Chapter 42 – “BIRDS OF A FEATHER” - Billie Eilish
VICE
“BIRDS OF A FEATHER” - BILLIE EILISH
FOUR MONTHS LATER
“God, you two are fucking criminal,” Dahlia calls, watching me from where she sits on the massive beach blanket with a hand covering her eyes. “It’s actually annoying. I want you to leave.”
I finish slipping off my denim shorts, kicking them aside as I adjust the triangles of my black bikini top.
August snorts from beside me, and when I glance at him, I absolutely understand her sentiment.
He’s giving me the same kind of assessment, his eyes—barely visible behind darkened transparent lenses—track all of my exposed flesh.
I’m stuck on his sun-kissed skin, the expanse of patchwork tattoos along his arms and torso, and the sculpted muscles of his toned stomach.
“We’re not making anyone leave, Wildflower,” my twin muses as he rubs sunscreen into his wife’s ever-growing stomach while she leans back on her elbows and tilts her head toward the sun. “You’re the most beautiful person on the planet, I promise. Total MILF.”
Everett lies on his stomach between her legs, resting his face on her belly.
We’re just about six weeks out from Dahlia’s due date with their set of twins, but Everett isn’t wrong.
She’s glowing. Her sapphire ring and diamond-studded wedding band reflect the sunlight as she runs her fingers through his hair, smiling softly down at him.
He proposed during their trip over the summer, and they got married in a courthouse not long after returning home.
Now, they’re working through the process of having Everett officially adopt Lou.
“He’s right,” I chime, bending over to pull a towel out of my bag. “You are a MILF.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Leo shouts from behind me. “What the hell is on your ass?”
I snap straight, turning to glance down at my own backside. August lets out a small laugh, leaning back on his elbows from the towel beside me, studying my body with rapt appreciation.
“It’s a tattoo,” I say casually.
“Is that a fucking bite mark?” Everett asks, lowering his sunglasses and staring at me with narrowed eyes.
Leo’s frowning, face shaded by the umbrella he sits beneath on Dahlia and Everett’s other side, rocking Willow as she sleeps against his bare chest.
I shrug, turning back to my bag and pulling out my towel, August helping me spread it beside him. I sit on my knees in front of August, tossing my hair behind my shoulders.
“Did… Did Auggie tattoo his bite mark on your ass cheek in red ink?” Leo asks.
My eyes pop open, jaw ticking with annoyance. “Yes,” I hiss. “And I tattooed my lips on his pelvic bone in red ink too. Right above his—”
“Dude,” Leo scoffs, directing his attention to August. “That is…”
“Super hot, honestly,” Darby pipes up from her husband’s other side, lowering her book into her lap.
“Honeysuckle.” He gasps. “I was going to say possessive and insane.”
“On brand.” August laughs under his breath as he scoops my hair off my back and begins splitting it into sections before twisting it into a braid. I taught him how a few months ago, and he’s loved playing with my hair ever since.
“It’s definitely insane, but I can’t say I’m surprised in the slightest,” Everett mutters.
Our commotion must’ve woken Willow, because a shrieking laugh rips through the space, and when I look back at them, Leo’s eyes are wide, sparkling with amusement. His daughter sits up on his chest, babbling incoherently as she places her tiny hands on her dad’s cheeks.
“Yeah, sugar. Tell me all about it.” He smiles contentedly as Darby leans over, pressing her lips to Willow’s head before kissing Leo too.
They watch their daughter, donned in the most adorable powder-blue ruffled swimsuit with a matching bow on her head.
Darby’s wearing a suit of the same color, and the expression on my brother’s face when he looks at them feels like a definitive representation of one’s dreams coming true.
“Jules finally caught the frisbee in her mouth,” Lou says, panting as she runs up the beach, placing her hands on her knees to catch her breath. “She needs practice.”
A fluff of brown fur barrels against August’s chest a moment later as she plants her front paws on his thighs and begins licking his face. I laugh, brushing my hand through her soft pelt and scratching behind her ears.
We went to the shelter about three months ago to search for a dog, and we came across some grungy mutt with the cutest fucking face I’d ever seen. She looked like she wanted to be a border collie but couldn’t figure out quite how.
