocket. She quickly dialed a number and pressed the device to her ear, waiting.

“Hello?” a young, confused-sounding voice answered.

“Hi, sweetheart. Is Jr. with you? I need to talk to both of you.”

“Yes, Mom. Give me a second.”

Brandy waited patiently until her eldest son's voice came on the line.

“Mom?”

“Jr., LaBreezey, listen closely. Mommy needs a huge favor from both of you.”

If Brandy knew her husband as well as she thought, Bruce was already scheming something. And if her theory was right, she needed to strike first—with the help of her kids.

After finishing the call, Brandy returned to the store just in time to see Bruce ending one of his own. She narrowed her eyes and raised an eyebrow.

“Who were you talking to?” she asked, arms crossed.

“Rainy. Just checking in to make sure everything’s okay at home,” Bruce replied with a casual shrug.

“Uh-huh…” Brandy murmured, clearly unconvinced. Still, she let it go—for now. “So, have you decided who’s guiding Poppy to the house?”

“We’re taking Rhonda,” John chimed in with a grin.

“We?” Brandy repeated, skeptical.

“Bruce, John, and I,” Floyd said matter-of-factly. “Clay’s staying behind to keep you company until one of the workers shows up.”

Brandy turned to her middle brother-in-law. He simply gave a resigned shrug.

“They didn’t give me a choice,” he muttered.

She nodded, feeling a flicker of sympathy. Clay clearly wanted to be part of what was coming, but someone had to stay behind and play the responsible adult.

From the store’s entrance, Brandy and Clay watched as the rest of the Chordwell brothers filed out and headed to Rhonda, ready to set the meeting between the future spouses in motion. Brandy took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Everything was moving according to plan. Now, all that remained was to see if her theory held true—and whether her plan would unfold just as she envisioned.

*************************

Poppy kept his eyes locked on the truck ahead, doing his best to follow its every turn. But his focus was slipping. His mind drifted—lost in a maelstrom of questions and emotions that twisted inside him like a storm with no eye.

Brandy’s words—not his Brandy, but the redhead with the knowing smile—reverberated in his mind, louder than the engine beneath his hands.

“...if she’s going to steal my identity, the least she can do is own up to it.”

Poppy had smiled, nodded even, too confused to protest. But now, each word peeled away at the seams of his carefully stitched reality.

Why would Brandy say that? Why send a message like that—through him? Why would he need to know his fiancée had stolen someone’s identity?

Brandy Everhart's identity to be exact... 

No.

No, it was impossible. It had to be.

But the thought slammed into him like a lightning strike, white-hot and blinding. It shattered his denial.

Poppy gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles pale. He couldn't let himself believe it. Not again. He had already built that dream once—of a life with her—only to watch it collapse like a house of cards, leaving nothing but heartbreak and silence in its wake.

And yet...

Her voice echoed back from the past, like a ghost still haunting his heart:

“...it’s hard for me to believe that you can love someone who has spent so long pretending to be someone she’s not.”

At the time, those words had confused him. Broken him. But now... they glowed with new clarity, painful and illuminating.

Pretending. Hiding.

The air around him thickened. Poppy could hardly breathe, as if the hope itself weighed too much. His heart—beating in a rhythm of quiet sorrow—now pounded with something dangerously close to belief. To longing.

Could it be possible?

His throat tightened.

Poppy wasn’t ready for hope, but it was already blooming in his chest like a fire he couldn’t put out.

No. It couldn’t be true.

But… what if it was?

If it was—if there was even the slightest chance—then everything changed.

Poppy swallowed hard, his throat dry, his hands trembling slightly against the steering wheel.

It would mean that all this time...

He shut his eyes for a moment, and the thought hit him like a blade twisting in his chest.

It meant they had lost years—precious, irreplaceable years. Years they could have spent together. Laughing. Loving, freely and without fear. It meant he could have held her hand without hesitation, whispered his dreams without wondering if they were foolish, kissed her without feeling like it was goodbye.

It meant there was still a chance.

And that possibility—that terrifying, fragile possibility—is what really messed him up. Because if Poppy dared to believe in it…

If he reached out for that light, only to find it was nothing more than a mirage... he wasn't sure he’d survive the fall this time.

