#idyllicwrites

She glanced down at the doormat. Her pants were dripping sea water and sand all over it. Andrew watched her, expectantly. “I don’t want to–” Mina gestured at herself, “impose. You need to get to Lena. I can get a ride home.”

Andrew seemed offended by the mere suggestion. He gave her a pointed look that said, don’t move. He disappeared down the hallway, the creak of a door opening. When he came back, he had a perfectly folded T-shirt and gym shorts in his hands, and a new pair of dark jeans on. He held them out to her, eyes darting down, “Here.”

Mina gathered the clothes in her arms, but still didn’t move further into his home. “Andrew–”

“No. I’ve seen where you live. It’s not safe,” he exclaimed, a bit exasperated. Maybe, she should have been concerned by the fact he somehow narrowed down where she lived, but it barely registered. 

Something more pressing weighed on her mind. She tilted her head, pulling his clothes close to her chest for something to hold onto as she asked gently, “I don’t think this has to do with where I live… Does it?” Andrew turned away from her, showing her his profile and the way his cheek twitched in distress. His reaction answered her question. Her heartbeat picked up pace, “Who’s Smurf?”

His head snapped to her, shifting on his feet. For a second, Mina saw a glimmer of fear in his eyes before he covered it up. Whoever she was, Baz and Andrew’s life seemed to revolve around her, not because they chose it, but because it was required for survival. A fight raged inside Andrew before he answered, “She’s our mother.”

Many things clicked into place for Mina at that moment. Something deeply sinister occurred to her. Baz had asked if Smurf had sent her. Andrew replied, she’d only send a blond. Mina could be making a massive assumption, but it was clear Baz thought she was a prostitute who his mother sent to Andrew. And she would bet her mockingbird pendant that Smurf herself was blond.

Nausea rolled through her stomach, spit forming underneath her tongue. She swallowed, trying to get her bearings. Mina couldn’t even convince herself she wanted to argue with Andrew about staying. She did. She didn’t want to wait days before she could see him again when she could just stay and see him tomorrow.

However, she needed reassurance for her own peace of mind.

“I’ll stay,” she finalized. Smurf be damned. Baz be damned. She refused to let other people dictate her life again. She wanted to be near Andrew and she wasn’t going to apologize for it. If she had to fight for it, so be it. Mina was sick and tired of rolling over. However, there was one exception. “But you can’t lie to me. Ever. No half truths. No omissions. It’s the only thing I can’t overlook. I won’t go back to that. Not from someone I…care about. And it goes both ways. I won’t lie to you. Ever.”

Andrew’s hands flexed at his sides before reaching into his pocket to get his keys. He nodded. “No one tells me the truth.” Mina took that as an agreement, but it still broke her heart. Why was she the first person in his life to speak to him the way he needed? Straightforward and honest.

 “There’s coffee in the kitchen. Food. Clean sheets. Towels. No one should bother you. I’ll be back in the morning after I drop off Lena at school,” Andrew murmured, listing off all the amenities. He paused, hesitating before staring into her with an intensity that made her suck in a breath. “There’s a gun in the top drawer of the nightstand.”

It occurred to her Andrew was someone who prepared for the worst because it was the only way to have some control over uncertainty. If he thought she was in real danger, the comment about his spare gun’s whereabouts would’ve been the first thing he listed. Not stated as an afterthought, or a just-in-case. So, she took his word for gospel. No one would bother her here.

“Okay, thank you,” she replied, showing her gratitude through a small grin.

He stepped towards the door, but stopped when he came up next to her, “Use the bed. Not the couch.”

With anyone else, Mina would’ve argued. Something about this being his house and her being a guest, but Andrew clearly liked things a certain way. So, she would follow his instructions if it made him feel more comfortable with her being in his space. “Okay,” she whispered in agreement.

Andrew reached for the door handle, but a knee jerk reaction had Mina’s hand clasping onto his forearm. “If Lena ever needs…an outlet, I’d be happy to teach her how to paint. Or draw, or whatever medium she likes best. Not now, but maybe when we’re a little more than strangers.” She very well might be overstepping, but she hoped Andrew could see her offer as something genuine.

Seconds felt like minutes as Andrew played her offer over in his head. “We’re strangers?”

She huffed out a laugh, considering his question for only a moment. “No, we’re not. I already consider you a friend, but I know family can be…difficult to navigate sometimes. And I don’t want to overstep.” Mina tried to communicate as clearly as she could, because frankly, Andrew was so much more than a stranger, even after only the first night they met. 

As if circling back to her previous offer in his mind, he finally said, “I think she’d like that.”

An uncontainable smile broke out across her face as she dipped her chin in acknowledgement. If she could use her skills to help one little girl get through her day a bit easier, Mina would consider it a step towards setting things rights.

Andrew’s eyes snapped to her smiling lips before dragging back up her face. She looked towards the twitch at the corner of his mouth. Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Can I?”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he nodded anyway. A warm glow spread through her at his inherent trust. She leaned forward slowly, giving him time to pull away. When he stayed put, Mina let her lips graze his cheek, right near the corner of his mouth. The softness of his skin ignited a tingling in her body she thought was long dead.

She pulled away, his stillness persisting. With the back of her fingers, she ran them gently over the spot she kissed to wipe away any residue, or unwanted feeling, she might’ve left behind. Mina understood what it felt like to have a touch linger uncomfortably on her skin, and even though Andrew gave her permission, she didn’t want to do that to him.

The intensity of his gaze mellowed into something soft and tender, landing somewhere deep in her gut. His eyes followed every single movement she made. She tilted her head towards the door, a bit breathless. “Go. You don’t want to keep her waiting.”

The flexing of his hand made her think he wanted to reach out, but he reeled himself back. Instead, Andrew disappeared out the door, closing it softly behind him. Mina realized when she heard the revving of his truck engine, she swore she saw the beginnings of a grin tugging at his lips.

Mina glanced around his home a second time. It looked almost untouched, like no one really lived here. Maybe, that was true. Andrew didn’t seem like a person who ever stopped moving. She took a deep breath before shedding her soaked pants where she stood on the doormat, if only to avoid an unnecessary mess.

By the time she shook the sand out of the mat outside, locked up, and stepped into a steaming hot shower, Mina wondered how two days with Andrew turned into planning for a lifetime.

Mina snapped out of her daze to the sound of delighted squeals, far higher pitched than she’d gotten used to since starting work at Oceanside Elementary. She did a quick scan over her classroom, which had transformed into an artistic combat zone.

Her eyes clocked two students who weren’t melding into their respective groups. One young girl with frizzy blond hair buzzed with untamed energy. The other, a boy more interested in chatting about the lesson with his classmates who weren’t listening. Mina made a quick decision.

She wracked her brain for the students' names, still too new to the job to have remembered all of them. Eventually, they came to her through her memorization tactic. Color association. The girl always wore a headband the color of warhol. And warhol meant Winnie. The boy’s favorite T-shirt was tabasco. Travis.

Mina called out to them across the classroom, “Winnie, why don’t you switch with Travis and go with the splatter group? Take your brushes, but leave the paint. Travis, come sit at the easel.”

She conducted the kids in an orchestral symphony of chaos. Giggles and shouts of wonder filled the room. It was music to her ears. The lesson plan consisted of learning about tint, which Mrs. Calhoun deemed too advanced for fourth and fifth graders. However, she wholeheartedly disagreed.

Children were always far smarter than many adults gave them credit for, which was exactly why Mina spent her day splitting her classes into groups. 

Her quieter, more introverted kids were put at a table off in the back corner to experiment with mixing oil pastels. She had gently explained to them their objective: How does adding white affect all the different colors? How can this technique be used to create something unique?

Her more energized, extroverted students–the more aggressive ones as well–were designated to splatter and finger painting. She hung a large canvas sheet along the right wall and plastic sheets along the floor so her students could fling paint to their hearts content. Although they were a far rowdier bunch, most of them were too invested in mixing all the colors in the rainbow with white to be true disturbances. Her objective: Get them engaged. 

Ultimately, the goal was to help them expel their more negative emotions by throwing paint. Learning about tint was secondary.

The last group were her easel painters. They were the students who thrived through doing group work. Since she could only scrounge up two easels, her kids crowded around it and experimented together. They mixed and matched colors, even started to paint their fellow classmates at one point. Their objective: Work together to create as many tints of each color as you can.

“Ms. Mina,” a quiet voice interrupted her train of thought, “Can I throw the paint?”

She looked down to see a young girl with long brown hair and sad eyes. It was only her fourth day teaching and she hadn’t learned everyone’s names quite yet, but she recognized her as one of the kids she placed at the pastel table.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Mina smiled down at her before quickly grabbing a clean paint brush to hand off to her, “Here. Go crazy.”

For a moment, her brown eyes sparkled underneath all the sadness as she took the brush and walked over to the rowdy corner. Mina kicked herself for not knowing her name yet, especially since she’d been one of the kids she clocked slipping through the cracks on her first day.

She made a mental note to make sure to talk to her before the day ended.

Something about the way the girl observed her surroundings–stared at the chaos like a problem to be analyzed–was familiar. She recognized the behavior in herself, but also in Andrew. Mina almost reprimanded herself for constantly connecting everything back to him, but she couldn’t help it. He had taken up residence in her mind.

She’d been too busy with her first week of work to see him again. Although, there were moments when she swore she saw his truck pass by her apartment in the early mornings or late afternoons. It should have driven her into fight or flight, but somehow she understood. Andrew needed control and the best way to be in control was to be in the know.

It occurred to her, vaguely when she offered for him to drive to the art gallery. Subconsciously, she assumed he’d want a little bit of control over the situation, given she hadn’t been offering up any additional information. Then, the same thing happened when he had asked her to stay at his condo.

Mina knew it wasn’t some kind of move like she would’ve assumed if he was any other guy, but that was the thing. Andrew wasn’t just another guy. She realized pretty quickly something deeply fragile and unspoken resided in him. They were alike in that way, which was probably why she gravitated towards him.

Then, the morning after he asked her to stay solidified exactly who she assumed Andrew to be: a protector.

Mina rolled over, the creak of Andrew's bed an unfamiliar sound. A shock of sunlight filtered through the room, casting a ray right over her face. The back of her eyelids blazed red until she shifted her head down the pillow slightly. She took in a deep breath and held it in her chest for five... Four. Three. Two–

Her entire body went ramrod straight. A deep whoosh of air sounded somewhere across the room, almost imperceptible, but Mina heard it like the breath itself was right against her neck. Goosebumps erupted across her body in a violent shiver. 

Her eyes snapped open towards Andrew's gun resting on the nightstand right where she left it. She had pulled it out of the drawer the night before to keep it accessible, even though the walls of Andrew’s bedroom already made her feel far safer than her own apartment.

It crossed her mind, before she contemplated reaching for the gun, that whoever was in the room made a mistake. 

Why hadn’t they confiscated it while she slept?  

In an instant, Mina lurched for the gun. The cold metal of the handle bit into her palm, but it barely registered.

Within a second, she flipped the safety off and aimed it towards the source of her panic. Her chest heaved rapidly from the adrenaline coursing through her veins, but her hands remained steady. Years of growing up in unstable environments would do that.

A man perched in the wooden chair in the corner near the window. It took Mina's brain a second to catch up, but she'd recognize his posture anywhere. His outline. His being.

She immediately lowered the gun onto the bed with a dull thud, a gasp escaping her as the adrenaline fled from her body all at once. Andrew sat rigidly, facing her. It gave her a front row seat to the apologetic look of shame melting over his face. He stood slowly, taking a step towards her, but halted abruptly like he’d hit some invisible wall. 

Mina struggled to get her breathing under control and he looked about two seconds away from spiraling or fleeing, clearly not knowing how to handle the situation.

She moved the gun back to the nightstand before uttering a breathless, "When did you get back?"

Guilt made him turn his face away from her. He stood fidgeting halfway between the bed and the chair. "An hour."

She absentmindedly rubbed her fingers over her left eyebrow, a soothing gesture she'd done since childhood. It used to irritate her mother to no end because it showed weakness. Showed cracks in her mockingbird's facade.

Once her heart rate settled and her brain started working again, she slowly encouraged herself to speak up. She refused to bottle anything up with Andrew, not when he clearly craved clarity and straightforwardness. 

"Okay. Okay,” she reasoned, “It’s all right. I'm really sorry I pulled your gun on you–”

“Don’t,” Andrew’s rough voice grounded out, “I deserved it.”

She shook her head, curling her legs underneath her so she could lean towards him. “I don't mind you watching over me. I don't. But it scared me because I didn't know it was you. You don't scare me, Andrew. But when I couldn't tell it was your breathing right away– I need you to tell me. Please. Wake me up and let me know you're in the room. I'll never be upset about that. Never. Okay?"

The higher pitch in her voice sounded unnatural in her ears and she noticed too late the wetness gathering at the corner of her eyes. Andrew nodded, still not unfurling from the tension and shame. "You looked peaceful."

It wasn’t an excuse or explanation. It was an observation, but underneath it, she heard the words he wouldn’t say. 

The bags under Andrew’s eyes stood out more prominently. "You haven't slept.” Mina guessed she was making observations of his own, but she let her unspoken words disappear into the silence. “Do you want to lay down? I–I showered before getting into your bed, so everything should still be relatively clean."

He turned to her fully then, "Why are you telling me that?"

"It's your bed and I'm your guest. And you seem like someone who appreciates things being clean."

"Who doesn't like things being clean?"

Mina grinned, "Good point." Although, she could name a few. Her fingers ran over his clean, pristine sheets, “You do that a lot.”

“What?”