They told us her name was July, and I knew then that it was kismet. If I spent my whole life with a July and an August, every day would feel like summer.
We call her Jules for short, though.
“Thanks for teaching her,” I say, laughing.
Water sluices off Lou as she reaches into the cooler beside her mom and pulls a sandwich out of it, flopping directly into the sand.
The dog’s paws are wet, too, as she jumps on me and begins licking my cheek.
It’s warm enough today to enjoy the water without a wetsuit, but it’s probably the last day we’ll have like it for a while as the late summer morphs to autumn.
The cove beneath the cliffside of Darby and Leo’s house is still brimming with summer color.
The knolls rolling above it are bright green.
The palm trees at the base rattle in the sea breeze, mingling with the crashing sound of the whitecaps against the shore.
The azure of the sky clashes with the cobalt of the Pacific, casting the world in a hue of blue, while the sun sparkles above it, shrouding all of us in light.
“May seventh is the opening of the bookstore, right?” Darby asks me.
“Yeah.” I sigh. “I wanted to open it earlier, but with my release coming up in the spring, it just wasn’t going to work out. Too much going on at once.”
“Yeah, but you’re busy for the best possible reasons,” Leo adds. “Publishing your first book in over five years, opening a bookstore, and the rebranding of the tattoo shop.”
August draws circles over my shoulder blade, and though I can’t see his face, I can feel him smile.
My new book was picked up by a publisher earlier this summer for a release date of next spring.
When I returned to social media and began reconnecting with my readers, I was so convinced they’d all have forgotten me.
That I’d have to start from scratch. Surprisingly, that wasn’t the case.
The support has been immense and overwhelming, and with the opening of my very own bookstore on top of all of it, I’ve never felt more fulfilled.
“The boardwalk will finally be filled, and it only took us six fucking years.” Everett laughs.
What started out as five empty suites—the ghosts of failed businesses from our childhood, now bustling and lively, updated with paint and decor, and red rose bushes that Darby planted along each of the entrances—will soon be repurposed by all of us:
Heathen’s Surf Co., Honeysuckle Florals, The Wicked Wildflower Cafe and Bakery, Sugar and Vice Romance Bookstore, and Ultraviolet Tattoo and Piercing.
“There is an author I’ve been chatting with online. She told me that her sister-in-law drove through Pacific Shores once and said it was beautiful. She’s been wanting to visit ever since. Maybe we should set up a signing for her when the store opens?” Darby asks.
“Yeah, I’d love that.”
“Well, I want those books with the sexy Canadian cowboys on the covers,” Dahlia adds. “That’s my request.”
“You need more surfer books,” Leo mutters.
“I’ll do my best,” I murmur.
“Hush.” Darby laughs at her husband. “But I do have a great recommendation for that. It has the cutest blue cover.”
“Oh, and your mom wants you to stock the series her book club has been reading. The multicultural small town one with the Latine love interests she keeps saying are to die for,” Dahlia says.
“Okay, someone email me a list because I can’t keep track of this, but yes. Those all sound great. Lou…” I turn my head back to look at her. “Do you have any suggestions?”
“I don’t like being put on the spot like that.” Her lips cluster at the corner of her mouth contemplatively. “Can I email you later too?”
“Sure, kid.” I laugh.
She nods before looking at my brother. “Dad, can you take me surfing now?”
“Yeah, Luz. Let’s go.” He smiles, kissing Dahlia’s stomach before lifting off the ground.
Leo follows suit, transferring Willow into Darby’s arms. “Auggie, you wanna come with us? I brought an extra board down from the house.”
“Oh, I…” August pauses.
I lift onto my elbows, placing my hand against his knee. “You should try. It’s a great day for it.”
Some kind of recognition flashes in his eyes, but he only brings my hand to his mouth, brushing his lips over my knuckles. “I will if you will.”
“There is only one board.”
“You can ride with me, Lena.” Leo smiles. “Like the old days.”
I tilt my head at him, a laugh bursting from my lips. “We were kids when we used to do that.”