His fingers clenched the steering wheel before Poppy even realized it. The truck ahead continued along the quiet road, oblivious to the storm it led in its wake. He still didn’t have the full truth, but he was closer than ever.

The silence inside the car pressed in around him, thick and absolute. His gaze never left the road, but his thoughts dragged him down, deeper and deeper—into a place where hope wrestled with despair, and longing pulsed like a second heartbeat.

Because if the woman with those sapphire eyes—those eyes he could never forget—and his fiancée were one and the same…

If Branch Chordwell had truly taken the name of Brandy Everhart during that festival…

Then not everything was lost.

Then maybe—just maybe—he still had time to reach her, to hold her without restraint, to see her smile without fear, to love her fully, with nothing left unsaid.

The thought alone made Poppy shiver. Unbidden, images poured into his mind—each one more vivid, more piercing than the last.

He saw himself waking beside her, the morning light dancing across her skin, her sleepy voice murmuring his name against his neck. He imagined quiet days filled with laughter and shared glances, the sound of her bare feet padding across the floor, coffee in hand, eyes glinting with that mischievous smile that had undone him.

He pictured a life—their life.

A home filled with love and warmth, soft mornings and golden evenings, whispered promises beneath the covers, secrets exchanged in the hush between dreams. He saw Branch in white, sapphire eyes shimmering with joyful tears as she walked toward him, every step a vow.

Poppy imagined forever.

A trembling sigh escaped him.

God.

If it truly was her...

A lump rose in his throat, and his vision blurred with the sudden force of emotion. It was overwhelming—hope, fear, and the aching love now rising in a rush that left him breathless. For the first time, Poppy let himself see a future not built on compromise or quiet sorrow. A future not with a stranger, but with her. With the girl who had always been his, even when she wasn’t.

He pressed his lips together, willing back the surge of feeling that threatened to spill over, but he couldn't contain it. A smile bloomed on his face—tentative, fragile, but real. The possibility was there, and it was enough. Enough to crack open the shell of numbness he’d worn.

He didn’t have answers yet. There was still a chance it was all a cruel coincidence.

But Poppy chose to hope.

Because if there was even the faintest chance that his fiancée—the woman he was about to marry—was the same girl with the sapphire eyes from the festival...

Then he would risk everything.

The drive to Bruce’s house felt endless. Every red light, every slow turn, every tick of the clock gnawed at Poppy’s nerves. His fingers tapped a restless rhythm on the steering wheel, trying—and failing—to silence the storm inside him. Hope and dread tangled in his chest like stubborn roots, tightening with each passing mile. When he finally turned onto the street and saw Bruce’s house rising ahead, his breath caught.

He was here.

The Chordwell brothers stepped out of their car without hesitation. Poppy remained seated in his car for a beat longer, his hands gripping the wheel as he tried to steady his breath.

“Okay, Poppy,” he murmured. “You’ve come this far.”

He climbed out of the car slowly, every movement deliberate, as though afraid that any sudden gesture might shatter the fragile hope he carried like glass in his hands.

Bruce and the others were waiting by the door—arms crossed, expressions unreadable.

“Welcome,” Bruce said simply, his tone giving nothing away.

“Thanks...” Poppy replied, his voice thinner than he would’ve liked.

Bruce gave him a once-over, then nodded toward a hallway. “They’re out back. My kids. My sister. Everyone.”

Poppy’s throat tightened. Her? Was she really here?

Every cell in his body urged him forward—run, run—but he kept himself in check. He had to. Because if he let himself believe too easily, and he was wrong...

No. He pushed the thought away.

Poppy took a deep breath and started walking. One step. Then another. His heart thudded, fast and uneven, like it was trying to reach the truth before he did.

If it’s her… if it really is her…

A small, trembling smile found its way to his lips.

Then we still have a chance. We could start over.

He stopped at the door to the backyard. For a moment, he closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as if trying to ground himself in the calm before the emotional storm.

“You’ve got this, Poppy,” he whispered. “No matter who’s out there… you’ll face it.”

His fingers brushed over the doorknob. And with his heart pounding loud enough to drown out the world, Poppy opened the door.

*************************

Branch sat in the backyard, surrounded by the joyful echoes of her niblings’ laughter as they dashed through the garden, caught in the magic of childhood. Their giggles rose and fell like music, warm and bright, wrapping the space in a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in days. But she and LaBreezey had chosen a quieter corner—curled up on the wide outdoor sofa beneath the shade of climbing vines.

