4
Dylan
Then
The bonfire crackles, sending flickering shadows over the beach as Beckett and I arrive. The soft glow highlights clusters of people, their laughter and easy conversation making it feel like everyone here has known each other forever. I trail after my brother, willing away the nerves that crept in the moment we hit the sand. Maybe enduring an evening with Mom and her new boyfriend would’ve been the easier choice.
Beckett catches my hesitation and nudges me forward, grinning. He knows me too well. I’d rather be alone, sketching or painting, than stuck making small talk with strangers.
“Yo, appreciate the invite,” he calls out as a few guys approach. “Figured I’d bring my twin sister along. Hope that’s cool.”
I glance up just as one of the guys looks over, and my breath catches. It’s him—the boy from the diner. He barely acknowledged me then, but somehow, it was enough to set my nerves alight.
His gaze locks onto mine, and for a moment, the noise, the fire, the entire beach fades away.
Beckett gestures loosely to the group. “Dylan, this is Graham and Miles,” he says, but the names barely register. “And that’s Brooks—”
There’s an intensity in his stare, a natural self-assurance that sends my heart racing. He’s tall, effortlessly magnetic, and the way he carries himself—laid-back yet commanding—sets him apart, even in a crowd.
Brooks narrows his eyes slightly, as if he’s trying to place me, and suddenly, it feels like the whole world is watching us.
“Not a problem at all,” he comments, a dimpled smile spreading slowly across his face—one that feels meant just for me. Rosy pink blooms across my cheeks, and I pray the blush isn’t as obvious as it feels.
The moment unfortunately breaks when one of the other guys—Miles, I think Becks said—speaks up. “You two thirsty?”
“Hell yeah,” Beckett drawls, pulling me in with a relaxed arm around my shoulder. “What do you have?”
“Not much—just beer, beer, and…” Miles snorts, rummaging through the cooler before tossing two cans our way with a chuckle. “More beer. But don’t worry, it’s good stuff.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, accepting the drink and forcing a smile. My eyes immediately flick up to Beckett. “Becks, promise me you won’t overdo it tonight. You know I can’t drive your truck home.”
Beckett groans, tossing his head back. “I’ll be fine, Dill. Relax.” He gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before wandering off with his new teammates.
I watch them walk away, feeling a bit out of place amidst all the unfamiliar faces. I decide to drift down the beach, letting the soothing rhythm of the waves and distant laughter fade into the background as I approach the shoreline.
Lowering myself onto the untouched sand, my toes press into the soft grains and a slow breath slips free. The beer Miles handed over pops open with a soft hiss, releasing a cool bitterness that mixes with the warmth of the evening air—a small but welcome escape.
The stillness breaks as a low voice calls out, startling me. “Hey, why did you sneak off?” Brooks eases down beside me, his broad shoulders slightly hunched beneath a well-worn dark-gray hoodie.
“Parties aren’t really my scene,” I offer cautiously. “I came to keep an eye on my brother and to get a break from…everything.”
“I’m glad you did. Saw you at Ruby’s earlier and was hoping we’d run into each other again.”
Bringing the can to my lips, I stall, eyes fixed on the rolling waves rather than his.
“Is that so?”
Brooks lets out a laugh, a rough, reluctant sound that feels like it’s not something he gives away lightly. “Yeah. Plus the view’s a lot more interesting over here.”
Small talk has never felt so intimidating. Before moving, every interaction was predictable—there was never any need to second-guess myself or try to fit in. Being alone had been a choice, one that felt safe, unlike the whirlwind of Beckett’s social life. That safety had been necessary, a layer of control after what happened—something I’ve kept hidden, even from my twin.
“So, what’s there to do around here besides sit on the beach and drink?” I try to keep my question firm, but the nervousness still creeps in.
“Well, this isn’t the most exciting place to live,” He shoots me a crooked grin before looking back towards the fire, the movement effortlessly drawing my own eyes there too. “You’re looking at the best of it, unfortunately.”
I take in the flames, as if their crackling warmth could somehow dissipate the nerves building inside me. Back home, I’d never wanted to be a part of the parties, the crowds. But here, away from everything familiar, it’s hard to tell if the distance I’ve always kept is out of choice…or fear.