He shrugs, dimples popping. “Yeah, well I’m a professional now.”
I sit up on my knees, holding August’s hand as he helps me stand up. He jogs to the far side of Darby and Leo’s stuff, grabbing the spare board that’s propped up in the sand as I meet my brother, pulling his board from his arms.
“Not anymore, retired old man.”
“Please,” he scoffs, snagging it back from me.
I jog after him, and by the time we’re knee-deep in the water, he’s shoving me in a way that only my fucking brothers will ever get away with, causing me to tumble right into the waves.
“You’re such a fucking ass.” August laughs, sneaking up behind Leo and pushing him deeper too.
“Hold up, Luz. Let me go out one time with my siblings, and then I’ll come back and grab you. Is that okay?” Everett asks.
“Yeah, that’s fine. I didn’t know August and Elena surfed too.”
Leo, August, and I pause, the waves crashing over their hips and my waist. We watch Everett plant a kiss on his daughter’s head. “Not for a long time, but it looks like they’re going to try today.”
August grabs my hand then, and when I look at him, the sun casts over his face, setting him aglow. The warmth of its light wraps around me like a familiar, long-lost embrace.
Leo, August, and Everett drag their boards out until they’re all chest deep, but I’ve barely got my toes touching the sea floor, the water rippling over my neck.
“Saddle up, Lena,” my brother says, holding the board steady.
I swing my leg over, straddling the front end before crossing my legs beneath me.
August is on one side of me, Everett on the other, both lying flat on their chests.
Leo sits behind me on his knees, and we begin paddling toward the break.
The cove creates a gentle enclave, so the waves aren’t strong here. Leo always loved this area because it allowed him consistency to perfect his form and train his body, while the waves on the open beaches in town created a more challenging environment.
It’s perfect for us today, and when a small swell begins to rise, racing toward us, Leo spins our board and begins paddling rapidly back to shore. I feel the water elevate the board before my brother’s movement rocks it side to side, and I know he’s standing.
“C’mon, Lena,” he shouts, hands gripping beneath my shoulders and hauling me up too. I plant my hands on the board, slowly bending my knees and fixing my gaze at the tip of the surfboard to hold my balance as Leo helps me stand.
He keeps his hands on my waist, and I extend my arms as we ride out the small wave.
Wind whips through my hair, and saltwater splashes against my skin.
I’m drenched in déjà vu as the familiar lifting sensation erupts in my chest. The feeling of meeting a force of nature head-on, and running with it, defying its power and absorbing its energy, until you find a cohesive partnership.
Like writing, surfing is an art form. A medium I’ve missed dearly.
We chase the barrel until it crashes beneath us, and we sink back down into the waves. The rush of water flips the board, causing Leo and me both to tumble off it.
As we both resurface and haul ourselves back onto it, my brother shakes his wet hair away from his eyes. “I’m so fucking proud of you! That was badass.”
A whistle pierces the air, and my head snaps to my other brother, who tosses an arm in the air. His pointer and pinkie fingers are up, with his thumb stuck out to the side. I return the gesture before my eyes begin searching the waves for August.
Sure enough, he’s just behind us, knees bent, gaze focused, gliding across the wave with one hand trailing through the water beside him.
I watch him, enthralled by his graceful movement as he rides out the remainder of the wave.
He’d always been a natural surfer, though like me, he didn’t treat it competitively.
I’m not surprised that even after years away from it, he coasts over the water effortlessly.
I press a quick kiss to my brother’s cheek, whispering, “Thank you,” before leaping off his board and into the water. August’s board drops back into the water, and I swim the short distance between us until I reach him.
“Hi,” he says, watching me curiously as I lift my upper body up onto his board.
“Hi.” He inches backward as I hoist myself onto the board, straddling it backward so I can face him. “I missed you.”
“Right here, baby. I’m right here.”
“I know.” I grab the back of his neck and tug him into me. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you, too.” He rests his forehead against mine, and I close my eyes. “I’m proud of us.”
With the sun’s warmth soaking into my skin, the smell of rain, pine, and seawater enveloping my senses, and the soft touch of my soul’s best friend against my face, I finally return home.