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.