I tuck my knees up slightly, brushing my hands over them as I reposition. “So I have to leave town for anything worthwhile, huh?”
“Not unless you enjoy the outdoors,” he laughs.
“Hardly,” I admit, my voice edged with a quiet exhale. “Guess I’m stuck between getting wasted on the beach or signing up for park ranger duty.”
Another small town. Another place I didn’t ask to be. I can almost hear my mom’s voice, as if moving to these nowhere places is a solution to something. A fresh start, she always says. But all it ever feels like is a dead end. Just another boring town we’ve bounced through, where nothing changes but the people.
There’s a flash of mischief in Brooks’ eyes before he stands, his hand outstretched in front of me. “Ah. It’s not that bad. Let’s go…explore.”
Against my better judgement my fingers reluctantly slip into his, and a spark—unexpected and electric—jolts up my arm, catching me off guard. The sand shifts and sinks under my weight as he lifts me up. For a second, I teeter, feeling gravity pull me forward, but his grip tightens around my hand, steadying me. He doesn’t look away, his expression hovering between playful defiance and quiet curiosity, as if waiting for me to make the next move. A languid, insistent pulse builds beneath my ribs, like he’s holding open a door I hadn’t realized was there.
“Oh? Stealing me away already? I must be special. Where exactly are we going?” The question slips free before I can second-guess myself.
He leans in slightly, nudging me with his elbow. “To explore,” he repeats, daring me forward. His hand grazes the small of my back, keeping me close as we step further away from the bonfire’s glow. The distant laughter and crackling flames fade behind us as we leave the packed sand, weaving through the trees lining the beach. The air grows cooler, thick with the scent of salt and seaweed, and the night feels quieter here—untouched.
Our steps fall in sync, the proximity between us comfortable, until the trees thin, and a towering silhouette looms ahead—an old building, worn and crumbling, half-concealed by overgrown grass. It stands like a forgotten relic, eerie in the moonlight, as if time abandoned it long ago.
My interest piques, and I glance toward it. “What’s this place?”
His brows knit together as he studies the building. “A vacant church, I think?”
“Think the door opens?”
The idea of going inside surprises me, but my pulse betrays the thrill starting to take root. Back home, I never would’ve imagined walking off with someone like him, let alone into a place like this. But here, it feels like I’m testing my limits.
Brooks lets out a laugh, glancing back over his shoulder as if considering an escape route. “You’re kidding, right? Not a chance.”
“Why not?” My teeth catch the inside of my cheek as I struggle to keep a straight face. “Are you scared?”
He lets out a breath, ruffling his hair anxiously, though I can tell he’s trying not to smile. “No.”
“Then what’s stopping you?”
Brooks eyes me with an exasperated look, his voice flat. “Because it looks like it’ll collapse if we so much as sneeze on it.”
“Come on, Brooks. Live a little—you said we were here to explore.”
He shakes his head, a reluctant half-smile finally breaking through. “Alright, fine. But if I die, I’m haunting you. Forever .”
I smother a laugh with my palm, doing my best to keep it contained. “Deal.”
We tread lightly, broken bricks shifting beneath us, twisted weeds brushing against our legs. The closer we get, the more details emerge in the moonlight—cracked windows, faded paint, and a set of heavy double doors, worn from years of harsh weather. It’s quiet—the kind of silence that feels ancient. As we reach the entrance, Brooks’ eyes flicker in my direction, a wariness hidden beneath his curiosity.
“Still think this is a good idea?” he asks, the tease in his voice undercut by genuine hesitation.
Instead of answering, I reach for the rusted door handle, pulling with more confidence than I feel. The wood moans under the pressure, opening into the dim, cavernous space of the church’s interior. A cold draft sweeps past us, stirring the scent of damp wood and dust. Brooks edges closer, his shoulder bumping mine as we continue walking.
“Wow,” I breathe, taking in the broken pews lined up in neat, ominous rows, each shrouded in debris. Light filters through gaps in the roof, casting a silvery glow over the space. Part of me wonders how many people once gathered here, sitting in these very benches, finding solace in something bigger than themselves.