LaBreezey sat cross-legged, idly twirling a flower between her fingers, while Branch sat behind her, gently weaving strands of her red curls. The little girl passed her white daisies one by one, and Branch threaded them through the soft hair with delicate care.

On the surface, the scene was calm—sweet, almost idyllic. But inside, Branch was anything but.

Her heart didn’t just ache—it felt pulverized, its pieces too fine to ever fit together again. She had always believed heartbreak was something that happened to other people. The kind of thing her brothers warned her about with bittersweet laughter, thinking they'd shielded her from it.

She was the youngest. The protected one. The one promised to someone since childhood.

They never imagined she’d want more than what was arranged. That she would choose love over duty. That she’d give her heart freely—to someone she wasn’t supposed to.

And now Branch was drowning in the consequences.

Still, in the midst of her quiet wreckage, her niblings grounded her. Their laughter, their innocent questions, their arms wrapped around her waist without knowing the weight she carried—they were her balm. They didn’t need to understand the ache in her chest to help soothe it. Their joy filled the cracks, if only for a while.

“Auntie Branch?”

LaBreezey’s gentle voice tugged her from her thoughts like a hand pulling her back from the edge.

Branch looked down, blinking. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can you sing me a song while you do my hair?”

A soft smile tugged at Branch’s lips, though it trembled at the corners. “Of course, dear. Any special one?”

The little girl shook her head. “Surprise me.”

Branch let out a quiet breath of laughter. She reached for another daisy and tucked it into the braid. “All right, then.” She drew in a breath, steadying the tremor in her voice, and began to sing.

“Two birds on a wire

One tries to fly away

And the other watches him close from that wire

He says he wants to as well

But he is a liar”

Her voice drifted through the air like a soft breeze, delicate and bittersweet, wrapping the garden in a quiet melancholy. As Branch sang, her hands moved automatically—braiding LaBreezey’s hair, tucking in daisies with the same tender care she wished she could give her own aching heart. For a brief, precious moment, the world faded. There was only the song, the rhythm of her breathing, and the quiet echo of what once was.

Then Rainy's shout shattered the stillness.

“He's the supervillain who wants to kidnap our princess!”

Branch’s head snapped up, startled. Her eyes scanned the yard until she spotted Rainy atop a newcomer, tackling him with dramatic flair, while the rest of her nephews piled on, joining the chaotic ambush. Whoever the poor soul was, his identity remained a mystery—obscured beneath a pile of giggling boys and imaginary weaponry.

Branch glanced at LaBreezey, who simply rolled her eyes and snorted in exasperation.

“Boys.”

Branch let out a small laugh, momentarily forgetting the identity of the man currently being smothered under a horde of overly committed child-heroes.

On the sidelines, Bruce crossed his arms, watching the scene unfold with quiet satisfaction. His children had followed instructions to the letter—though it had cost him a generous cookie bribe.

JD raised an eyebrow, eyeing his younger brother before landing a sharp punch to his shoulder. “This chaos has your fingerprints all over it, doesn’t it?”

Bruce didn’t bother denying it. He merely shrugged, the smug grin never leaving his face.

“Leave him alone,” Floyd chimed in, casually resting an arm on JD’s shoulder. “We want Poppy to run away, remember?”

John Dory blinked. “Wait—what? I thought the whole point was to get those two married, not send him running for the hills.”

Floyd smirked. “Think about it. If Poppy calls off the engagement, Branch still holds up her end of the deal. She walks away free, no strings attached. And Peppy Beaumont? He’ll disappear from embarrassment. Win-win.”

JD frowned, processing the logic. He wasn't the biggest fan of Floyd’s schemes, but… he had to admit. It didn’t sound like the worst outcome.

On the other side of the garden, Bruce Jr. observed his younger brothers as they pounced on the supposed fiancé, tackling him with all the energy and chaos only children could muster. The scene amused him—particularly because, despite being ambushed, the stranger didn’t look annoyed. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying it.

Bruce Jr. glanced down at the slightly crumpled bouquet in his hands, the same one he had swiped from the man the moment he stepped into the yard. It had been a thoughtful gesture… but if that guy really wanted to impress his aunt, he should’ve picked blue poppies—her favorite. Most people associated poppies with mourning, but the rare blue variety spoke of the pursuit of dreams. And if anyone deserved that symbolism, it was Auntie Branch.

