The music inside Seaglass Haven pulsed with soft bass—something jazzy, ambient, tasteful but expensive-sounding. The scent of orchid candles mingled with sea salt breeze drifting in from the open lanai. Glasses clinked. Laughter echoed from the pool out back, where Briar Rose’s guests mingled in curated swimwear that cost more than most folks’ rent. Everything smelled like coconut sunscreen and carefully chilled rosé.
Jackson barely fit in here. His boots thudded against polished marble that didn’t forgive dust. One half of the birthday twins, teen Beau trailed behind, posture stiff in a too-new button-up shirt he hadn’t wanted to wear. The ranch dust had been brushed off them both, but Chestnut Ridge never really left their gait.
When Jackson spotted her—honey-blonde ponytail gleaming under the string lights, phone tucked under her ear—he didn’t hesitate. His heart jumped. He crossed the kitchen, wrapped his arms around her, kissed her temple with familiar ease and whispered in that drawl that hadn’t changed since he was a teen himself.
“Hey darlin’… I missed ya so much. Wanna go hide in the poolhouse so I can show ya how much?”
But she stiffened. Pulled free.
She turned. Eyes like blue glass, same shade as Jackson’s, but under heavy fake lashes, and a dress that should have come with a warning label. This wasn’t Briar Rose! This was their daughter, the other half of the birthday twins, Briony!
“Uh, lemme call you back—my dad just had a stroke or something,” she said into the phone. “Yeah, okay, later.” She hung up, blinking wide at Jackson. “Seriously dad! EEEW!”
Jackson stumbled back a step like he’d been bucked from a bronco. “Wait… What the hell, Briony Rose?! Why ya lookin’ like a grown woman in that short dress!? Who told ya it was okay to wear that in front of everybody!? Where’d ya get that outfit! Does yer mother know you are wearin’ that!?”
The music didn’t stop, but the air pulled tight.
“Mom!” Briony screeched, spotting Briar Rose gliding in from the patio in silk and seaglass elegance. “Get over here and save me! Dad lost his mind! Can you please tell your ex-husband it’s not the 1950s anymore?! Seriously, dad—SERIOUSLY!”
She stormed off, heels clicking angrily across tile.
Jackson turned, hands gesturing in disbelief. “Bri, ya can’t let our lil girl dress like that! She’s turnin’ thirteen today, not thirty! She looks like fixin’ to go work a street corner in that!”
Briar Rose’s eyes narrowed—but her face didn’t lose a trace of poise. “Jackson, do not tell me what I can or can’t allow MY daughter to wear. I’ve raised her alone in this city since she was six. For your information, I BOUGHT her that dress, because she loved it so much and wanted a cute outfit for the party.”
“YOU got her that tiny rag—? Briar Rose, I thought she was you. I almost said things… done things! That dress got no business bein’ on a little girl. ‘specially not OUR lil girl!”
“She’s a high school freshman, Jackson. In San Sequoia. She is going to an elite private school. This is how girls dress there. Especially those in our circles.”
“Well, Beau Wyatt is thirteen too, and he got bigger, sure, but I didn’t put him in no hot pants and heels!”
From behind them, Beau coughed. “Thank the lord for that, Pa.”
Bri turned around “Baby, go get you some food, daddy and I need to talk.”
“Yes Ma’am.” Beau rushed off.
Jackson paced in a tight circle, one boot squeaking against tile. “Can’t believe I mistook my own daughter for my ex-wife. Am I losin’ it? Or are all y’all drivin’ me crazy! Things I said to that lil girl …”
“Baby, relax,” Briar Rose said evenly. “Briony knows you love me and we do adult things, we haven’t been all that subtle, plus Blaine is here so there is literally no point in even trying to pretend our kids don’t know what’s up. Wrong family for all that.”
“But she’s still our lil girl, Bri. She’s grown much, sure, but she ain’t bulletproof. Ya can’t let ‘er out of the house lookin’ like a grown up!”
“Jackson, babe, seriously. It’s a PARTY outfit. She does not look like that every day. You think I am stupid?” Briar Rose stepped in closer, her voice still velvet but lined with steel. “But worrying doesn’t mean controlling, Jackson. It means trusting—and showing up. She wanted to look a certain way for HER own party, and I see nothing wrong with that. For school, she wears regular teen clothes. Got her a full new wardrobe, all stuff that would even pass your judgement.”
Jackson fell quiet, staring toward the other end of the pool where Briony now sat in a lounge chair, furiously texting. Bri noticed, gently running the back of her hand against Jackson’s cheek.
“She’ll be fine. She’s a teen, she explodes and then forgets. She loves you, even if you have warped sense of style. But you are her daddy, you came to her birthday bash and she is very happy about that.”