The two of us maneuver our way through the building, drawn deeper in. I can’t help but notice how Brooks’ hand hovers near mine, as if he’s ready to catch me if I fall, even though the ground is firm beneath me. Trailing a finger along the edge of a seat, grime coats my fingertips. In another life, maybe I would’ve felt at home in a place like this—somewhere that would’ve felt like a foundation instead of a question. Whatever version of me that might’ve belonged here disappeared ages ago, taking any real sense of safety with it.
“So, what brought you to Rockport?”
His question lands unexpectedly, making me rethink what I’m willing to share. Some things are meant to be unpacked over time—not dumped onto someone you just met. “My mom thought change would be good for us.” It’s the simple version, one that doesn’t invite follow-ups, so I go with it. “What about you? Have you always lived here?”
“Yup, born and raised. My whole family too.”
“Cool,” is all I can manage in response. I try to imagine what that would feel like—to be so deeply rooted, to belong. But the thought slips away just as quickly. That kind of security isn’t something I’ve ever known.
“So, what do you think—worth the detour, or should we have stuck with the bonfire?”
My mouth betrays me, tugging into a smile that’s too real to hide. “I’d say it was worth it. There’s something kind of peaceful about this place—like we’ve stumbled onto a secret that belongs only to us.”
He chuckles, crossing his arms as he leans against a broken pew. “Yeah, I guess it’s got its own kind of charm—if you’re into that whole haunted vibe.”
I square my shoulders, mirroring his stance. “Really? Didn’t think you’d be into it.”
For a moment, his bravado thins—a tiny fracture in the confidence I assume he wears like armor. “Maybe I like having an excuse to get away.”
“Was this your plan all along?” I tease.
“My plan?” he echoes, one eyebrow lifting. “You mean luring you into a creepy, abandoned church late at night?”
“If that was your goal, I’d say you nailed it.”
A smirk threatens to form, but the clench of his jaw keeps it at bay. “Not everything is a plan. Sometimes you just find the right place, the right moment.”
“And you thought this would be the right moment?”
“I wasn’t expecting any of this, actually,” he admits, though his voice is a little more serious now. “Maybe the most memorable moments are the ones we never see coming.”
I bite my lip, studying him, then glance back toward the entrance, the weight of responsibility pressing down on me. “I should probably get back…make sure my brother hasn’t gotten himself into trouble.”
“Responsibilities don’t stop, huh?” He lets out a quiet breath, clearly trying to mask his disappointment with a shrug.
“Yeah,” I reply, my gaze drifting to the door, as if it might give me permission to stay. “I wish it were easier to just…forget about them.”
Reluctantly I take a step back and, of course, my foot catches on a loose floorboard. I lose my balance, and suddenly, everything just…tilts, pitching me forward before I can react. Just before hitting the ground, firm hands grip my waist, halting my descent with unyielding strength. I gasp, the air catching in my throat as I’m pulled upright into Brooks’ chest.
His sudden closeness is shocking, and I’m immediately hyper-aware of every inch of him behind me. There’s a push and pull in his hold, a mix of settling in and staying alert, like a muscle stretched too far. Then, out of nowhere, an unexpected chill runs through me—the fragile thread of a hidden memory snapping free. Each breath feels like an invitation to the past, and I’m standing on the edge of something I’m not ready to face.
When Brooks finally lets go, the embarrassment hits me full force, and I let out a nervous laugh, doing my best to shake off the overwhelming sensation swirling inside me.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, my voice barely there, as if saying it will somehow make the moment less…awkward.
“Don’t be. Are you okay?” He lets his words fall gently, like he’s trying to reassure me without saying too much.
“Yeah…I’m fine.”
Brooks shifts, his hands slipping into his pockets before stepping toward the door. “Should we head back and see what Beckett is up to?”
There’s too much going on inside my head, and I’m unsure of how to act, so I simply nod, trying my best to keep it together.
The walk back to the beach passes in the blink of an eye. I wish I could have stayed, but my mind is still scrambling, desperately trying to regain the calm I’ve spent years building.
Thankfully, I spot Beckett sitting on the tailgate of a nearby pickup, legs swinging lazily as he watches the bonfire crackle in the distance. As we get closer, he hops down, his cheeks flushed, and I can’t help but feel a little guilty for disappearing earlier.