Without ceremony, he placed the bouquet on a nearby table and headed toward her. Sure, part of him wanted to join the others in “flattening the fiancé”—because who was this guy to think he could be good enough for his perfect aunt? But he had a mission. His mom had given him a very clear job, and since LaBreezey was already doing her part distracting their aunt, it was his turn to step in.

Putting on his most innocent smile, he called out sweetly, “Auntie Branch?”

“Yes?” she replied, still half-distracted by the commotion.

“Do you think we could practice some dance steps?” he asked, his voice sugary sweet, while subtly signaling to LaBreezey behind her.

“Now?” Branch chuckled. “Wouldn’t it be better to help whoever your brothers are trampling?”

Before she could turn, Bruce Jr. gently cupped her cheek and guided her gaze back to him. “Don’t worry. It’s Uncle Floyd. He’ll survive—he’s used to them by now.”

Meanwhile, LaBreezey nodded subtly at her brother before stepping into the fray. She squared her shoulders, channeling her mom’s best “serious voice,” and commanded attention with nothing but her stance. The boys froze mid-attack, glancing up at her with wide-eyed respect.

Their so-called victim stood up with a laugh, brushing grass from his jacket. “Thanks for the rescue. I was starting to worry I wouldn’t make it.”

LaBreezey giggled and held out her hand. Without hesitation, he took it, letting her lead him to a carefully chosen spot on the grass.

Everything was going perfectly. 

“Stay here,” she instructed firmly.

Poppy raised an eyebrow, amused. “Can I ask why?”

LaBreezey gave him a knowing grin. “Because you’re about to prove to my brothers that you’re not a villain… you’re a prince.”

He blinked at her, surprised—then chuckled. “Well. That’s quite the promotion.”

But he stayed exactly where she told him.

LaBreezey exchanged a subtle glance with Bruce Jr., who was now guiding Branch toward the perfect spot. With precise timing, he gave her a gentle spin—one smooth, practiced motion that sent his aunt twirling gracefully across the grass.

She landed straight into the arms of the supposed Uncle Floyd.

Poppy caught her without hesitation.

For a moment, time held its breath.

Branch’s breath hitched as she found herself inches from a familiar face—his face. Her wide sapphire eyes locked onto Poppy’s, and he looked back at her with that same irreverent glint, the one that always seemed to unnerve her and warm her at the same time.

Neither of them moved.

LaBreezey, watching from the sidelines, crossed her arms with quiet pride and a smirk worthy of her mother.

Mission accomplished.

Chapter Text

Bruce frowned as Jr and LaBreezey rushed to help Poppy instead of attacking him, just as he’d ordered.

“Mmm... looks like your kids have betrayed you,” John Dory said with a sideways smirk. “That’s gotta sting.”

“And now he’s catching her like this is some damn fairy tale and he’s Prince Charming,” Floyd muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Branch will hit him any second now,” Bruce said with a shrug, confident his sister wouldn’t let it slide.

The three brothers watched closely, waiting for the inevitable explosion—Branch’s fury unleashed on the intruder who dared touch her.

But the hit never came.

“Why isn’t she hitting him? Why the hell isn’t she hitting him?” Floyd snapped, each word edged with disbelief.

“More importantly… why isn’t she pushing him away?” John Dory added, his voice rising with unease. “Why is she looking at Poppy like that?”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, suspicion sharpening his gaze. Something was off.

“And Jr and LaBreezey, grinning like they just won a bet while keeping the others distracted? This reeks of Brandy’s interference,” he growled. “There’s no way those two helped Poppy willingly”

Meanwhile, in the backyard, time seemed to freeze around them.

For Poppy, the world dissolved into silence—just a distant hum, irrelevant and faint. All that mattered was the figure before him: jet-black hair, sapphire eyes, and the soul he had searched for in every shadow of doubt. After all the longing, the sleepless nights imagining this moment, he was finally here—with her. His love. His missing piece. Everything in Poppy’s being pulsed with certainty: this was home. His hands had always been meant to hold hers. His heart had always beat for her.

And Branch… felt it too.

The warmth of his skin against hers, the electric shiver that traveled up her spine—she couldn’t deny it. But where Poppy found serenity, Branch was drowning in chaos.