She studied him. “Answer everything with a question.” Her heart skipped a beat at the intensity of his gaze flicking over her. Mina took a deep breath. “I can go make us breakfast while you lay down for a little bit."

Andrew shifted his head to the right, only a half shake. He moved towards the bed, sitting on the edge stiffly. Then, so slowly as if not to jostle her, Andrew laid down on his back with his arms resting by his side. 

Mina gently followed him back down onto her side, studying his profile. Her fingers tingled with the need to trace the freckles on his face and neck. Instead, she settled for letting her eyes drag over his cheekbone, jaw, nose, and lips. Over and over again until she committed his profile to memory.

"You're not a guest." The abruptness of Andrew’s voice in the quietness of the room sent goosebumps through her body. And the sentiment settled somewhere far more dangerous.

“No?” Mina asked, breathless with the emotions trying to break free through her ribs.

Without turning towards her, Andrew reached his hand across the space between them and grabbed her hand. It was as much an answer as if he spoke it out loud.

This was the point of no return. She was either all in or she was out. And, frankly, out wasn’t an option anymore. It wasn’t an option the moment she witnessed Andrew put a gun to his temple. So, Mina found not a lick of hesitation as she bounded over the line.

Mina wrapped her free hand around his bicep, letting her head fall forward to rest against his shoulder. She drank in his closeness, the warmth of his skin, the shaky inhale he took, and the way his body eventually relaxed against her.

The point of no return.

The bell rang, cutting through the noisy classroom and interrupting her train of thought. It was fortunate timing. If her mind wandered anymore, she’d be pulling out her phone to text him again. Neither her nor Andrew were big on texting. The thread between them the last five days was filled with quick check-ins, which somehow felt genuine despite their clipped nature.

Mina caught herself smiling every time she saw a notification light up her phone because she knew it would be Andrew. It wasn’t like she had any other contact numbers in her phone or any social media, so it was easy to assume. And it occurred to her, the deeper she fell, the harder it would be to climb out if things went wrong. With what little she knew about the Cody’s, it felt inevitable. 

“All right everyone, put your brushes in the sink and gather your things from your cubbies. Line up against the wall in a single file,” Mina instructed her kids, who all immediately started rushing around the room like chickens with their heads cut off. “Leave the paint and pastels where they are!”

By the time everyone lined up with their backpacks, the room looked like a bomb went off in it. Despite the hours it would take her to clean it up, she smiled. It was the sign of a good day.

Mina untied her apron–covered with colorful paint smears–over her desk chair in the corner before walking towards the classroom door. She clapped her hands once at the front of her line of little ducklings. “Okay, buses first, then I’ll take my pickup group to the front. Yes?”

“Yes, Ms. Mina,” some of her more enthusiastic students responded in unison.

Most of the kids in her last class of the day were bus riders. So, once they got to the back of the school, about eighty percent of them peeled off to their respective buses. She watched vigilantly to make sure everyone got on safely, no stragglers. She was left with four kids, one of whom was the little girl she’d been keeping her eye on.

Mina hooked a u-turn back into the school with her last few students trailing behind. They meandered the busy halls until the double doors to the pickup and dropoff area came into view. She led her kids outside where cars were lined up bumper to bumper, waiting.

Winnie tugged on her sleeve while pointing, “That’s my mom.” Mina followed the direction she pointed in to see a mom waving at her daughter through the window of her minivan.

“All right, go ‘head,” Mina gave her permission.

Winnie started running to her mom’s parked car, backpack bigger than her bouncing against her back. Halfway to the car, Winnie turned around with a bright smile and waved enthusiastically with her whole body. “Bye, Ms. Mina!”

Her hand automatically came up and waved back, a smile so big it was starting to hurt her cheeks, “Bye, Winnie!”

Travis and another little boy found their parent’s car soon after. Their goodbyes were far more reserved but no less appreciated. Mina had a hard time understanding what Evelyn had been talking about when she said many of the students at the school were troubled. Most of them just needed a little love and someone to listen. Similar to most people.

Mina glanced to her left to see her last little girl sitting on a bench. Her eyes downcast, hair falling into her face. Mina walked towards her, sitting down next to her as the cars came and went picking up other children.

“Hey, sweetheart. Who’re you waiting for?” Mina asked, gently.

The little girl scuffed her shoe against the sidewalk, “My uncle.”

Mina nodded. “Okay, you mind if I wait with you?” 

She shook her head. Kids came and went, the mile of cars in the pickup line thinning out slowly but surely.

“So, what did you prefer doing today? Pastels or splattering?” Mina tried to make conversation, hoping to draw the little girl out of her shell a bit. She shrugged as an answer, but Mina wouldn’t give up easily. “There’s no wrong answer. You won’t hurt my feelings either way.”

The girl finally looked at her and responded with a quiet, hesitant voice. “Splattering.”

“Yeah? What about it did you like?” She coaxed. “I’ll make sure to put you in that group next time.”

“I liked throwing it as hard as I could,” the girl responded.

Mina wouldn’t have pegged her for a kid who needed to get out some aggression. Good thing she asked. Now, she could give her a proper outlet and not mistakenly keep putting her in the wrong group.

She hummed with a little chuckle, “Yeah, that was the reason I loved doing it too when I first learned.”

The little girl looked up at her with a bit of sparkle in her eyes. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Mina grinned, “One time, I splattered a little too hard and my paint brush flew out of my hand. Hit my teacher right in the face.”

Her story managed to pull a smile out of the girl, before it disappeared. “Was he mad?”

Mina tilted her head, heart squeezing a bit, but she answered earnestly. “No. Actually, if I remember correctly, he laughed harder than I did.”

Suddenly, the girl glanced over Mina’s shoulder. She stood from the bench and called out, “Hi, Uncle Pope.”

Mina’s head snapped around almost to a painful degree and she momentarily froze when she came face to face with Andrew. His hazel eyes latched onto her. She stood from the bench, looking between the little girl and Andrew. 

Pope. Uncle Pope.

That had to mean the little girl was Lena. Now it made sense why Lena’s stillness and quiet nature seemed familiar. And why she harboured some aggression and fear of other people’s anger. 

Andrew crouched down to give Lena a hug. Her heart palpitated seeing how easily he showed his niece affection. Based on what little interaction she had with Baz, Mina wouldn’t be surprised if her experience with affection started and ended with Andrew. Unless, her mom was nothing like Baz, which surely could be possible.

Mina closed the distance, finally able to process the situation. Andrew patted Lena on the back before turning to her. “You work here?”

“Mhm, I’m temporarily filling in for their art teacher,” Mina replied with a smile as she turned her gaze down to his niece, “I didn’t know I had Lena in my class though.”

Lena looked back and forth between her and Andrew before saying, “I got to throw paint today, Uncle Pope.”

Andrew raised his eyebrows with surprise and a bit of amusement, “Yeah? Did you have fun?”

To Mina’s delight, Lena nodded with enthusiasm. Her heart swelled with fondness as she said, “Nothing better than throwing a little paint at the wall.”

The corner of Andrew’s lip twitched upward, clearly just as happy to see Lena happy. Probably moreso. Lena slipped her hand into Andrew’s, “Can we get ice cream?”

“Your dad is taking you to grandma Smurf’s tonight for dinner. We can’t ruin your appetite. We’ll go tomorrow. Okay?” He replied with perfect delegation and compromise.

A spike of cold went through her at the mention of Smurf, but she covered it up before Andrew could see it. Lena nodded to his proposition. When she agreed, he turned back to her and asked, “Do you need a ride home?”

“Oh, no, but thank you. I still have a lot of cleaning up to do. It’s the price I pay for letting them throw paint all day. Completely worth it, though,” Mina replied, subconsciously running her hands over her jeans like she still had on her apron.

Lena glanced at her uncle curiously, “Do you know Ms. Mina?”

He dipped his chin, a bit hesitant, “We’re…friends.”

A brilliant smile bloomed on Mina’s face at his response. “Yes, we are.”

Silence settled over the three of them, making her realize most of the pickup area had been cleared out already. Andrew gently rested his hand on the top of Lena’s back. “Come on. Grandma Smurf’s gonna be wondering where you are,” he ushered his niece towards his car. Lena waved bye to her. 

Once she was safely tucked into the backseat–the seatbelt clicked into place and everything–Andrew walked back towards her. “I’ll pick you up later,” he stated, leaving no room for argument.

“I’m guessing there’s no use in saying I can just take the bus,” Mina replied, warmth blooming in her chest at the mere sight of him standing in front of her. Five days without seeing him was too long. A part of her knew the incessant itch to be at his side was illogical. Unhealthy. Probably destructive. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

It wouldn’t stop her from caring about Andrew. Or feeling the way she does about him so quickly.

“No,” his face tensed slightly even at the insinuation.

Heat crept into her cheeks. “I’ll see you soon then.”

The crinkling of canvas paper filled the classroom as Mina rolled up her student’s paint splatter work. For students whose only objection was to get out their energy and aggression through throwing paint, the colors and balance of negative space were stellar. They somehow managed to not end up with a large, brown blob from mixing too many colors.

Mina stored the piece in the cabinet before gathering the plastic on the floor to take home, wash, and reuse another day. By the time she stored away the rest of her student’s art pieces safely, an hour had passed and she still had to clean the paint brushes and the plastic paint palettes.

She collected them all from the easels and tables. They clattered in her arms, haphazardly performing a balancing act. Until she turned to head for the sink and a violent gasp escaped her lips as everything tumbled to the ground. Her hand flew to her chest, settling over her rapidly beating heart.

Andrew stood in the doorway of her classroom, tensed and watching. However, something was off. Untamed energy flowed off him in waves and Mina immediately narrowed in on it. The content Andrew who picked Lena up from school was nowhere to be found. So, what could’ve happened in the hour he was gone? Nothing good, apparently.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Andrew spoke out through a gritted cadence. He made a beeline for her before dropping to his knees to pick up everything she dropped.

Her brain flipped through so many avenues until an automated response came out and she reached to grab the palettes and brushes from Andrew. “Thank you…”

However, he half turned his back, essentially blocking her from grabbing anything. “Sink?”

Mina nodded, still trying to recover from the momentary panic and the bruising wave of restlessness Andrew brought into the room. The afternoon sun blazed into the room through the far windows, basking everything in a yellow glow. The juxtaposition between the warm toned color and the cool hues of Andrew’s emotions jarred Amina into a sense of urgency.

He could barely look at her.

Instead, he deposited the supplies in the sink, turned the water on, and started cleaning them with the efficiency of someone trying to lose themselves in a task they could control. His movements were frayed and edged with distress.

Mina came up beside him, placing a gentle hand on his arm, but the momentary warmth disappeared when he flinched away. Her eyebrows furrowed with pain and confusion. “Andrew, what happened?”

The question hit like a gunshot in a silent room. Andrew stayed at the sink, but the supplies were forgotten for ritualistic handwashing. The water cascaded over his hands as he rubbed at them over and over until they started turning a ruddy red.

Mina didn’t know what to do. He responded poorly to touch and she worried interrupting the cycle he was in would do more harm than good. So, that left her with one option.

“Whatever it is, we’ll work it out,” she offered quietly, hoping her words would get through to him. When they didn’t, a more desperate plea left her lips, “Please, stop. You’re hurting yourself.”

Andrew halted, head turning up from the sink. His hands remained under the water, but at least he stopped scrubbing them. Mina carefully reached around him–making sure not to touch him–and turned off the sink. Colors swirled down the drain from the paint still crusted on the palettes and brushes.

She started to gently coax him to sit down when his emotion thick voice shot through the room. “Baz told her.”

Andrew finally turned towards her, a mix of feral anger and fear rippling through him. It didn’t take Mina long to read between the lines, but she asked regardless because assumptions never got her anywhere good. “What did he tell her?”

“He told Smurf about you. Used it as a bargaining chip to get back on her good side until–” He stopped, but the vigor remained. It was clear he wanted to keep her separate from his family, for good reason she had no doubt. However, she had not seen this side of him yet. Mina knew there were many, including the violent one he tried so hard to bury.

She tilted her head to catch his eye, “Until what?”

His eyes darted around her face, debating about whether to tell her or not. “No lies,” he said under his breath before shifting his body like he was preparing for a hit. “Until he can move against her.”

Mina filed the information away. Baz wanted to move against Smurf. She would deal with that little tidbit another time. The fact she’d willingly stepped into a familial civil war concerned her far more, not that it would change anything.

Her mind quieted as it calculated all their options. The whiplash she experienced today should be studied. Mina took in a deep breath, running her fingers over her eyebrow. “How much do they know?” 

Straight to business, always the best way to muddle through a complicated situation.

"I didn't tell them," Andrew said, unable to meet her eyes.

The urge to wrap herself around him surged through her, but the only indulgence she allowed herself in that moment was a step towards him. "I know you didn't," she answered earnestly.

Andrew’s hand fidgeted against his thighs. "Whatever's out there, they'll find it. Arrest records, family, school, jobs. Smurf knows people.. She wants you at our family dinner tonight."

Shit. If Amina didn’t know better, she would’ve assumed it was a sweet gesture. Just a mother inviting her son’s friend to dinner. Nothing more, nothing less. Except that wasn’t what this was. Smurf didn’t placate, she put out feelers, marking her territory. Mina knew next to nothing about Smurf–except the little bits she overheard–but she could make an educated guess based on experience.

 Mina nodded. "Okay, then I should go through it all so you’re not thrown off." Mina had to take some of the power away from Smurf.

Andrew’s eyebrows lifted, "You don't–"

"I want to,” Mina interrupted. In a way, it was more for her to feel like she had some semblance of control over the situation. “I have nothing to hide from you."

