𝐍𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘, 𝐍𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄 - kiara carrera²

𝒙𝒙𝒙𝒊𝒊𝒊. 𝒔𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒕

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Tatum woke up feeling sicker and drowsier than ever - seriously, this was worse than a red wine hangover. So, when a rock solid body collapsed onto her chest at seven o'clock in the morning, obviously she threw a fist at it, causing John B to cry out in pain and roll over.

Everyone else in the room was actually hungover from the wicked party they had the previous night (except Pope, of course). However, it did end with JB, JJ and Tatum crying for no reason at all. Well, John had a reason, considering he was getting an unlicensed divorce, but they were actually crying over the colour of the water. JJ was devastated when Pope broke the news that there was no such thing as a naturally pink sea.

But today was no time for crying. Because today was Tatum Quinn's seventeenth birthday, which meant one thing: the annual bonfire. Even though half the town hated her and her whole existence, Tate had always been so convinced that the bonfire was thrown for her, no matter how many time Thomas tried telling her it wasn't their birthday party. She treat it like it was anyway.

JJ Maybank, groaning and yawning with the worst hangover headache of his life, flopped down on the other side of her, a messy, pink cake on his lap, with blue icing that spelt out:

ᕼᗩᑭᑭY ᗷIᖇTᕼᗪᗩY
TᕼOᗰᗩՏ ᗩᑎᗪ TᗩTᑌᗰ

The girl frowned a little at the sight, her good morning mood draining in the slightest. It was her first birthday without her brother. They wouldn't trade guns today, they wouldn't shoot each other today, and they wouldn't secretly care about each other today.

Some days, Tatum woke up convinced all this Royal Merchant shit was nothing but a dream. Convinced she was still pining over Kie. Convinced her twin brother was still alive. Then she'd get out of bed, look in the mirror and see her dead eyes staring back at her, telling her that Thomas living was just a fantasy.

Some people say having a twin is like having a clone of yourself. Two people that are exactly the same in every way. But that's not true at all - at least, not for Tate and Tommy. Having a twin was like a whole person split into two. You thought the same things, you ate the same food, but you never felt like yourself unless they are near by.

Ever since Thomas died, Tatum had always felt like a piece of her was gone, too. Because it was. Without her twin brother, she was nothing but half a mind, half a body. Half dead.

"Hey, look at the present TJ got you," a voice spoke up as Kiara Carrera strolled into the room with the baby in her arms, a small wrapped gift clutched to his hand.

Tatum's smile returned at the sight of her baby brother being carried by the girl she loved. Even though she was hurting a little inside, she needed to stay strong for TJ - he was too young to see any negativity right now, and he'd already been exposed to too much of it. The rest of his life would be good; his big sister would make sure of that.

She opened her arms out wide to take Thomas-Joe into them, smiling over the bubbly giggle on his lips, oblivious to the type of danger he'd been put in during his short life so far. He pushed the wrapped present into her mouth, his dirty fingers still attached to the paper.

Tatum laughed, lifting her hand up to take it off her tongue before she tasted his rank baby crisps. "What did you get me, TJ?" she asked with a high-pitched, baby voice, making him giggle and clap his hands at the happy interaction.

Kiara watched from the floor with a light smile, heart pumping out of her chest, her stomach filled with gunshots and butterflies. She would love Tatum Quinn. Always. And she meant what she said last night when she was going to make sure she had the happy ending she deserved. "Show her what we made, T," she encouraged the infant with excitement.