Her breaths came short and shallow, her mind a whirl of panic and impossible hope. Poppy. How was he here? How had he found her? The man she had both dreaded and yearned to see again now held her as if she were sacred. As if nothing in the world mattered more. Her heart pounded in protest, each beat hammering against reason. Her brothers. What would they say if they saw this? What would they do? She was engaged—to someone else. What if Poppy knew? What if this were all part of uncovering the lie she had built?

She tried to push the thought away. She couldn’t afford to unravel. But then came something even more dangerous—more damning.

Her feelings.

The fire beneath her skin. The way her breath hitched when he looked at her with those desperate, reverent eyes. Branch should’ve pulled away. She knew she should. Every instinct told her this was wrong—reckless. But her body betrayed her. Branch leaned in, just slightly. Barely enough to notice, but enough for the truth to sting.

Why? Why couldn’t she let go? Why did this feel more right than anything she’d clung to before? And why, despite the fear, the guilt, the weight of everything at stake… did a quiet, dangerous part of her whisper: Don’t run. Stay.

For a fleeting moment, Branch wanted to forget everything—the danger, the lie, the fear that wrapped around her chest like a vice. For just that breath in time, all that existed was him. Poppy. His warmth seeped into her skin, his voice wrapped around her like a lullaby. His presence was an ache and a balm all at once—an echo of something she'd lost, only to find again in the last place she expected. And a dangerous part of her didn't want to let it go.

She wanted—needed—to be selfish. Just for a second. To believe that maybe, just maybe, fate had finally chosen to be kind. That this—he—was hers.

But…

She had made a promise to herself, and she couldn’t afford this kind of surrender.

“Pop-Pop-Pop…” Branch stammered, her voice trembling, caught between a rising tide of emotion and the wall she had built around her heart. She took a step back, as if space could soften the truth burning in her eyes.

Poppy smiled, the kind of smile that reached deep, one she’d never forgotten. He drew her closer instead of letting go. “I think the word you’re looking for is Poppy,” he murmured gently, his lips brushing the air between them. “Though I’d much rather hear ‘my love’, ‘the light of my life’, or any other sappy name you’d like to grace me with.”

Branch felt her knees weaken. No. She couldn’t give in. “What… what are you doing here?” she whispered, barely audible, the words ghosting across his skin. “If my brothers see you—”

Poppy silenced her with a single touch, his finger pressing lightly to her lips.

“They’re the ones who led me here,” he confessed softly, his eyes never leaving hers. “I was looking for my fiancée, Branch Chordwell—hoping we could strike a noble alliance and all that—because… I met this girl. Brandy Everhart. Beautiful, sharp-eyed, and completely unforgettable. I spilled a drink on her, remember?”

His thumb traced the curve of her cheek, reverent, like he was afraid she might vanish if he blinked.

“You have no idea the shock I felt when I realized they were the same person,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “The woman I was meant to marry… was also the woman I fell hopelessly in love with.”

Branch's world tilted, spun—shattered. Not only did Poppy know the truth… but he was the man John had promised her to since childhood. Her heart pounded like a war drum, her thoughts tangled into knots she couldn’t begin to untie.

It was too much.

A part of her felt an aching relief. A fierce, fragile joy. Was this destiny handing her a miracle? Could she really, truly spend her life with the same clumsy, maddeningly sweet boy who had unsettled her from the very first moment?

But another part of her recoiled, frozen. No. Fate had never been kind. Not to her. Not when all she had done was lie to him.

It wasn’t fair.

Branch let out a bitter, broken laugh, shaking her head like she could snap herself out of the dream. “I’m dreaming, right? There’s no way this is really happening.”

Poppy’s brows furrowed in concern. He cupped her face gently in his hands, as if she might vanish the second he let go.

“Branch, what are you talking about?”

Her eyes flicked away from his, unable to bear the warmth there. Her voice was low, fragile. “Any second now, I’ll wake up. Back in my stupid, miserable reality. There’s no way the world is small enough… for me to have accidentally fallen in love with my fiancé.”

Poppy was silent, breath held still as the wind between them. And then—he smiled. Wide and bright and certain. The kind of smile that makes your knees forget how to stand.

“So,” he said softly, his eyes alight with something unshakable, “you do love me?”