She continued, "I was arrested when I was twenty-one under a different name. Petty crime mostly. Stealing, breaking and entering, theft. The charges were dropped. I attended CalArts. My family made an... investment in me to hold over my head later. And speaking of family... I was adopted. Amina is my birth name. I changed it back before I left for good."

Concern tightened the corner of Andrew’s lips. "If there’s anything you want to hide... Smurf'll find out." It could have easily been a threat coming from anyone else, but from him, it was a warning because he cared.

"I know.” The darkness corner of her heart throbbed painfully. Amina bit the inside of her cheek, trying to keep her emotions at bay. “There is something, but no one knows about it except me. At least, not yet. It's why I left. I’ll tell you, but I need to know what I'm walking into with your family first." She sighed, pushing the weight of her past down deep before straightening up and asking, “Is there anything I should know?”

“Baz thinks you’ll be…useful, but he has to prove it to her,” Andrew answered, a dark look in his eyes.

“And if I’m not?” Mina needed to know how far the Codys were willing to go.

The solemn look that crossed his face told her enough. The guilt. The shame. It transformed him into a little boy who didn’t know what to do. “You know what happens. It won’t be me, but it’ll be someone else.”

Mina shivered as Andrew’s past words haunted her memory.

“I hurt someone. Someone I love. I–I didn’t want to. She told me–”

She told me. Smurf used him as a weapon. 

Mina couldn’t take being separated from him, not after finding someone who understood her and the life she had lived. She tried reaching for him again. Andrew’s eyes zeroed in on her hands until they landed on his neck near the crook of his jaw. His eyes fell shut as he gave her the weight of his head, lolling forward slightly.

Her thumb ran back and forth over his jaw. “I know you wanted to keep me away from your family–”

Andrew’s eyes snapped open, wild and scared. “You don’t understand.”

“Then, explain it to me,” she urged, “Would it be worse for me to show up tonight or not come at all? They already know about me. Everything now is inevitable.”

He huffed, glassy eyes darting around her face. “You’re not supposed to be theirs. Smurf’ll want you when she finds out what you can do.” Andrew tilted his chin down, “I saw you first. You were sent to me. Not them.”

Sent. It became clear how Andrew viewed her as some omnipotent being sent to him. Usually, she would resent the sentiment. She wasn’t perfect, anything but in fact. However, he didn’t see her as some perfect being. He just saw her, flaws and all, and still wanted her by his side. 

Tears burned the back of Amina’s eyes, wanting to spill over for all the pain he had suffered at the hands of people who should love him. “There’s something you don’t understand, Andrew.” She tilted his head back up to look at her. “You’re my sign. You have this idea in your head that I can just move on and forget. That I can just walk away. I won’t. No matter how bad things get. No matter how dark. You said I was sent to you? I was. I believe that. I told you that night… I was meant to be there.”

Finally, Andrew–with his red rimmed eyes and pouting mouth–touched her. Mina quite literally sighed in relief when his hands wrapped around her waist. A part of her, the one constantly buzzing with hypervigilance, eased. Then, he leaned forward until his forehead rested against hers.

She let her body mold against his, wanting nothing more than to crawl into his skin. A smile crept onto her lips before she said, “Two fucked up peas in a pod.”

Andrew’s grip tightened on her waist, but he huffed in amusement. His warm breath brushed her lips, tingles erupting across her body.

“I couldn’t come empty handed. I was taught that’s rude.”

Mina argued for the seventh time. Baking was a stressful pastime, but it was absolutely necessary given the battlefield she was about to walk into. Her mother’s famous biscuits were just as much an offering as they were a sign of good will.

The sign of good will might be a facade, but it was all part of the game plan. The basket of biscuits sat in her lap, wrapped in the nicest piece of cloth she could find. She had to make an impression, especially since Andrew told her Smurf valued things looking a certain way.

His brothers certainly wouldn’t care, but this wasn’t about them.

“She’ll throw them away when no one’s looking,” Andrew answered as he hooked a left into a gated driveway.

The car barely came to a stop before the gate buzzed open. Immediately, Amina’s brain went into overdrive. Vehicles crowded the driveway in front of the garage. Everything from cars to jet skis. Andrew parked his jeep behind a green, older model Harvester Scout SUV. 

She looked to the left to catch a glimpse of a pool through a gate leading to the house. Suddenly, a little girl ran past, wearing a blue bathing suit. Lena. Amina’s heart settled, but only slightly. She took a deep breath in and blew it out through her nose.

One last question invaded her mind before she braved the Codys. “Should I call you Andrew or Pope?”

He turned towards her, killing the engine. A battle waged itself in his hazel eyes before something hardened. “Don’t call me Pope. I don’t care what they think.”

She wasn’t sure if that last part was true, but she grinned anyway. “Okay, then let's do this.”

He popped open his door before saying, “Stay there.”

Amina adjusted the warm basket in her lap, doing another once over of her outfit. Simple, but colorful. She went with a mauve palette this time. It was the one thing she refused to change about herself. Color intricately wove itself into every aspect of her life. Removing it would be like removing a limb.

Her car door opened, Andrew waiting for her on the other side. A light breeze swept her unbound hair to the side as she stepped out into uncertainty. Almost subconsciously, Andrew’s hand came around her back to tug gently on the ends of her hair.

The little gesture of affection made her smile, even in the midst of the chaos occupying her mind. Loud voices broke out near the pool and she went through the checklist in her head.

Lower your shoulders. Chin up. Smile with your mouth and eyes. Be sharp. Stay vigilant. Don’t let them see you bleed.

Andrew guided her through the gate and into the lion’s den.

Momentarily, her ears buzzed. It blocked out all the noise coming from the people gathered around the table and lounge chairs. Then, Andrew grazed his hand across the small of her back, quick and quiet. It settled her because it reminded her why she was here. Not to make friends or fit in, but for Andrew himself.

All the noise came back in a wave. A very tall, shirtless man ran around the pool with Lena in his arms pretending he was going to throw her in. The little girl giggled and Mina couldn’t help but notice even her laugh was subdued for a kid her age. Her eyes drifted to a lounge chair where a blond man smoked, seemingly irritated and standoffish. Craig and Deran.

Luckily, Andrew had the foresight to describe all his siblings to her in the car on the way here.

Then, there was the younger boy, watching everything like he was waiting for teeth to snap. J. Finally, her gaze gravitated towards the older woman–chin turned up, cigarette dangling from her fingers, sunglasses on. Her presence snuffed out all the air in the yard. Suffocating. She sat like the matriarch of her kingdom, at the head of the table with Baz by her side.

Smurf.

The energy shifted immediately once everyone noticed her standing next to Andrew. And it shifted hard. The hair at the back of her neck stood up on end.

Deran and Craig looked confused, eyebrows furrowed as they caught each other's eye across the pool. Not in the loop, good to know. J just looked curious. Interested, waiting for the drama to unfold. He saw more than the others. Noted.

Baz flashed her a smirk she was starting to realize was his signature, but what Amina found most interesting was the way he analyzed Smurf’s reaction out of the corner of his eye. Which brought her to the woman herself. She hadn’t moved an inch from where she lounged in her chair, smoke billowing up from her cigarette. No emotion crossed her face whatsoever.

“Ms. Mina?”

Her head snapped to the sound of her name to see Lena squirm out of Craig’s arms and run over to her. The first–and probably last–genuine smile of the night melted across her face as she looked at the little girl. Amina crouched down to Lena’s height. “Hi, sweetheart. How’re you doing? Did you get all that paint off you?”

Lena smiled with a nod, eyes darting down to the basket in her hands. “What’s that?”

Amina carefully unwrapped the goods, "Biscuits.” Lena went to reach for one, but without missing a beat, she turned to Baz first, keeping the same smile only a bit sharper. “Can she have one?”

Something tweaked in Baz, maybe a calculation or analysis came up wrong. “Sure. Go ‘head.”

Mina held out the basket for Lena, who took her time scanning every single one before picking out the one she wanted. The little girl held it in both her hands, like it was something fragile, before she whispered, “Are we going to throw paint again tomorrow?”

Despite the whispered question, Mina knew everyone heard. No one had moved since her and Andrew entered the yard. “Not tomorrow, but we will again next week. Deal?”

The girl nodded, seemingly satisfied before bounding over to Smurf and Baz. Mina stood, risking a quick glance at Andrew. His stare gentled her nerves, but set her heart into overdrive, because he was looking at her like she hung the moon in the sky just for him.

It was a dangerous look to have in a place like this, but Mina didn’t care when she believed the same of him.

Suddenly, Smurf’s voice broke the heavy silence, cooing sweetly at Andrew. “Come here, baby.”

Everyone seemed to hold their breath. The tenseness of Andrew’s body multiplied tenfold. He stalked over to Smurf without another word, but Mina clocked the hesitation.

She followed behind, but at a distance, noticing all the untouched food spread across the table. That’s when Smurf opened her arms for Andrew. She expected a hug, a kiss on the cheek at the most, but what happened was far worse. Smurf finally stood and rested her lips against her son’s.

Mina’s entire being recoiled at the sight. Disgust shooting through her gut with a vengeance. On the outside, she schooled her features into a calm, thank you for having me demeanor. Years of hiding her every emotion had prepared her for this moment exactly.

Inside, Mina screamed. She wanted to rip Andrew away from her. Make a scene.

No one else reacted, like this was a normal occurrence, which meant it probably was for as long as they remembered. The sickly intimate kiss broke and Smurf smiled. It looked like it held affection, but Mina saw it for what it was, control. Smurf had marked her territory.

“Well, aren’t you going to introduce me to your guest?” Smurf finally turned to her.

Apprehension came off Andrew in waves. So, she answered for him. “I’m Amina. Thank you for inviting me.” It wasn’t like she didn’t already know that.

Smurf hummed, with a lift of her chin. “Nice of you to join us so last minute. Sit. Let’s eat before the food gets cold.” She reached out towards the basket, “You didn’t have to do that, baby.”

Chills crept up Mina’s spine as she handed the basket over. Smurf set it right next to her on the table where no one else could reach it. Despite it all, she smiled, “Couldn’t come empty handed.”

As if summoned by Smurf’s command, everyone gathered around the table. Chairs scraped across the ground, plates clanged together as everyone served themselves. She noticed Lena go to Andrew instead of Baz. When he picked her up and set her in his lap, she thanked her lucky stars, because Lena seemed to ground Andrew in a way none of his other family could.

Andrew sat on her left with Lena, J on her right, their backs to the pool. Craig and Deran settled across from them, while Baz took the other chair at the head of the table.

“Who the hell are you?” Unsurprisingly–from the little Andrew told her–Craig broke the ice, clearly still confused.

“Long story,” Mina said, carefully putting food onto her plate. She gestured to Andrew with her head, “I’m his friend.” She didn’t think it wise to call him Andrew in front of his family yet.

“And the new art teacher at Lena’s school,” Baz interjected.

She added, “Yes, that too.”

A shit eating grin spread across Craig’s face, “Damn, Pope, where’d the hell you find her?”

Two things happened simultaneously. Andrew bristled beside her, going unnaturally still, even though he tried to reel it in for Lena’s sake. Clearly, Craig implied something she didn’t understand. And Deran unsubtly kicked Craig under the table, a severe look on his face as he glanced between his two brothers.

Craig winced, exasperated, “What–”

“Shut up, man,” Deran urged, eyeing Andrew like he was a bomb readying to explode.

Craig shook his head. “Whatever,” he turned back to her, “You want a beer? Probably need it.” He pointedly glanced at Andrew.

Any slight bit of humor she found in the situation vanished. Her eyes narrowed, smile still intact but far less warm. Craig looked taken aback by her shift in demeanor. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

This time it was J who steered the conversation away. He leaned forward slightly to look at her. “So, you’re an art teacher? How’d you get into that?”

Baz brought his beer up to his lips, watching Amina as he took a sip. When he put it down, he answered for her. “She went to CalArts. I’m wondering what someone who went to an expensive, private art school is doing teaching at an elementary school? Kind of a step down, don't ya think?"

The table went quiet. Baz's condescending smirk, spreading across his face as if calling checkmate. Internally, Amina rolled her eyes, but her outward facade remained calm if not a little calculating. "No, I don't. My expensive, private school education didn't buy me fulfillment. Teaching kids like Lena does."

She circled her response back to Lena, a subtle dig at Baz's implication about her choice in job. If he wanted to knock her down a peg, get her off balance, Mina would make him feel guilty about it. Her answer was true, but that didn't mean she couldn't make it sting.

Baz at least had the forethought to look slightly shamed, but more so impressed, which Mina didn't like. Deran picked at the label of his beer before muttering, "Goddamn mother Theresa over here. Jesus.” He picked around the food on his plate.

Before she could reply, Smurf opened her mouth and the entire mood shifted once again. With a sickly sweet smile, she answered, “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Would you, baby?”

Andrew snapped his head towards his mother, a deadly look in his eyes. As if on instinct, Mina placed her hand on his thigh. She needed him to be calm. Smurf could dig at her all she wanted. Reactions went off around the table, dominos falling into the exact places Smurf wanted.

Baz shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with Smurf’s implication, or how she handled it. Craig found something far more interesting on his plate to stare at and J watched everyone else as usual. Andrew looked about two seconds away from storming off with her in tow. Instead, he growled, “No one at this table can talk.”

She could hear a pin drop. Even Lena curled in on herself, a little closer to Andrew’s chest.

Mina didn’t let Andrew’s comment settle. She barely glanced at Smurf, instead she kept her focus on Deran and Andrew. “She’s right. I’m far from it.”