He looked back to Briar Rose. “I missed ya. Been gone real long this time.”
She met his gaze, slow and soft. “I know. And I missed you too. But this time it was me without cell phone coverage most of the time. But Briony had so much fun. And I liked not being alone. That was to good part about being married to Brad. He usually travelled with me. You won’t.”
“Briaaaar Roooose .. not that AGAIN!” Jackson drawled, but she slung her arms around his neck and kissed him to make him forget his grievances.
The music shifted—Ella Fitzgerald now. Outside, Beau wandered over toward his sister, handing her a sparkly mocktail cup, while holding a root beer float himself. Briony took it without looking up, then peeked over at him. The twins sat in tense silence, neon light from the pool flickering across their faces.
“I can’t believe you drink that shit. Eew!” Briony grimaced, pointing at his root beer float, the mostly molten ice cream bobbing inside.
“I can’t believe ya drink that expensive coffee with the syrup that don’t taste like no damn coffee anymore.” he retorted with a shrug, unfazed, as she took a gulp.
“Neanderthal,” she told him, so he burped right at her.
Briony recoiled dramatically, clutching her mocktail like a crucifix. “Ugh! You’re feral. I need a tetanus shot just from breathing the air near you!”
Beau grinned and wrapped one arm around her shoulders, drawing her in with a firm, brotherly tug. “Missed ya, princess. Got so damn quiet without your constant whinin’ and bitchin’.”
She rolled her eyes and pretended to gag, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into him—just enough to let him know she missed him too.
Inside, Jackson and Briar Rose stood together again. Not touching. Not yelling. Just watching the kids they somehow raised, in two different worlds.
A few seconds passed. Then Jackson said, “She’s beautiful, ya know. Looks just like her mama. Scary how much she looks jus’ like ya.”
“I know,” Briar Rose said again. “She has your eyes, Jackson. And she’s gonna break hearts by the dozen, those poor boys. But Beau too, he looks so much like you. Still the same sweet baby boy who just won’t let me dress him up nicely, always with that cowboy hat.”
The pool lights rippled faintly across their faces—Briony perched on a cushioned chaise in her mini wedge heels, Beau slouched on the lounger next to her, boots kicked off and socks mismatched like always. Their birthday drinks of choice sat sweating on the table between them, Briony’s glittering with pink umbrellas and sugared rims.
Briony sighed dramatically. “So Dad basically came onto me by accident, thought I was mom. Grossest thing that’s ever happened, and I recently saw a kid throw up off a yacht, but it only fell one deck lower. It was nasty. But dad topped that cringe.”
Beau leaned back, hands tucked behind his head. “Truth be told, I thought ya were Mama too when I walked in. Can’t blame Pa for gettin’ real confused when his daughter turns up wearin’ that short little dress like she just stepped outta one of them music videos with loud bass and heartbreak. I betcha he is thinkin’ about what Savannah and Eden gon’ look like at our age.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why is my outfit such a topic?! It’s called style, Beau. You should look into it sometime. People here actually care about aesthetics. And I’m officially a high school freshman, so I get to wear real clothes now. We don’t all wanna look like we ride horses for a living.”
Beau grinned. “I DO ride horses for a livin’, jus’ like our Pa. You oughta try it sometime. Builds character.”
Briony kicked at his lounge chair. “I know how to ride, dork! And we don’t need to build anything, Beau. You have character. Just like you have dirt. All over. All the time. Ever heard of showers? You literally ALWAYS reek of leather and horse and hay and … barn.”
“Better’n stinkin’ like ya fell in a pit of rottin’ fruit,” he drawled. “You are every bug’s dream girl, way ya stank.”
She cackled. “You’re a dumbass, that’s body spray, costs 25 bucks a bottle! But that strangely sounded like a Katy Perry song. Girl been talking shit about one of mom’s music videos on social, so I am hating now. I will always be team mom.”
They sat in silence for a beat. Somewhere inside, Briar Rose was probably smoothing everything over with Jackson using words like “growth phases” and “healthy boundaries.” Outside, things felt simpler.
“I missed you,” Briony said, softer now. “Even if you smell like a country bumpkin and act like one too. You are still my twin. Wish you would come with us sometimes. Not all the time, but … sometimes. See the beaches and jungles and pet a tiger and all.”
Beau turned his head toward her. “Missed ya too. But yer life jus’ ain’t mine. I don’t like it. Whenever mom did take me with, I always feel like I am where I ain’t s’posed to be. Same like Pa. Just ain’t our stompin’ grounds. But I am gon’ go stay with grandpa Jack for a week soon. Y’all should come.”
Another pause.