The words hit her like a thunderclap. Her breath caught. A tremor coursed down her spine.

He looked at her like she was a miracle, and she… she couldn’t stand it. Not when she had lied. Not when he looked at her like she was good and pure and his—when she didn’t know if she deserved to be any of those things.

Branch furrowed her brow and tore her gaze away, her chest tightening like a vice. “Why are you smiling like that? Why are you looking at me like I’m worth something?” Her voice cracked, trembling between fury and desperation. “You should be angry! You should hate me!”

The words burst from her like broken glass—not aimed at him, but at herself. At the shame, the fear, the crushing weight of her own choices.

Her breath hitched as she went on, the storm inside her rising. “Come on, Poppy. Be honest. Say it. Tell me I’m a fraud. A coward. A traitor who lied to your face every day at that cursed festival. You should want to end this—this engagement, this illusion—because how can you love someone who tricked you? How can you trust me now? It’s not fair to you!”

Poppy’s face shifted. The soft mischief in his expression gave way to something deeper—sorrow, fire, and a fierce devotion that nearly undid her. His magenta eyes, dark with feeling, locked onto hers as he reached for her. His hands didn’t hurt, but they grounded her—steady, certain, his.

“Fair?” he echoed, and his voice was raw silk, thick with emotion. “Was it fair that they kept us apart for years? That they made choices for us and never let us meet, never let us decide what we wanted?”

His grip tightened just slightly, as if to keep her from slipping away again.

“Where was the justice,” Poppy whispered, “when my days felt hollow—when everything was gray because you weren’t in them?”

Every word burned through her like lightning.

“If I had met you sooner, maybe we could’ve spared each other all this pain. But Branch… from the moment I saw you at that festival, you were all I saw. Every laugh, every smile, every stubborn word… you stayed with me. You haunted me—in the best and worst ways.”

Her knees threatened to buckle, but Poppy held her firm, as if his love alone could keep her standing.

“And now, you’re here. You—the girl who changed everything—standing right in front of me. And you want me to let you go? You think I could?” His voice trembled now, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. “No. I won’t. I’ve already lost you once. Don’t make me lose you again.”

Branch felt herself unraveling, a breath away from collapse.

“I hated watching you walk away on that beach,” he confessed, voice breaking. “I hated knowing I might never see you again. That I might never get the chance to tell you again and again how you made me feel. That kind of loss—it tore me apart.” He drew in a breath, shaky but resolute. “Please. Tell me you feel it too. Tell me I’m not alone in this. Don’t shut me out. Don’t let fear steal this from us.”

Branch clenched her eyes shut because she did feel it. Gods, it was the only thing she felt. With every heartbeat. With every breath. With every trembling inch of her soul, she loved him.

But saying it aloud—surrendering to it—meant opening herself up to a future she didn’t think she deserved.

And that terrified her.

Because if she said it… if she let herself fall completely…

There would be no turning back.

Poppy waited. Every heartbeat that passed without a word from Branch felt like a blade twisting deeper into his chest. Still, he didn’t move. He didn’t blink. Poppy simply held her, as if the sheer force of his love could keep her from slipping through his fingers again.

“Tell me, Branch Chordwell,” he breathed—half plea, half command. “Tell me you love me too.”

She swallowed hard, her throat dry, her lungs refusing to work properly. Her chest burned with a storm of panic and yearning. Her mind begged her to run, but her heart… her heart clung to him, trembling, desperate, as if he were the only thing keeping her from collapsing.

“Poppy…” Her voice cracked under the weight of his name.

His hand rose to her cheek, fingers trailing gently along her skin like a sacred vow. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he whispered, eyes searching hers with aching tenderness. “It doesn’t matter what you did. It doesn’t matter how many walls you built between us. I’m here. And I’m not letting go.”

Branch trembled. His gaze was too much—raw, unwavering, filled with a love so vast it felt impossible. How could he still look at her like that? Like she was something beautiful. Something worth fighting for. As if she hadn’t broken every rule, every line, just to keep the truth from him.

“Why…?” Her voice faltered, barely holding together. “Why don’t you hate me?”

Poppy’s lips curled into a sad, radiant smile. “Because falling in love with you was never a mistake.” He leaned closer, his forehead resting against hers. “It was my fate.”