To her surprise, Deran kept the conversation up as if Smurf hadn’t spoken at all. “So, you’re not one of those rich kid assholes we got comin’ into our town, jacking up prices?”

Mina’s eyes lit up. Clearly, Deran wasn’t all that fond of Smurf if he was willing to railroad her attempt at intimidation. She shook her head. "Scholarship kid. Foster care. You know places like that eat up a good sob story.”

“Shit,” Craig leaned back in his chair with a smile, “Use it if you got it, right?”

“Might as well,” she answered, finger tracing the rim of a cup she’d never let touch her lips.

Deran glanced down the table towards Smurf before murmuring, “Can you pass me the biscuits?”

Oh, shit. Amina wanted to have the look on Smurf’s face framed and hung on her wall. The corner of Smurf’s lip twitched in an irritated smile, because it wasn’t just about eating something Mina made. It was Deran’s version of acceptance, even if it was only to piss off his mother.

Baz decided to step back into the ring while Smurf practically shoved her biscuits into Deran’s lap. He rested his elbows on the table, “That fancy degree must’ve opened a lot of doors for you.”

Ah, there’s the angle. They wanted an in. Amina’s smile sharpened. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Andrew’s fingers dig into his thigh as his gaze snapped to Baz with a vengeance, but she didn’t miss a beat. Couldn’t afford to. “More than you’d think, but less lucrative than you’d expect. Unless you step through all the right doors at the right time.”

She threw out her lure, wondering if Baz would take the bait. A smirk grew on his face, edging on the cusp of knowing. Bingo.

So, Baz was smart enough to put the pieces together and make a guess. Smart enough to know petty theft plus expensive art school could result in exactly who Mina had been: a forger. He wasn’t sure, but he was testing her.

And if he was testing her, Smurf was behind it. Mina had no doubt.

"So, are you one of those art snobs that paints a line and sells it for a shitload of money?" Craig derailed the conversation.

Mina snorted with a smile. "Hardly. Unless you count telling second graders the stick figure portraits they painted are priceless. Then, in that case, yes."

Craig and Deran both huffed out a laugh, but it wasn't enough to break the tension coming off Smurf. Outwardly, she had a calm, unbothered demeanor, but underneath it all, rot festered and it showed through the tight lipped smile on her lips.

Mina reeled back in her lure and baited it. “Actually, my family didn't...start with money. My mother built something. Actually, you remind me of her, Smurf."

"That's nice, baby," Smurf cooed, bringing her cigarette to her lips, a queen holding court. "And where is she now?"

"Dead," Amina answered without missing a beat. A wave of uncertainty fell over the group, but her eyes remained on Smurf. She grinned before adding, "Don't worry it's for the best."

Something cracked and shifted in the air, so palpable Amina swore she physically felt the ground beneath her feet shudder. With one offhanded comment, Mina established herself as a player in Smurf's game.

Was it a threat? Possibly. However, it was more of a warning. Amina survived her Smurf. And won. She could do it again. If Smurf wanted to play, Amina would meet her in hell. Not by pushing back, but by being smarter. Underestimating Smurf would be a grave mistake. Underestimating the Cody's would be worse.

She'd listen, learn. It was clear there were already rifts forming between Smurf and her boys. Deran wore distance like armour. Craig held onto aloofness like a shield. Baz was already making moves behind her back.  J blended to survive, but Mina could smell his resentment underneath it all. And Andrew constantly drowned in the version of himself everyone called Pope.

So, that's where she would start. Amina would be the wedge. The shield. The confidant. The safe place. She’d masquerade inside the truth until it burned out all the lies.

The rot inside her wriggled at the chance to grow, but Amina would manage the spread if it meant coming out on the other side of Smurf with Andrew at her side.

It was enveloped in darkness, only lit by the full moon shining through the window. The ridiculousness of the dark, long-since-dried blood stain in the middle of the carpet made her delirious. The grungy tan of the walls reminded her of the sparse walls of every room she grew up in, where she conjured up fantastical delusions to make everything seem all right.

Drops of water echoed throughout the room coming from the leaky faucet in the kitchen. She traded one shitty life for another, but at least it was hers to live. At least, she had one shitty little window overlooking the sea. Oceanside was her new beginning. She might’ve been running, but nothing had ever felt better. The faint sound of crashing waves in the distance only solidified her decision further.

And for a moment, all the screaming in her head went quiet.

Standing in the middle of her one bedroom apartment, she stared at the writing on the wall, wondering if she was a believer or cynic. Her mother’s voice rang in her head, “A good forgery is but an imitation. A great one blurs the line between true artistry and caricature. But a perfect one… Well, that’s just good business.”

She shivered at the memory. Perfection. Her life revolved around that one word for so long. It was rarely achieved, but when it was, no drug could touch that kind of high. It was addictive, and when mixed with the reward of affection, there was nothing more disastrous. It was why she stayed so long. Too afraid to do what needed to be done to leave, but also too cowardly to give up the high.

She gripped her necklace–a circlet with a hand-wrought gold mockingbird in the center taking flight. It was the only valuable thing of hers she refused to sell, a reminder and a contingency if all else failed.

Memories faded in and out of her mind, nightmares really. The blood, the screams, the money, the forgotten painting… The writing on the wall. She physically shook her head, nails biting into the flesh of her wrist to drag her back to reality. A sharp breath left her lungs, wild eyes darting around her shoebox of an apartment to find anything that could take her mind away from all the demons gnawing at her heels.

It took her less than a second for her gaze to snag on the crashing waves through the window. Only two streets away. She could make it. Her body moved before her mind could catch up. She swiped her keys off the kitchen counter and made for the door.

She ran towards the only thing powerful enough to protect her.

Pope Cody’s gun molded to his hand like it belonged there. Like there was no other life he could live that didn’t involve the violence he sowed. His fingers flexed against the handle. The low concrete wall he sat on siphoned out any warmth he had left in his body. The sound of the waves uselessly crashed in the background noise of his mind, but it couldn’t drown out Cath’s muffled screams. Couldn’t drown out the sound of his shoveling. Or Lena calling out for her mom in her sleep.

All the little details clawed their way through his head. Over and over and over again. And he couldn’t make them stop. Couldn’t make any of it stop. Forgiveness wasn’t meant for people like him. It didn’t matter if he thought Cath was hurting his family. It didn’t matter. He still killed her.

She’s talking to the cops, Andrew.

Pope shook his head, trying to derail Smurf’s voice from his head. Smurf lied.

Get out. Get out.

Amy’s body crumbled under the weight of his truth. His violence. Pope got his answer. There was no forgiveness for him in this life or the next. Her sobs echoed in his head, merging with Cath’s struggling groans and his own broken gasps for breath.

He needed it to stop. All of it.

The sharp click of his gun cocking filled the night, lost to the crashing waves. It was second nature. He didn’t even have to think. When he lifted the gun to his temple, muzzle cold against his skin, he wondered why he hadn’t done this sooner? It was easier than he thought it would be. His arm wasn’t heavy with the weight of his decision. His mind didn’t try to stop him. It was simple.

Pope’s finger moved to the trigger. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was the moonlight striking a path through the ocean. Maybe, if he had been strong enough to do just that–strike his own path–none of this would’ve happened. Things would be different, but he hadn’t and they weren’t.

“It’s too nice a night for that.”

His eyes snapped open. Pope’s whole body tensed, gun falling from his temple only to train itself momentarily on the person who interrupted him. Muscle memory was too ingrained to stop it. His head turned towards the quiet, gentle voice he heard over the wind and waves. Irritation momentarily speared through him, before he caught a better glimpse of the woman.

Pope stopped breathing, chest constricting painfully, before he choked out, “Cath?”

His whole world tilted. No. No. She was dead. He physically felt the air leave her lungs for the last time. He buried her.

The woman stepped towards him slowly until she was engulfed in his shadows. A broken sigh left him when he saw her clearly. Not Cath. For a brief second, Pope saw the way Cath's hair used to blow in the wind. He wondered if he had died and this was the beginning of his punishment. Shame tore through him as the gun in his hand clattered to the concrete next to him.

She wasn't Cath. The similarities started and ended with her hair.

“Go,” he finally responded bluntly, the rough edge to his voice leaving no room to argue.

Instead of listening, like any sane person would, she glanced at the gun resting at his side before closing the distance. Pope followed her every move until she sat down a foot away from him. Despite the distance, the proximity made him flinch. His flesh crawled, screaming at him to hide, flee, but he couldn't move.

“I’d like to sit with you for a while. If that’s all right?” She whispered, staring at him–not in fear–but in understanding.

Slowly, so slowly, she brought her hands into her lap. His eyes zeroed in on the movement immediately. She turned her palms up and clasped her fingers together. Pope half wondered if she was doing it to show him she wasn't a threat. The thought alone made his gut churn violently.

His chin dipped as his gaze ran over her in assessment. His perspective widened through his blurry vision, mind subconsciously taking her in from every possible angle. Pope committed every detail to memory–the reflective hazel of her eyes, her slender fingers, the jagged, silvery scar high on her cheekbone and temple, her brown, wavy hair, her olive skin. He studied every fidget of her fingers, every shallow breath, every blink of her eyes.

That's when he noticed the obscurity oozing off her person in waves. Once the chaos in his mind silenced, she stood out, jarringly so. Pope's eyes raked over her body with curiosity and a bit of paranoia. She had on a long sleeve, black rash guard that hung loose around her waist and hips, but was high on her neck, and black swim trunks, which were tied at her waist and fell to just above her knees. In fact, Pope was almost certain they were men’s swimtrunks because of how bulky they were.

The paranoid part of him whispered in his ear that she could be wearing a wire. Why else would a woman, alone, approach a man with a gun in the middle of the night? The logical side of his brain argued an informant would’ve just let him kill himself. He would no longer be a problem then.

“Who are you?” He asked, bluntly, his cheek involuntarily twitching.

She watched him quietly, head tilting before she answered quietly enough that Pope had to read her lips to catch it. “Are you asking for my life story? My name? Or my purpose here? Hard to tell with a question like that.”

In any other scenario, Pope would’ve assumed those words were confrontational, but the way she spoke was gentle. Genuinely curious as to which version of the answer he wanted to hear. All he could do was stare, willing her to understand he wanted to know it all. Plus, he learned from an early age that silence unnerved people, which in turn caused them to talk more.

However, she didn’t squirm under his scrutiny. Her face remained calm, unbothered. In fact, Pope’s skin tingled under her own assessing gaze. She sat up straighter, clasping and unclasping her fingers. “All of the above,” she whispered to herself before slightly turning her body towards him to answer, “I needed the noise.” She tilted her head towards the ocean, “Makes everything…quieter.”

Pope mimicked the tilting of her head to keep direct eye contact through his hooded eyes. She never flinched. Never leaned away. His eyes momentarily dropped to the necklace resting just below her collarbone. He recognized it as one of five possible birds. It was the only flashy thing on her person and even then, it wasn’t gaudy like the jewelry Smurf wore.

She shifted on the concrete, leaning towards him slightly, “It’s been–”

“You shouldn’t be out this late. Alone,” he interrupted, “Not here.” 

An abrupt sense of dread filled him at the thought of her being out here by herself. It told him one of two things from the information he’d gathered so far. She just moved to Oceanside and still didn’t understand the dangers always lurking around dark corners, or she knew she didn’t have to worry. It would explain why she barely flinched when he pointed his gun at her.

She blinked, the only sign of pause he’d seen her take, before she shrugged, “I’m not alone. You’re here.”

His face twitched again, fingers grasping onto his thighs for something to ground him, “You don’t know... What I’ve done.”

It should have scared her off. Just like Amy. It really should have, but instead of the fear he was accustomed to, there was only furrowed sincerity. “Neither do you. But I do know anyone who feels guilty enough to point a gun at their own head… Well, they’ll always be a better person than someone who feels no guilt at all.”

Pope felt like the air got sucked out of his lungs. His lips pursed trying to keep all the emotion at bay, the sting in his eyes blurring her silhouette. The way Amy crumbled at his confession not even an hour ago flashed in his mind. “You don’t know that.”

She insisted gently, “If  there’s guilt, there’s always room for forgiveness, but if there’s no belief in redemption, then you’ll never try to be better. Because why try if you’re unforgivable?” There was an edge of desperation to the way she spoke to him. In the way she declared forgiveness was for everyone, including him, like she needed him to understand.

Pope shook his head, ready to pull away. Her optimism was too bright for the things he’d done. She’d push him away just like Amy. Just like Cath. Just like them all. The rustling of clothes scraping against concrete made him snap back to attention. She scooted closer to him, catching his eye.

“I’ve been where you are, except I pulled the trigger,” a grimace passed over her face, pain crinkling the corners of her eyes. “The gun jammed. And you know what crossed my mind first?”

Pope watched her fingers fidget in her lap. The pain had to go somewhere. The silence lingered as she gathered herself. He hung on the edge of every breath she took, waiting for salvation. She reached out her hand between them until it settled on the concrete an inch from his leg, “I thought… Thank God. It would’ve been such a mess. Not: Thank God, I’m alive. Not: I’m so glad it didn’t work. Even my death– I was only concerned about how it would affect everyone else. It was jarring enough to force a perspective shift. To trick me into believing in the possibility of forgiveness.”

His hands flexed against his thighs, breaking eye contact with the mysterious woman who appeared out of thin air. An angel. The thought crossed his mind without any preamble, until he banished it. No one would send an angel to him.

The gun resting beside him whispered a lullaby into his ear. It could all be over. No Smurf. No more jobs. No more existing in this hell.

Words tumbled out of his mouth, his second confession of the night, “I hurt someone. Someone I love. I–I didn’t want to. She told me–” Pope didn’t know why he was repeating the same mistake he made with Amy, but he couldn’t hold the weight of Cath’s death anymore.