“So, a week at a tiny rustic farm in Henfordshire, with literally nothing around but grass, nothing to do, so kinda same as at dad’s ranch, but instead of endless heat and sun and dust it will be raining nonstop? Yeah, sounds great, Beau. You know what? We’re weird. We’re twins but look nothing alike, act nothing alike, sound nothing alike, have nothing in common except family, not even the same last name,” she said.
“Yup,” he nodded. “We sure are weird.”
She leaned over and swiped his root beer float, taking a dramatic sip with pinky raised. “Happy birthday, country boy. And OMG this is every bit as nasty as I thought!”
He tipped his cowboy hat with a grin, taking a gulp of her mocktail, frowning. “Right back atcha, city princess.”
Briony giggled, snatched the hat from his head, and plopped it onto her own. She struck a pose on the chaise and hollered, “YEEHAW!”
Beau burst out laughing and matched her call with a twangy echo. “YEEHAW!”
They tried to sync it, shouting in tandem and failing spectacularly—until the echoes started bouncing back from across the pool. Grandpa Jack, already halfway into a whiskey laugh, threw his own hearty “YEEHAW!” into the mix. Izzy added one in a breathy soprano. Cody, technically their uncle, but also barely older than the twins, drawled his from the edge of the diving board, arms raised like a champ.
From inside the house, the door creaked open and out stepped Jackson—boots on, beer in hand, his voice joining the chorus with an unselfconscious “YEEHAW!”
Briar Rose followed, tucked halfway beneath his arm, her own attempt at the accent landing somewhere between posh tea party and cowboy cosplay.
From the far end of the patio, a metallic creak echoed—the telltale sound of Chase Cameron’s studio door swinging open. Then came the crackle.
A long squeal burst from the speakers perched outside, followed by a deep thrumming hum that rattled the patio lanterns. Blaine stepped into the light, shirtless in neon swim trunks, holding a mic like he was headlining Coachella. He squinted at the twins, grinned wide, then cranked the volume to too much.
“YEEEEEEHAAAAWWW!”
The feedback roared across the property, sending two plastic flamingos toppling into the pool and startling a flock of seagulls off the roof.
Everyone froze—laughter caught mid-breath—until the speakers finally sputtered and died.
A beat of silence. Blank stares.
Scarlett surged forward, determined to wrestle the microphone from her rockstar husband’s grip. They tussled briefly—his grin widening, hers narrowing—until he hoisted her over his shoulder like it was just another tour stunt.
“Yeee-fuckin’-haaaaaawww! Now we’re talking!” he screamed into the mic with one final flourish before dropping carelessly dropping it and disappearing into the main house, the door slamming shut behind him like a cymbal crash.
The mic had hit the patio stone with a splintering crack. A banshee wail erupted from the speakers—part feedback, part demonic screech, part movie style apocalypse. Someone’s car alarm went off down the block. A dog started barking, cats meowing, seagulls screeching. And somewhere in the distance, the unmistakable Doppler rise of approaching sirens added themselves to the mix.
Colton sighed like a man who’d seen this movie too many times. He moved fast—slapping buttons, twisting dials, yanking a cord from its socket like he was performing an exorcism.
The speakers choked, sputtered, and finally went dead.
Then came the whoop-whoop of sirens, faint but growing louder. Tires crunching over gravel. Lights flickering against the hedges out front.
Chase Cameron, perched on a poolside lounger with a beer in hand and sunglasses on despite the hour, sighed deeply. He stood, brushed off a Dorito crumb from his faded Soundgarden tee, and walked toward the gate like a man greeting old friends.
“Ah, shit, here we go again. Thanks dad. Ain’t no Cameron party till the cops show up. Somebody keep my dad busy so he doesn’t make it worse yet,” he muttered, unbothered.
“Oh I think your dad is plenty busy with your mom now, babe.” Chase’s wife Hailey giggled with that ‘some things just never change’ look.
Briony leaned toward Beau, whispering, “You see what I mean. You and I just can’t do normal, Beau.”
Beau shrugged. “Yeah, I see yer point there.”
Inside, Jackson was holding toddler Savannah and infant Eden pressed against himself as if trying to pause time for them, while Briar Rose calmly checked her lipstick in the hallway mirror, murmuring, “It’s San Sequoia. They never arrest the beautiful people.”
Near them Jasper turned to Brad “Well, if Bri’s right, you’re fucked. Bet your soft lady lips will take you places in the slammer, Dr. Cunningham.”
“At least mine are not constantly chapped from flapping them, like yours.” Brad snapped back.
The night kept rolling—but now with flashing lights, a lecture from San Sequoia’s finest rounded off with a hefty noise disturbance fine and a birthday party nobody would soon forget.
EchoesOfLegacy 