“What the hell, Dylan? Where did you go?”
I open my mouth, but I don’t have an answer. How do you explain to your twin the decision to step out of your comfort zone? To wander off with a stranger when you’ve never been one to care about making friends? It’s not a conscious choice, really. It’s more like a moment when the familiar starts to feel too small, like you’re suffocating in the safety you’ve built for yourself. So, you take a breath and try something new.
“I just needed some air.”
Beckett eyes me, then shifts to Brooks, skepticism written all over his face. “Air? On the beach, really?”
Brooks laughs softly, clearly not rattled by Beckett’s question. “We just went for a walk,” he says smoothly, his tone friendly despite my brother’s accusing glare. “Checked out an old church.”
“A church, huh? Sounds pretty sketchy.”
Brooks grins, shrugging slightly as he steps back. “You know, it’s better than sitting around and doing nothing, right?” He glances over at me. “I’m gonna go find Miles, make sure he’s good. You two okay?”
“Yeah,” I say quickly, though I’m not entirely sure if I mean it. Beckett’s still watching me closely. He takes a step back, crossing his arms over his chest, and I can feel the judgement radiating off of him.
“You’re going on walks with people? Did you have a stroke?
I stiffen, irritation creeping in. “I mean…we were just talking, Becks. It’s fine. Let’s just get home before you’re too wasted to drive.”
“I’m not wasted,” Beckett grumbles, brushing off my concern with a quick wave. “I’ve only had a few drinks. We’re talking about you right now.”
“No. We’re not,” I snap, gripping his arm and steering him toward the truck. “And I’m not taking any chances.”
Beckett lets out a breath, offering no resistance as I pull him away to leave. The drive home is somber, broken only by Beckett’s half-hearted attempts at small talk, his words fading in and out as he struggles to keep his focus. Truthfully, neither of us is eager to head back, but until we hit eighteen, there’s no avoiding it.
The house is a mere outline in the dark ahead of us, emerging lifelessly as we near the driveway. Beckett cuts the engine and leans back, his head resting against the glass as he stares out, lost. His shoulders sag, his posture wilting under the invisible burden of the past few days.
“Thanks for driving,” I mutter, more to break the silence than anything else.
Beckett glances at me, his usual teasing expression gone, replaced by something unreadable. “I hate this place, Dill. I know it’s only been a day…but we need to get out of here.”
“I know. We will, Becks. I promise.” My words are meant for him, but I’m secretly trying to convince myself, too. Growing up with Mom has been a blur of constant change—no permanence, no safe space. There’s never a moment to stop, to breathe, to stay . We’re both just waiting for the day we can escape.
Beckett doesn’t wait, already halfway to the door before I even have a chance to catch up. I trail behind, the world around us silent, save for the rhythm of our steps on the gravel. He stumbles as he reaches the steps, nearly tripping, and I grab his arm to keep him from toppling over, frustration simmering as he leans his full weight into me.
“Jesus, KitKat, how much did you drink?” I scold. “You shouldn’t have driven us home. Do you have a fucking death wish or something?”
“Shut up, Dylan,” he snaps, just as I reach for the doorknob. “I told you not to call me that. I’m fine, it was a long day. We’re fine. I told you, I’ve only had a few beers. I’m fine.”
“Yeah…how many is a few?” I urge him forward, keeping my grip firm as we slip inside, silently hoping our mother is too lost in whatever bottle she’s clinging to tonight to notice.
“I don’t know, a couple before we left,” he mumbles, swaying as he tries to steady himself.
“A couple? Right. Sounds like it’s more than that.”
“Fuck off, Dylan,” he mutters, leaning heavily against the wall.
“You know…I could just let you faceplant right here. How you went from driving to barely standing is a mystery, but if you tell me to fuck off again, I’ll solve it by walking away.”
“I’m just tired, Dill.”
I huff a laugh and guide him toward his bed. As soon as he lands, he’s gone—like someone flipped a switch, his body going slack against the sheets.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep, barely lifting his head from the pillow. “Love you.”
“I know, Becks,” I say softly, tugging the blanket up over him. “Just sleep, okay? Love you too.”