“Why?” Her voice was neutral, no indication of fear, but he still couldn’t bring himself to look at her yet.

“I thought she was hurting my family.”

The resulting silence was filled with the rhythmic crashing of the waves and the chilly ocean breeze. He counted three wave crashes before the unthinkable happened. Warmth encompassed his hand. Pope looked down sharply to see her hand grasping his, tight enough her knuckles were turning white.

His sharp gaze shot up to see watery eyes reflecting back to him in the moonlight. Tension rippled through him along with confusion. Amy’s face flashed in his mind again, but she wasn’t backing away from him. Wasn’t yelling at him to get away. All he could say was, “You’re crying.”

“Not quite,” she whispered, using her free hand to whip underneath her eyes even though a tear hadn’t fallen yet, almost like it was instinct to not let them fall at all.

Pope glanced between her hand clutching his and her face, “You’re not– You’re not scared of me.” It came out as more of a statement than a question. It fell out of him in a choked whisper.

Instead, she asked, “What’s your name?”

The answer was on the tip of his tongue, but something else spilled out, “Andrew.”

She squeezed his hand rhythmically as if rewarding him for the answer, “No, Andrew. I’m not scared of you. I’m– I think I was meant to be here tonight.”

Angel. Angel. Angel.

The tears had long since dried on Andrew’s cheeks, but he still hadn’t found the correct way to breathe. Even more so now that she was leaning closer. Close enough he could smell the essence of sunscreen and some kind of citrus wafting from her skin.

“Can you hand me your gun, please?” She asked with enough care he barely even considered what she was asking. However, once her words sunk into him, he tensed. She must have felt it because she added, “I promise I’m going to give it back. It’ll only take a second.”

His eyes darted over her face, looking for any sign of deception, but all he saw was something he barely recognized. Something rare. Honesty.

Andrew grabbed his gun, the cool, metal barrel biting into his skin. He hesitantly held the gun handle out to her. To his dismay, she gently removed her hand from his. If she was going to shoot him, he wanted her hand to stay in his. The warmth leaked out of him. Still, he watched her intently.

She turned the gun over in her hand. With too much ease to be her first or thirtieth time, she released the clip. He barely registered the movement before the sching of the bullet in the chamber ejected into her awaiting palm. Then, she removed the rest of the bullets from the clip and threw them into the sand.

She loaded the clip and handed the gun back to him, handle first. It took him a second to grab it, too busy wondering how the hell she knew her way around guns like it was second nature. Not that it was uncommon in Oceanside, but then, Andrew remembered how she reacted to having a gun pointed at her. She hadn’t flinched. Hadn’t even seemed all that surprised.

It fell into place piece by piece. Violence wasn’t a new occurrence in her life. And all Andrew could think was, that was no life for an angel.

“I know what you want to ask…” she said, as if she could read his mind. Her fingers subconsciously grazed her bird pendant, distance stretching far and wide in her eyes. It wasn’t hard for Andrew to put two and two together. Whatever life she’d lived before hung around her neck, metaphorically and physically.

Andrew tilted his head to the side in question, gaze narrowed in on her to take in as much as he could, because he could feel the night coming to an end. She turned back to him, her face far less forlorn now that she was looking at him, "That's a story for another night. I have a feeling it won't hold a candle to yours, but if you still want to hear it... Meet me here again. At noon in five days."

He nodded, a slow dip of his chin. He could do that. Andrew found he wanted nothing more than to keep hearing her talk. He refused to question why she wanted to see him again. His need to learn more–to be in her presence again–outweighed anything else. The desperation to see her again already clawed its way into his throat and she was still right beside him.

When she started to stand, Andrew panicked, a part of him afraid to be left alone with his own thoughts again. So, the first thing he could think of came out, "I want your name." Not a question. Not necessarily a demand, but something in between.

A smile pulled at her lips and Andrew found he had a hard time staring at anything else. He almost missed the beat of hesitation in her eyes before she breathed out, "Amina. But I'd really like it if you called me Mina."

Something about the way her name didn't come easily told him all he needed to know. He was certain it was her real name. It wasn't something conjured on the spot. She had to think about whether she trusted him enough to share it. To share whatever weight her name carried.

Mina wasn't scared of him. She'd seen him and hadn't balked at his darkness.

Andrew watched her walk back the way she came. She became a pinprick in the distance. His eyes burned with the effort of trying to keep her in his sights. And he swore, for a moment, a bright flash of white light encompassed her.

Angel. Angel. Angel.

Suddenly, a sharp ringing pulled him from his daze. Andrew pulled out his phone and answered without checking who it was. Whatever it was–whoever it was–he’d deal with it.

Five days. He only had to make it five days.

A skeptic is a person who, when he sees the handwriting on the wall, claims it is a forgery.

The quote no longer sat ominously. Amina’s shitty little studio apartment no longer felt all that shitty. After a lifetime of insincerity, imitations, and cynics, her view no longer felt like a glass half empty. Most of her life she was aimlessly tugged one way or another by constant commands, never allowed to think for herself, let alone choose her own path.

Now, after one night with a man she never should have met in the first place, Amina could finally read the writing on the wall. Everything she’d done–everything she’d been through–they all had led her here. This was where she was meant to be.

Everything worth something in this life had to do with people. Andrew was her sign. Her hands could help rather than deceive. She didn’t have to be Amina here. She could be Mina, her own person. Whoever she chose to be and not who they told her to be.

A good forgery is but an imitation. A great one blurs the line between true artistry and caricature. But a perfect one… Well, that’s just good business.

Her mother’s voice rang in her head, but it didn’t hold as much weight anymore. Not after Andrew. Not after she watched him shakily raise a gun to his temple. Not after she saw his red rimmed eyes, downturned lips, and complete and utter surrender to his grief and pain. She had recognized that look, intimately, and Mina couldn’t stand by and watch it happen.

The thought of abandoning him never crossed her mind, regardless of the danger she might’ve been in. Under other circumstances, she would’ve been far more cautious around someone with a gun, but with Andrew, she hadn’t been the one in danger. Once upon a time, it had been her in his place and all she had wished was for someone to tell her everything was going to be okay.

Mina never got it, but she refused to leave Andrew believing that no one cared. Because despite not knowing him, she cared.

She never liked to draw conclusions about people–especially with no evidence–but she made an educated guess about the kind of life he’d lived so far. Not to mention the ease with which he handled a gun, it was hard not to assume. They were cut from a similar cloth.

Mina fled to the ocean because it reminded her there was something more powerful than all the people in her life who harmed her. However, tonight, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had run, not only to something more ferocious, but someone far more powerful.  

The image of him was still so vivid in her mind, even after hours had passed and the sun had started to rise on a new day. His curly auburn hair, the sadness in his hazel eyes, the tenseness of his broad back and shoulders, his arms rigid at his sides. The tone of his voice had been dry and his vocal cadence unusual. It had her hanging on every word. However, the almost unnatural stillness was what had lodged itself in her chest.

Her hand reached for her mockingbird resting against her chest. It used to represent her gift of imitation, a mocking present from her mother. Her little mockingbird. Then, it was used as a threat to reel her back, because a mockingbird was always protective of their family. My mockingbird would never turn on us, would she? Then, it had been a sign of her innocence to be sold to the highest bidder. Our prettiest mockingbird.

Mina used to think her survival was a mistake of fate. It wasn’t. She was supposed to be here. Yes, she was her mother’s mockingbird. Always would be, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t learn to protect and survive in her own way. For her own people, ones she chose.

Five days. 

Five days created enough space to where Andrew could find his own will to live again. If those five days didn’t go well, he’d still have something to hold on to. That’s all she wanted to give him. Something to keep pushing him forward.

And, selfishly, Mina couldn’t imagine a world where she never saw him again.

Lena had chosen the green scrunchie today, the one Mina gave her when they went to the beach a few days ago.

“I wanna wear Ms. Mina’s.”

Andrew had paused before grabbing it, but she caught the way he grinned to himself, a little triumphant and just a bit smug. Mina loved him smug. He deserved to be after everything and it wasn’t like Baz cared whether Lena preferred spending time with her Uncle Pope over him.

Mina raised her voice slightly to be heard over her bustling classroom. “At each of your seats, there should be a piece of canvas paper. In the middle of your tables are some paints, markers, pastels, magazine clippings, and colored pencils. A little bit of everything. You are free to use any combination of them to complete your assignment today.”

Her kids slowly but surely calmed down the longer she explained their assignment.

"I want you to create your own color palette based on a place you've been or a place you've imagined. It has to be five colors and you have to be able to explain to me why each color is important to your place. Your place can be anywhere from your bedroom at home, to the playground outside, a vacation you went on, or even an imaginary land full of dragons and unicorns. Whatever you want to do is fair game.”

She continued, “You’ll do this assignment on your own and turn it in at the end of class. And don’t forget to put your name on the back before you start. Don’t want to have to do it at the end and get wet paint everywhere. All good?”

Some yeses were shouted, but mostly she clocked a lot of head nods. One of her quieter kids raised his hand, which was a new development given he rarely ever talked to anyone during class let alone asked a question in front of everyone.

“Yes, Tyrell, what’s up?” Mina coaxed gently with a smile.

The little boy with the tomato red sneakers fidgeted for a second before asking softly, “Do–How do we put the colors on the paper?”

Mina hummed, “Great question.” She tried to encourage all questions when asked, but especially for her quieter ones. “You can arrange the colors on the sheet in whatever way you want, or in whatever shape you want, as long as there are five different colors. You can do five stripes, circles, triangles, wavy lines, smiley faces. Mix and match. But try to fill the sheet as much as you can. There’re no wrong answers here. Does that answer your question?”

Tyrell nodded, eyes bright and eager. It was one of Mina’s favorite things to see. Anytime one of her students lit up with an idea, or understanding, she absolutely melted. Nothing beat it and nothing made her happier.

“All right,” Mina smiled, "Take a few minutes to close your eyes. Imagine your place and all the various colors. Pick out five important ones that your place wouldn't be the same without. And once you're ready, you can go ahead and start. Keep the volume to a dull roar, please, but go crazy!”

The sound of skittering and scraping and chatter filled the room. Swirls of apricot and cherry blossom filled her mind, each giggle and excited shout added a new tone to the palette of her classroom.

Mina knew they’d finish the assignment within ten or fifteen minutes, which left plenty of time for her to go around and ask them to tell her about their palettes. It was the perfect distraction from the rot spreading through her brain that took the shape of Ophelia. Ever since she picked the John William Waterhouse for the job, the painting had been haunting her every waking moment.

She couldn’t get the color of Davion’s blood undulating through the pool out of her mind. It was the perfect match for the flowers tucked into Ophelia’s hair. The dried, smeared blood across Andrew’s knuckles matched the color of her hair if she added a little bit of white. Everything had become Ophelia and Mina had only just started outlining the painting.

The only people who brought her relief were Lena and Andrew.

Ever since Davion, Andrew had become her shadow. Paranoia edged everything he did when it came to her. Mina wondered if he questioned what she already suspected: Smurf found Davion. She was the one who coaxed his suspicions about Mina to the surface and put a gun in his hand.

Seeing Andrew beat Davion half to death for her… It shattered Mina’s heart. And the smirk woven into Smurf’s face as she watched her weapon do exactly what she’d honed it to do, made Mina question whether she should’ve grabbed a gun and ended it all then and there. Just like she had once before.

Then, when Andrew looked up at her–rage and bloodlust palpable in his blown out pupils–she saw the precipice. Mina saw all the moments Smurf demanded violence in exchange for her love. Mina saw all the pain hidden underneath the surface, because Andrew wasn’t a killer. He was just made to believe that’s who he was born to be.

Andrew’s violence didn’t scare her. He didn’t scare her, but it hurt her to see him hurting. And Mina refused to see him tear himself apart even more for her sake.

The aftermath had been quiet. Oddly peaceful. When Andrew put the gun down, for three seconds, everything was still. Davion’s barely there wheezes and Nicky’s sniffles were the only things that could be heard.

Then, it broke.

“Help me get him in the truck,” Andrew had bluntly stated to whichever one of his brothers would listen first, “Gotta get him out of here before he wakes up again.” He had turned to J and Deran, pointedly avoiding Smurf, “Clean this up.”

And just like that, it was taken care of within a matter of hours. Mina never asked what he and Baz had done with Davion. Never asked why Andrew buried his head into her chest that night, shuddering every time her fingernails grazed his scalp. Mina had been sore the next day from how tightly his arms had been wrapped around her waist.

It was a soreness Mina had cherished because it reminded her of the night Andrew chose himself instead of Smurf. Would Davion rear his ugly head again sometime in the future? Probably, but Mina didn’t care. Not when Andrew had chosen himself.

The increased rowdiness of her classroom pulled Mina from her thoughts, informing her many of them were finishing up. Her gaze fell to Lena first, as it always does, and saw her chatting with her neighbor. Her finished palette rested on the table in front of her.

Mina made her way over.

“All right, Lena, you’re up, missy. Tell me about your place and why you chose your colors?” Mina asked, lightly.

The rest of the table remained engrossed in chatter, barely recognizing their teacher’s presence, but Lena curled in on herself with a shyness Mina hadn’t seen in a while. So, she rounded the table and crouched next to Lena’s seat to offer a bit more privacy.

Lena pushed her art towards her, chin tilted down and legs fidgeting. Mina carefully took her work in her hands like it was something fragile. Two of the colors were beautifully painted blue stripes that lined the top and bottom of the sheet–one an ocean grey and the other more of an azure. 