The words shattered something inside her. Her breath hitched. Her knees nearly gave out. And in that moment—raw, exposed, fragile—she knew.

There was no escape.

Because her heart had always belonged to him. From the first moment, and forevermore.

With trembling fingers, Branch lifted her hand and placed it over Poppy’s, still resting on her cheek. His touch was steady. Grounding. Real.

And then, with her soul poised on the edge of everything Branch feared and everything she wanted, she shut her eyes… and let herself fall.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of the truth. “So much it terrifies me. You turn my world upside down. You make me feel everything—and I don’t know how to survive it.”

Her confession was a whisper carried on a trembling breath—but in her heart, it was a cry. A surrender. A promise.

And it would echo in her bones forever.

Chapter Text

For a moment, Poppy didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. It was as if time had frozen, as if his heart needed a second to believe those words had truly come from Branch’s lips.

Then, finally, he laughed—softly, in wonder, overflowing with joy. “Say it again,” he whispered, smiling like the sun had risen just for him. “Please.”

Branch rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. “I love you, Poppy Beaumont.”

He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, savoring every syllable like a balm for lost time. Then, with his face full of emotion and longing, Poppy reached up to cradle Branch’s cheeks, leaning in slightly...

But he stopped.

Branch blinked, curious. “What’s wrong?”

Poppy sighed, resting his forehead gently against hers, trying to steady himself. “I’m dying to kiss you right now,” he murmured, voice husky and full. “But your niblings are watching... and I can’t shake the feeling your brothers are lurking somewhere, ready to tackle me to the ground.”

Branch blinked—then burst out laughing. “S-Seriously?” she choked out between giggles. “You just gave a line straight out of a romance novel, and what’s stopping you is them?”

“It’s not fear!” Poppy defended, crossing his arms. But the way he flushed gave him away. “It’s... caution. Your brothers have a deadly instinct when it comes to protecting you.”

Branch bit her lip, trying—and failing—not to laugh again. “You’re not wrong,” she said, glancing at Jr. and LaBreezey, who were watching with barely concealed delight. “Although... my niblings seem to be enjoying this way too much.”

Poppy let out an exaggerated sigh. “You should be grateful someone in your family supports our love.”

Branch rolled her eyes again, but her smile turned softer. For the first time, the fear that had always lingered quietly inside her faded—replaced by the comforting truth that Poppy wasn’t going anywhere.

He sighed, the sound heavy with longing. “This is cruel, Branch. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be this close to you and not be allowed to kiss you?”

Branch tilted her head, one brow arching with playful challenge. “You could try,” she said with faux nonchalance, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Though I can’t promise you’ll survive the attempt.”

Poppy chuckled, leaning in until their foreheads touched. His voice dropped to a murmur. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Her eyes gleamed, sapphire bright and daring. “Because the moment my brothers see you move even a fraction closer, engagement or not, I doubt they’ll hesitate to tackle you into the nearest hedge. They’ve been suspiciously quiet—and that’s never a good sign.”

Poppy let out a breathy laugh, but didn’t budge. The temptation was magnetic—her breath against his skin, the warmth of her so near, the way her presence pulled him in like gravity.

“I’d love to be reckless,” he said softly, eyes locked on hers. “To say it’d be worth a flying tackle just to steal one kiss from you.” His fingers brushed hers, barely touching. “But if it’s between a kiss now and a lifetime with you,” he added, voice laced with reverence, “I’d rather survive the day.”

Branch’s smile softened, affection curling at the corners of her lips. The rascal always had something clever to say, and yet… every word Poppy spoke rang true. He sounded like a man who had already decided—without hesitation—that she was his future. And the most dangerous part? Branch  couldn’t find a single reason to stop him from believing it.

The Chordwell brothers' expressions were taut with suspicion and barely concealed irritation.

“What are they saying? And why the hell are they so close?” John hissed, his voice low but sharp with panic.

“I don’t know, John Dory! Maybe if you stopped flapping your jaws, I could actually hear something,” Bruce snapped, shooting him a sideways glare. “So do us all a favor—zip it.”

Floyd, the quietest of the three, stood with arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the couple like he was decoding a puzzle. His brows were drawn, not in anger but in something deeper—something like reluctant acceptance. After a long pause, he sighed and looked down.

“Well… there goes Operation: Sabotage Sapphire's Engagement,” he muttered.