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.