In between the two lines were three circles. One circle was a dark auburn she cut out of a magazine and glued on her sheet. The next circle was a sparkly gold paint that Lena seemed to mix with yellow to make it a bit brighter. And finally, there was a bubblegum pink circle colored in with a marker.

“This is beautiful,” Mina complimented genuinely, “Can you tell me more about it?”

Lena seemed a bit more confident now that she knew Mina liked her palette. She kicked her feet underneath her chair, swinging them back and forth before answering, “It’s the beach near my house.”

Mina gave Lena an encouraging smile, hoping she’d keep going. Lena pointed at the azure blue, “That’s the water when it’s sunny out.” Then, she moved her finger to the blue grey stripe, “That’s the water when it’s cloudy.”

“You did such a good job mixing those colors to get the shade and tint you wanted,” Mina replied, affectionately, “Keep going. What about the other three?”

Lena pointed at the auburn magazine clipping, “That’s Uncle Pope.”

Mina’s heart stopped, breathing coming to a dead halt, but Lena continued none the wiser. She moved on to the gold and pointed at Mina’s mockingbird pendant, “That’s you.” When she got to the pink, Lena smiled. “And that’s the ice cream truck from the beach.”

Mina didn’t know what to do with all the feelings surging through her at lightning speed. She couldn’t express herself the way she wanted to while at work, because right now, all she wanted to do was hug Lena and never let her go. Her chest squeezed an uncomfortable amount, trying and failing to keep her love from spilling out too ostentatiously–even though that’s exactly what Lena deserved.

“I love it,” Mina whispered, “so much. You have to show your uncle when he comes to pick you up today. He’s going to adore it.”

Lena smiled, her previous shyness melting away, “Can I hang it on the fridge?”

“Absolutely,” Mina replied, almost certain Baz and Lucy wouldn’t notice or ask about it anyway, but her and Andrew certainly would. “We could have it framed and hung up in your room if you wanted.”

Lean nodded eagerly, “But only after Uncle Pope sees it.”

“Of course,” Mina replied enthusiastically. She finally stood, “Okay, I have to go see what everyone else cooked up. Good job, Lena. I’m very proud of you.”

Mina had to take a second to compose herself, wiping quickly underneath her eyes, before moving on to her next student. Once she’d made her way through the rest of her students–some showing her palettes inspired by their bedrooms, the fantasy places in their minds, even her own classroom–pride for all her kids boiled over.

Each of them displaying a vulnerability she wasn’t sure would’ve been possible when Mina first started. Her heart squeezed knowing she could provide a space for them to be themselves.

By the time everything was cleaned up and all her kids were either on their respective buses or picked up out front, Andrew had been waiting in the parking lot for fifteen minutes. He leaned against his truck, arms crossed, sunglasses obscuring the warm look she knew would be in his eyes, because it was there every time he looked at his niece.

Lena’s hand remained in hers until she got one glimpse of her Uncle Pope and took off like a shot towards him. An uncontainable smile broke out across Mina’s face. Lena held her palette in one of her hands, but that didn’t stop her from hugging her uncle.

Andrew scooped Lena up into his arms, hugging her back with everything he had. He shifted her, so she could rest comfortably on his hip. Lena held out her art project to him, “Look.”

Andrew removed his sunglasses before fully taking hold of Lena’s art. Mina added a bit of context, “They had to create a color palette of a specific place today in class. You wanna tell him what you told me?”

Lena immediately delved into explaining her palette to Andrew exactly as she had to her. And Mina watched in real time as Andrew melted. He actually smiled, and not just the little grin she sometimes caught. No, it was a smile that only came out when he felt safe.

“It’s amazing,” Andrew assured her, “I never could’ve done something like that.”

Lena looked between Andrew and the art he held so delicately, like it was something sacred. “Keep it,” Lena finally said. “It’s for you.”

Andrew immediately started shaking his head, “We’ll hang it up in your room at home.”

“That’s what Ms. Mina said,” Lena mentioned.

Andrew glanced at her for a second before turning back to Lena, “Well, it’s a good idea.” He set her down in front of him, taking her backpack from her, “Come on. Get in. We’ll see how you feel when you get home.”

The little girl shrugged and quietly said, “Daddy doesn’t like my art.” Lena climbed into the back of Andrew’s truck like she hadn’t just devastated her and Andrew both.

He looked at her, furrowed brow and at a loss for words. Mina covered her mouth, trying to swallow down the ball of emotion that lodged in her throat. With a softness, Andrew leaned over Lena and buckled her in, “That’s not true. He does. He just gets busy…and forgets to tell you.”

Mina leaned her head into the car a bit, hell bent on turning her frown back into the smile. She lowered her voice conspiratorially, “Can I tell you a secret?”

Lena nodded, leaning in slightly. Mina continued, glancing over her shoulder dramatically to check if the coast is clear before turning back. “Your palette was the best one out of all my classes. No doubt about it.”

The seat squeaked as Lena sat up a bit, “Really?”

“Absolutely, but you can’t tell anyone I said that. They’ll accuse me of favoritism,” Mina replied with a teasing grin.

“Lena is your favorite,” Andrew added bluntly, catching on.

“Of course she is,” Mina said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Lena giggled, a big smile stretching across her face. Bingo. Mina pointed accusingly at Andrew, “You, mister, are sworn to secrecy. This is a trust triangle now.”

Andrew shook his head, amused. He couldn’t hide the look on his face–the one that made Mina’s breath hitch and a blush rise to her cheeks.

The ride back to Baz’s had the car filled with laughter as Lena bounced in the back seat to the grungiest, most hard rock metal Mina had ever heard. The juxtaposition between Lena’s contagious smile and the anti-establishment music had Mina laughing until she couldn’t breath. Any time she got a second of reprieve, she’d look over at Andrew and start all over again.

By the time they pulled into Baz's driveway, she and Lena were thoroughly exhausted from the day and consequent headbanging session in Andrew’s car. Mina hopped out when Andrew gathered Lena from the backseat.

In one hand she held her art and in the other she gripped onto her uncle’s hand. She looked lighter and happier–despite the tiredness drooping her shoulders–but once Mina saw Baz’s car in the driveway, she knew there was a distinct possibility things were heading downhill.

It’s why Mina decided to follow them inside instead of waiting in the car for Andrew like she usually did.

They stepped inside to a mess. Baz’s place wasn’t normally so untidy, at least not enough to the point where Andrew became twitchy. That usually was reserved for the Cody house after parties, or Deran and Craig’s places.

Baz sat at the kitchen stool, staring at his phone like he was waiting for a call to come in any minute. He barely even looked up as they came in. Lena rushed forward, hopping over some empty bags as she did.

She held up her artwork, a bright grin on her face, "Daddy, look what I made–"

"Not now, Lena," Baz clipped, barely looking at his daughter before getting up from his stool and going to the fridge. The clinking of beer bottles ripped Mina out of her stunned stupor.

She and Andrew watched helplessly as Lena deflated and withered in real time. The proud look she had melted into one of defeat and shame. Quickly, Mina closed the distance and crouched in front of her, blocking Baz from her view.

"Why don't you go change and get ready for dinner? Your Uncle and I'll see you tomorrow morning and we can hang your art together," Mina cooed gently, trying to keep Lena’s heart from breaking even more.

Lena turned around solemnly, not even bothering to answer. The second the door to her bedroom closed, Mina whirled towards Baz. She hissed low under her breath, "What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh?"

Andrew had a dazed look on his face, still staring at Lena's door like he could somehow comfort her through it. However, when his gaze snapped to Baz, if looks could kill...

"Don't start," Baz scoffed, taking a sip of his beer.

"Don't start?" Mina mimicked, incredulously, "She's your daughter. Don't you see how much you hurt her every time you blow her off like that?"

"She's right," Andrew added, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, "Lucy's not helping either."

Baz whirled around on Andrew, pointing an angry finger at him, "You're not her father, Pope! You're not even a parent. I don’t wanna hear it from you. No one is ever gonna have kids with–"

"Don't you fucking dare finish that sentence," Mina interrupted with a deadly sharp tone. She moved in between Baz and Andrew, a protective shield. Crimson painted her vision. Baz looked down at her, unflinching.

Mina continued, her voice softer but no less lethal, "Get off your high horse. If you don't want people calling you on your shit, then stop acting like a deadbeat. It doesn't take but five minutes to appreciate something your daughter made. Go fucking apologize."

A heavy silence filled the house. Her ears rang, chest heaving.

"Get out," Baz gritted out..

Andrew glanced at Lena’s room one more time before grabbing her wrist and tugging her towards the door. She didn't resist. Andrew knew Baz better than her. If it was time to go, she trusted Andrew. 

Once Mina made it to the door, she realized the warmth of Andrew at her back disappeared. She turned to see him staring down his brother.

Andrew called out, "Are you taking Lena to school tomorrow?" The pointed sarcasm came out clipped.

Baz huffed out a disbelieving laugh, but didn't answer.

Andrew walked away, leaving Baz behind, "Yeah, didn't think so."

When Mina stepped through the door and out into the open air, she took in a deep breath. Her eyes fell shut, but all she could see was Lena's small, defeated form retreating into her bedroom.

She raced to the passenger side of Andrew's truck, threw open the door and got in–cocooning herself in a bubble of silence. When Andrew followed, words started spilling out of her the minute his door thudded closed.

"I'm sorry, Andrew," she sighed, "I know it's not my place. I just couldn't. Seeing Lena like that–" Mina paused, emotion blocking her throat. "And what he almost said to you. I just got so mad. I'm sorry."

The quiet swallowed them whole until Andrew said, "He's right."

"What?" Mina whirled towards him, eyes wide.

He added, "Not about Lena."

It all clicked into place suddenly. Baz's cruel words pingponged around her brain. No one is ever gonna have a kid with you. Her heart squeezed, painfully, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Andrew tried so hard to be good and every time he did, someone always reminded him of how it'd never be enough. It was bullshit. Mina had seen the way he was with Lena. She knew without a shadow of a doubt, he'd be a good father. Not perfect, because no one could be, but he'd be better than a lot of parents she knew.

Because whatever kid he might have would know they were loved.

"Andrew, look at me," Mina coaxed. He turned, big hazel eyes slowly meeting hers. "What Baz said was bullshit. He was angry and lashed out. It isn't true. Not in the slightest."

No one is ever gonna have a kid with you.

Mina would.

The thought crossed her mind quicker than she could stop it. She buried it somewhere deep, kept it under lock and key. If she survived the inevitable implosion of the Cody family, she'd revisit it, but not now. It was a fantasy. Her fantasy. It might not even be on Andrew's radar.

"You don't lie," he finally stated. Not a question, but a reminder to himself.

"I don't," Mina affirmed, "Not to you."

Andrew ran his hands down his jean clad thighs before hastily starting the truck and pulling out of Baz's driveway. About halfway to the condo, Andrew murmured, "Okay."

Mina smiled, knowing that was his way of saying he believed her.

When Smurf stepped into a room, she made sure everyone knew. It would be considered a cardinal sin otherwise, because she had to be the center of the universe. The inner workings of her boys had to always start and end with her. And when that balance was thrown off... God help anyone who dared stepped foot in the path of Smurf Cody.

After Mina had successfully set up shop in the Cody's garage, she avoided interacting with Smurf for all of two days before the inevitable happened. Mina tried not to step foot into the house unless absolutely necessary, but that didn't matter when Smurf decided to pay her a visit anyway.

The side door of the garage squeaked open, startling Mina out of her stupor. Lily pads imprinted themselves on the back of her eyelids every time she blinked. She spent more than two hours mixing colors to get the perfect green palette for Ophelia’s background. Her eyes bled exhaustion, spirit already weary, even though she only just started.

Perfection, Mockingbird. Nothing more, nothing less. Just perfection.

When Mina stood up straight to see who entered her workspace, the room spun and her heart pounded uncomfortably against her chest. Her vision narrowed to pinpoints momentarily and her fingertips tingled with a sharp numbness.

Slowly, she plopped back down onto her stool, blinking a couple times. The faintness passed, but she was well aware of the signs of her inevitable spiral into the cost of perfection. Already, it began. It was too early. She hadn’t even made it a week in yet. And this forgery could easily take a month.

She almost flinched when she finally turned to see Smurf standing a few feet away, analyzing her with mock concern. "You all right, baby? Need some water?"

Mina would rather ram one of her paintbrushes in her eye than drink anything Smurf had touched. "No, I'm okay. Just stood up too fast," she replied, wondering what kind of mind fuck she was in for today.

Smurf circled her garage, scanning every little thing, cataloguing and calibrating. Her fingers lazily traced over the table with all Mina's paints and supplies. Mina sent up a silent prayer for Andrew to get back quicker from whatever he and Craig were doing.

"Is he treating you well?" Smurf inquired suddenly.

The question came out genuine and almost singsongy. At the mere vague mention of Andrew, Mina wanted to rip her hair out. She racked her brain for the angle.

What did Smurf have to gain? How could she twist this?

It took everything in Mina not to snap. Her fist tightened around her paintbrush until her knuckles turned white. However, outwardly, she remained calm, "Of course."

Give her as little as possible, Mockingbird.

Smurf hummed, picking up one of Mina's finer detail brushes to inspect it. "Andrew always struggled with...connecting. I was worried after what happened last time."

She casted the lure, but Mina wouldn't bite. She knew where this was going and she refused to play Smurf's game. If she wanted to go to war for control over Andrew, fine. That was her game. Mina didn’t want to control Andrew anyway, she wanted him free, but either way that threatened Smurf’s agenda.

Mina shrugged with a shake of her head and a smile, "He's great."

Give her nothing.

She had a sneaking suspicion Smurf wanted to see how much she knew about Cath. Mina wondered how far Smurf would push if she kept giving her nothing to grab onto. Exposing how much Andrew trusted her was a bad idea, so she had to choose her words carefully.

Smurf stepped closer, glancing over Mina’s shoulder at the painting, "Andrew was my first kid–"

"I thought Julia was your first?" Mina interrupted, taking a huge swing to throw Smurf off, which she knew wasn't an easy feat. However, would admitting she knew about Julia tip Smurf off to the trust between her and Andrew? 

The mention of Julia seemed to suck all the air out of the room. Smurf's mask fell momentarily, revealing a spark of wrath, before quickly covering it up. The woman smiled, nose scrunching. 

Her voice lowered to a dangerous level, "My Andrew loves a little harder than everyone else. And that can be dangerous. I don't want you getting caught up in it, baby. Not after everything you went through with Davion."

Ah. And there it is. Smurf's threat.

Mina already heavily suspected it had been Smurf who contacted Davion. It didn't take a genius to figure that out. However, she still hadn't figured out why Smurf had done it.

Was it to gather blackmail regarding her mother? Was it to gauge her influence over Andrew? Was it to hurt her or scare her away? Or all of the above.

Mina's voice hardened, "Andrew is nothing like Davion."

"No, he's far more dangerous," Smurf said, eyes darkening with a challenge. She shrugged, suddenly walking back towards the door with her signature strut, "Maybe I should be warning him about you. I'd hate for him to end up back in prison because of all your...mistakes."

Her heart sank, ears ringing. Her stomach rolled violently, causing a sharp pain to shoot through her from the lack of food.

Would she damn her own son just to get her out of the picture? Who was Mina kidding? Of course Smurf would. Anything to remain at the top with the crown on her head. Anything to remain in control.

The door to the garage slammed shut, suffocating her with thoughts of Andrew going back to prison for being mixed up with her. Sudden boiling rage had her spiking her brush against the concrete.

Smurf had finally wisened up and figured out the only way to hurt Mina–truly and wholeheartedly–was to hurt Andrew.

She ran her hands through her hair, possibilities flying through her head at a million miles a minute–each worse than the last. The chess pieces had moved drastically within the last two minutes and she couldn’t follow them anymore–or predict the best move.

It wasn't a checkmate, not yet, but the timer continued to tick and Mina didn’t know what to do. She paced until the anxious pull of Ophelia drew her back into its arms. Mina couldn’t stop. She had to keep going.

Complete the painting. Make it perfect. Show them how valuable she could be.

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

Come on, Mockingbird. It’s only perfection.

She’d figure out what to do about Smurf after she finished, because at the moment, this was all she could do.

Mina stumbled back to her stool, picked up her brush and succumbed to the madness.

However, she should’ve known Smurf would send another wave. Not even an hour into her dedication to the lily pads, the door to the garage opened again. This time, she didn’t even look up.

Her eyes burned from how long she’d kept them open. “If you want this finished before the end of the month, I suggest you all leave me be.”

The footsteps stopped right behind her. “I came to check on our investment.”

Amina rolled her eyes, instantly uncomfortable with having her back to Baz, but the pull to keep painting murmured sinfully in her ears. She kept quiet, having nothing else to offer. It was already degrading enough to be referred to as an investment.

Suddenly, a featherlight touch caressed her back and Amina flinched away violently, nearly tipping over her stool. She whirled around, stepping away to put distance between her and Baz. “What the fuck are you doing?” She hissed.

He held up his hands with an amused look, “Sorry, there was paint in your hair. Just trying to get it out.”

Amina rolled her neck, trying to get the ghost of his touch out of her mind. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Fair enough,” Baz agreed, surprisingly. No defensive bite back, no mocking joke. Just simple acknowledgement and agreement.

Why?

Her energy had long been depleted by her interaction with Smurf earlier. She didn’t have the brain power to decipher all the layers of Baz’s intentions right now.

“What’d you want, Baz?” Amina sighed out, exhaustion getting the better of her. She sat back down on the stool, against her better judgement, and picked her brush back up.

Baz’s gaze ran up and down her until she crossed her arms in front of her like a shield. Then came the charm. It locked into place like one of the masks she wore on different jobs.

"How did someone like you end up with a guy like Pope?" Baz tilted his head–a smirk that could be considered charming if it wasn’t so devious–tugged at his lips.

Amina hummed, reading between the lines. "That's a good question with a simple answer."

"Oh yeah?" Baz pushed, using the moment of silence to step closer to her, like somehow closing the distance would make this seem any less conniving. "Cause I'm thinkin' it has to be some kind of lapse in judgement." He played it off as a joke, huffing out a laugh.

Irritation already rolled through her at being interrupted. She was overstimulated from Smurf and deeply disturbed altogether. 

White hot rage simmered through her mind and body, heating up exponentially at Baz's insinuation. However, Amina took a deep breath through her noise, letting the silence linger until it felt agonizing.

Then, she replied, "Yeah. Simple enough you should already know the answer. But what I'm really curious about is how a woman like Cath ended up with a man like you? Now that's really something to wonder about."

The charming facade on Baz's face dropped in an instant and Amina soaked it up. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"It means exactly what you think it means, Baz," she replied with a dry tone, "Don't act surprised. Run back to Smurf. Tell her she should've sent Craig. At least, I can stand being in the same room as him."

Baz's deceitful charm had long since disappeared, replaced with his true face. The liar. The cheat. The manipulator. It was easy to spot because she'd been around people like him her whole life. All they ever did was take and take and take. 

They were devourers. Just like she had been. Maybe that was why she found him so distasteful. He reminded her of all the things she hated about herself.

Mockingbird, oh, mockingbird.

The barely kept anger flowing off Baz was enough to cause a small grin to tug at her lips. Her own rage at his prodding subsided a bit when she remembered who most likely sent him. Smurf would always be the devil in the details, the instigator, the master manipulator.

Mina sighed, wiping her hands on her apron. Her exhausted, muddled brain couldn't tell whether she was about to make a massive mistake. Leveling with Baz could cause one of two outcomes. He'd either run to Smurf and double down or he'd pull away from her more than he already had.

Dangerous.

"I'm sorry," Mina said sincerely, "That was uncalled for." She rolled her head back and forth, stretching out her neck after being hunched over for hours. "But if you question me and your brother again I'll nail your tongue to the wall. I’ve done worse for less."

Baz actually huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "You're unbelievable. You know that, right?"

She could have grasped onto the lightheartedness, chalked it all up to a net neutral interaction which kept her and Baz at square one. Instead, Mina pushed.

"She's never gonna want you the way she wants them," she whispered like it was a secret too big to say any louder. "Doing all this for her– To get back on her good side... You'll still be what you've always been. A tool to be disposed of when it starts questioning."

She crossed her arms over her chest, readying herself for the defensive blow in response. Baz's mask dropped. His back went straight and his head snapped around to check if the garage was still clear.

"I'm not doing any of this to get back on her good side. I like to call it, keeping up appearances."

"Doing that isn't going to get your brothers on your side when shit inevitably hits the fan. You're underestimating her influence over them.”

Baz ran a hand over his head, clearly unnerved. It was the first time Amina had ever seen him anything but composed. Even with Lena, when he lost his temper, he still held some semblance of control.

Finally, he asked, a bit quieter, “Isn’t that the same thing you’re doing? Getting us on your side. It’s much easier to get your money that way. To take what we have.”

Amina shook her head, still perplexed that he didn’t see it.

"I don't want Smurf's money. I don't want her assets. I don’t want your money. I don't want anything from any of you. The only reason I brought this job to you all in the first place was because I knew being useful would keep me alive longer than not."

He stared at her, slightly hesitant. "Smurf's Smurf, but she knows getting rid of you would be a bad move."

"I'm a threat in the same way Catherine was a threat,” Amina replied, gently, “The only difference is, Andrew is her blood. It'll be far worse for me once I become an actual problem, which I already am, in her mind, I'm sure."

"Smurf still hasn't figured out what you want. And everyone wants something. If it's not money or power..." Baz trailed off.

Interesting. 

Smurf had kept Baz out of the loop, her right hand. She’d lied to him, clearly. He cared about money and jobs, so that’s what Smurf probably implied Amina was after. 

"You're right. I want Andrew," Mina stated. Straightforward and clear.

He shook his head, "I don't believe that's all you want."

How could he not understand? Baz and his brothers talked about Andrew like he was an animal constantly on the verge of pouncing. Not even his own brother believed she could be her for him alone. Her eyebrows furrowed in anger. Andrew was his brother yet he didn't seem to know him at all.

An edge of angry sarcasm took over, "Andrew's funny. Did you know that?"

Baz’s face fell in confusion, but she barreled forward.

"He makes me laugh all the time. When was the last time you heard him make a joke? He has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met. He's attentive. Gentle. He spent two hours with me in a Home Depot paint aisle and never once complained. He loves to skateboard and swim. He loves Lena like she’s his. There’s nothing more that he wants than a loving family. Did you know that? Have you ever even asked him what he wanted?"

Her emotions rose with each passing word, getting caught up in the fray. Anger spilled out in her tone, but her glassy eyes were full of hurt for how little everyone seemed to care. Maybe she revealed too much. Maybe she had just betrayed Andrew with how much she shared, but she couldn’t help it.

How could his own brothers not understand?

"Do you even fucking care about him?" She seethed with finality.

To Baz's credit, he had the sense to look thoroughly shamed. He wiped his hand over his face, an exhale leaving him.

"Of course I do. He's my brother," Baz answered, quietly, but with a certainty that surprised her. "I wasn't sure the person you're describing survived Folsom. Pope might've made it out fine, but Andrew... That's a different story."

Her heart broke for Andrew on a daily basis, but if he ever trusted her enough to tell her what happened to him at Folsom, Mina wasn’t sure she’d survive it. She wiped under her eyes before saying, "You have to stop moving against him for Smurf. Let him in."

He leaned against the table, arms crossing. "I can't trust him when it comes to her. Her leash is too tight, but..." Baz trailed off with a pointed look.

"But?" Mina urged.

"The way Pope is with you... I'm starting to think not even Smurf could convince him to go against you."

"No, she'd just get one of you to do it,” she eyed him up pointedly to which he almost but confirmed Smurf sent him when he tilted his head as if to say, you’re not wrong. Mina continued, “Or she’d do what she did with Davion. He would've killed me eventually if Andrew hadn't stepped in. Might still."

There was an air of defeat as he sighed, "Play nice and Smurf might let you stay."

Pity crossed her face, which covered up the residual guilt because she knew what Andrew had done. Cath didn’t deserve to die. Mina knew this and she hated using her name to guide pawns in the chess match that was the Cody family. However, she would if she had to, so she planted her seed of doubt.

"You mean like she did with Cath?"

Confusion swept across Baz’s face before recognition dawned. Not another word was spoken, but the damage was done. Now, the doubt would spread. It would rot and fester until the foundation cracked and disintegrated.

Amina heard her mother’s voice in her mind. Perfection.

The first week at the Cody’s went by too slowly and too quickly all at once. Amina missed going to Andrew’s condo after work instead of immediately going to Smurf’s. She missed the little bubble her and Andrew created with Lena. She missed him.

Many nights, Mina stayed overnight to work. A part of it was nice because that meant she could avoid Smurf and anyone else for the most part. Somehow, Baz and Andrew had convinced everyone else not to throw any parties or invite anyone over that wasn’t family while she painted. It was too risky.

So, Mina saw Andrew a lot less and it made her want to crawl out of her skin. She liked to attribute the roaring headache she had to the distance building between them, even though she knew the signs.

However, an hour after the sunset, her saving grace came through the door. His silence filled the space, but she knew it was him. Her paintbrush fell from the canvas, a smile forming on her face.

“Andrew…” Mina practically sighed before even turning around to confirm.

When she finally took him in, Mina sucked in a breath. She saw him a few hours ago, but her heart leapt into her throat at the mere sight of him. The space around him seemingly bent to accommodate his presence.

“Can’t sleep?” Mina asked.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing as if to say, you know the answer to that. And she did.

Instead he said, “You should be sleeping.”

Mina moved a piece of hair out of her face that had slipped out of her braid. “Probably, but it's quiet at night. I can get more done.”

“You look tired,” he added bluntly.

“Thank you,” she deadpanned.

Andrew just turned towards his workbench, reorganizing the Gilded Pavilion’s blueprints for the umpteenth time. That’s when she caught something familiar out of the corner of her eye. She got up and walked towards him, keeping her footfalls silent. Under his arm, she spotted it.

"You read Hamlet?" Mina asked with a tinge of surprise.

Andrew turned sharply, glancing between her and the booklet, before shrugging, "Figured it'd be useful for the job."

Intrigue lit up her insides, "When did you have time to do that? I never saw you reading it." Then, she scrambled to add, "Did you like it?"

"When I couldn't sleep or when I was waiting for you and Lena after school," he answered with efficiency. "And no," Andrew deadpanned with enough bluntness to make her laugh.

The lightheartedness bled into her wary bones, feeding her starved soul. She couldn’t help herself when she gently lifted a hand to brush away a stray curl from his forehead. When he was near, the pull deep in her body to be close to him had to be answered.

"So... Shakespeare's not your thing?" She tried to hide her smile, but failed miserably.

Andrew huffed, "Is it anyone's?"

"Actually, yeah. People get degrees in it. Go to school for it. He's kinda a big deal," Mina teased, "Maybe, you just don't like Hamlet."

Andrew's nose scrunched up in the cutest, most irritated way. "Everything's corrupted."

Ah. Well, Mina understood that. If she had to guess, Andrew probably didn't love reading about something he constantly dealt with in real life on a daily basis.

"You're right," she agreed, "It is considered a tragedy, so that's par for the course."

"Is that why she died? Because it's a tragedy," Andrew asked with more bite than she expected.

Mina tilted her head, trying to read between the lines. "Ophelia?" He dipped his chin in confirmation. "She went mad. Well… They made her go mad."

"She was innocent."

"Yes,” she paused before softly adding, “It's not fair."

"Why do people enjoy reading shit like that?" His cadence slipped into the odd one he got when irritated, or confused, or both.

She gently brushed her fingers over the twitch in his cheek, "Because they don't live it everyday."

Her heart wrenched seeing the way Andrew's face fell. It wasn’t dramatic, but it was loud. She could practically see the gears turning in his head. And as each one clicked into place, the more the corners of his lips tugged downward into a pout as he tried to hide his emotions.

"But you like it and you've lived it," he finally replied, “You picked the painting.”

"I never said I liked Hamlet. I prefer Shakespeare's comedies," Mina tried to lighten the mood.

His beautiful hazel eyes darted around her face, “I’m not reading them.”

A laugh burst out of her, true and clear, “And I’ll never make you. In our house, Shakespeare’s dead to us. How ‘bout that?”

“Yeah,” Andrew nodded, a little grin on his lips that Mina wanted to kiss.

However, Ophelia called her back, looming with all the shadows of her past. And even Andrew couldn’t save her from their clutches.

Pope white knuckled his flimsy, paper coffee cup. Mina's ice coffee concoction dripped condensation all over his other hand. The cold droplets of water burned against his heated skin. The blood curdling sound of Smurf's voice filled the kitchen, and not the affectionate voice she used to draw more flies with honey.

No. Her tone was edged in sharp anger. Pope lingered in the hallway, out of sight, but close enough to hear an argument unfolding between Smurf and his brother. He stepped forward until he could just see over the top of the cabinets and down into the kitchen.

"Just do it," Smurf fired at Baz with her sharp, pointed stare. More dangerous than any claws.

"Smurf," Baz sighed, "She's not gonna go for it. Send Craig. He'll have a better chance."

She. She. Which she? Pope wondered if they were talking about Yvonne–the gallery manager at the Gilded Pavilion–but that didn't make sense. Baz wouldn't be talking so openly about Mina's job with Smurf in the first place.

Smurf tilted her head, a predatory smirk curling her lip, "He's not as...subtle as you, baby. I need my scalpel. Not my hammer."

The skin along Pope's spine crawled with realization. Amina. His Mina..

"And when Pope finds out?" Baz pushed back to his utter surprise.

Smurf shrugged, nonchalantly, continuing to cut up cubes of watermelon. "He won't. And if he does, he'll choose us. His family. Like he always does."

Something sinister passed over Baz's face while Smurf turned her back before he said, "You're playin' with fire. And Pope's not gonna just roll over. If you want her out, do it yourself. Preferably after the job is done."

Baz walked out of the kitchen, not giving Smurf another second. Pope heard Baz's footsteps grow closer, but he stayed put, only ducking behind the cabinet to stay hidden from Smurf.

His brother stalked around the corner. When his gaze caught on him, Baz halted. A silent moment of understanding passed between them. For the first time, Pope knew they were on the same page. On the same side.

Pope was finished doing Smurf's bidding. And Baz was done being her right hand.

It vaguely occurred to him that Mina probably had something to do with that. The minute she came into his life, it was like his eyes finally opened. He saw things clearly now and he understood more.

Mina translated the world for him when it became useless gibberish, but she also translated him to his brothers. Took the words he could never say, or think, right out of his head and explained them out loud.

She was his saving grace.

Baz nodded in acknowledgement before he continued his trek out the front door. As for Pope, he skirted around Smurf silently. He knew exactly where to step so as not to make a sound. He wouldn't be bogged down with having to deal with her right now.

Andrew was here for Mina.

It had been almost a week since he'd seen her last. It felt like months. Somehow scouting the gallery and tailing Yvonne both became his responsibility. Deran was too busy at the Drop and Craig had fucked off to God knows where. J was busy with school and Baz had other concerns, mainly how they were going to clean nearly a million dollars after Mina's fence sold the painting.

So, he'd been gone most of the week.

Over the last few months, Pope had gotten so used to Mina being in his life on a daily basis that he had forgotten how sparse and unbearable it had been without her.

Since Lena's school got out for Spring break, he hadn't had to drive Mina to work or pick her up. And she'd been refusing to leave the garage. Andrew thought bringing her the coffee she liked would help coax her out of the den.

Pope reached the side door to the garage, balancing both coffees in one hand. When he opened it, his stomach dropped.

Each step he took past the threshold dialed up his worry tenfold. Andrew’s eyes were immediately drawn to Mina.

Her olive skin had turned a sickly pale, hair matted and oily, sunken eyes underlined by deep bruise-like bags. However, the most concerning thing to Pope were the smeared red stains near her wrists. Small crescent shaped cuts littered both of them, open wounds from her fingernails digging in.

The food he asked Deran to drop off yesterday still rested on the workbench, completely untouched. Same with the glass of water. Pope wasn't even sure Mina had registered his presence, which told him exactly how lost she'd gotten in her own mind.

The last thing Pope noticed was the painting. The brush she held carefully applied a stroke of highlight on Ophelia’s cheek. Despite her shaking hands, Mina let out a sigh of relief like she'd done it right. Not just right. Perfectly.

"Mina," Pope called out, voice tight with concern, setting down the two coffees.

She didn't even react, like she hadn't heard him at all. The Mina he knew had completely disappeared. Sunken into a place he couldn't follow. The worry swirling in his gut turned acidic, panic settling heavy.

Anger followed not long after. Not at Mina, but at himself for letting her fall so far. He could've stopped it when he noticed her disappearing at the Pavilion the first time they visited. Could have stopped it long before that when he introduced her to his family. Pope could've stopped this.

Enough was enough.

"Amina!" He shouted one more time, hoping she'd give him anything. A look, a word, a hand gesture. Anything.

Her shoulders flinched slightly, but otherwise nothing. No acknowledgement. Instead, she dipped her brush back into her paint and leaned in.

Pope had it. He stalked forward, and with little to no effort, he bent down and threw Mina over his shoulder. Her paint brush clattering to the ground beat her reaction by nearly three seconds. 

Then, she started yelling.

"Andrew!" She gasped, "What're you doing?" She thumped his back with her fists, but Pope barely felt a thing. Relief barreled through him at her reaction, because at least she was responding.

Pope threw the side door open and hauled her kicking and screaming out towards the pool. Her shrill, cracked voice filled with a type of despair Pope was only familiar with when you stole a score from a withdrawing drug addict.

"Andrew, stop! Don't! Leave me!" Mina sobbed, clawing at his back.

Her pleas fell on deaf ears. When she continued to wilt away in front of him, he had no room to listen to an addict's words. Because that's what she was, an addict. 

He'd been surrounded by them his whole life, he knew. Mina was addicted to perfection. The only difference was, her drug didn't give her relief or any semblance of a high. 

It was just the pain and suffering of the withdrawal, because nothing and nobody could be perfect, no matter how hard they tried. Including Mina.

"Stop!" She tried to wriggle out of his grasp. He used that to his advantage.

Pope grabbed her hips, feigning like he would put her down. Then, without second guessing it, he threw her into the pool. The resulting splash followed by the silence sent shivers down his spine.

He followed her figure underneath the water, rippling making it impossible to fully see her. He steeled himself against the anger he expected when she resurfaced, but after a few seconds, Pope realized Mina wasn’t coming back up.

"Come on, Mina," Pope breathed out. When thirty seconds had passed and her blob hadn't moved, Pope rushed to the edge of the pool and dove in after her.

The water enveloped him, blocking out all the noise and cocooning him away from all the chaos. It was safe down here. The world didn't matter here. All the things he'd done disappeared.

His eyes opened, stinging a bit from the chlorine. Mina sat at the bottom of the pool, her eyes closed like she'd given up. Pope swam towards her, grabbing under her arms. He hauled her up.

When they broke the surface, Mina gasped, sputtering for breath. Pope expected her to push him away, to start shouting, but the anger never came. Instead, Mina turned around and threw her arms around his neck.

She clung to him as the first sobs broke out of her chest. She buried her face in his neck, choking on her hyperventilated cries. Andrew held her, keeping her close even as he got them to the shallower end of the pool.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Mina cried to him, "I thought–thought it’d be different this time. Thought I could handle it. I’m sorry. Please. Don't let me end up like her."

Andrew ran one of his hands down the back of her head over and over again, trying to soothe her. He knew, without asking, who she was talking about. He filled in the blanks.

Don't let her become like Ophelia. Don't let her go mad.

"It's okay. It's okay," Andrew uttered into her ear, "I won't. You're not her."

Deran chose that moment to come rushing in from the driveway, probably drawn by the yelling. "What the hell happened?" He exclaimed, rapidly making his way over to the steps of the pool.

"She hasn't eaten or slept," Andrew growled, biting back at Deran even though he knew his brother only wanted to help. However, he didn't want Deran–or anyone else–to see Mina like this.

"What? Why?" Deran urged, incredulously.

Mina grew weaker in Andrew's arms by the minute, shoving aside any of his wishes to hide her condition. He maneuvered her until his arms settled under her back and knees. Then, Andrew walked to the steps of the pool and got him and Mina out.

He looked to his younger brother, panic taking hold. Mina groaned faintly as if in pain. It snapped him out of his head. "Get a towel and one of Craig's protein bars in the kitchen." When Deran hesitated with a concerned look furrowing his eyebrows, Pope yelled, "Now!"

Deran moved at his command, disappearing back into the house without another word, but he still noticed the worried frown. Andrew turned his attention back to Mina, whose eyes had slipped shut. He shook her gently, "Mina. Open your eyes. Come on."

When her head lolled back against his shoulder, Pope roared, "Deran!"

He didn't wait for a reply before he hurried to his truck. Thunderous footsteps followed close behind him. Pope's voice cracked, "She's– She's not waking up."

Pope looked up, vision blurry around the edges, to see both Deran and Craig. Stress and fear covered up by rigid demeanors.

Deran pushed past him and threw open the back door of his truck. He laid the towel down over the seats. "Get in," Deran gestured hurriedly, "We're goin' to the hospital. I'll drive. You stay with her, Pope."

Craig hopped into the passenger seat and Deran held his arms out so Pope could transfer Mina more efficiently. A brief moment of hesitation washed over him until he remembered the way Deran had welcomed Mina first. The way he silently stood up for her against Smurf when he ate her biscuits that first dinner. The way Mina grinned when Deran teased her like a brother.

Pope nodded and carefully placed her into Deran's awaiting arms. Then, Pope hoisted himself into the back of his truck. Careful to not bump her head, Deran maneuvered Mina into his lap. Pope gathered her to his chest, making sure her head didn’t roll back too far and compromise her neck.

Pope traced all the features on Mina's face that mapped her exhaustion. Every single one screamed at him. He failed her. Why didn't he intervene sooner?

The car lurched as Deran hightailed it out of the driveway. Why did he let this happen? This was his fault. He pulled her into his family. She had escaped, a clean slate, and he had reeled her back in. Pope knew and he did it anyway because he was selfish.

Mina remained limp in his arms. If she wasn't all right, nothing would stop Pope from going right back to where he was the night they met.

Mina's consciousness stirred before her body. Sterile antiseptic hit her nostrils with a vengeance. The scratchy sheets draped too lightly over her body caused her skin to buzz uncomfortably. Then, the voices registered.

Two familiar voices murmured in low tones. Mina racked her slow processing brain for names until they came back: Deran and Craig. For whatever reason, the back and forth lulled her into a sense of security, but one question repeated over and over again. 

Where was Andrew?

"He's losin' his shit..." Craig replied to something she hadn't heard.

Deran clipped, "He's fine."

"You're in denial, man."

"What'd you wanna do? Hm? Wanna tell Pope he's too fuckin' attached? Wanna tell him he needs to get some distance?" Deran whisper-yelled back. "He's just like this."

"Not like this," Craig emphasized, "If somethin' actually serious happened to her... I don't think he'd come back from that."

A heavy silence fell over the room before Deran replied, a bit softer like he wasn't sure if he meant to be heard, "We'll keep an eye out."

"And if Smurf gets involved?" Craig questioned with a bite.

There was a shift in the room as Deran said, "She already is."

Craig started incredulously, "What's that supposed to–"

The door to the room opened with a click and goosebumps rose along Mina's arms. She knew immediately who entered. Mina fought her heavy eyelids, needing nothing more than to see him. Hear his voice telling her it would be all right.

If she couldn't open her eyes, she'd use her voice. Her tongue formed the shape of his name, but what came out sounded more like a groan. She knew he heard because the shuffling in the room stopped. Then, footsteps echoed across the tile until they stopped at her side.

"Andrew…" Mina tried again, her parched throat cracking loud in the room.

Craig responded first, "How the hell did she know–"

"Shut up, Craig," Deran cut him off.

Despite the ache in her body, undoubtedly from the lack of food, water, and sleep, a grin tugged on Mina's lips. Andrew's presence loomed over her, his tender voice floated towards her, "I'm here."

Her eyelids and limbs were too heavy, weighed down by the exhaustion still trying its damndest to pull her under. Somehow, someway, Mina cracked open her eyes, relieved to see the fluorescent lights in the hospital room were switched off. She followed the sound of Andrew's voice. Her head tilted to the left and there he stood in all his glory.

Curly auburn hair, clenched jaw, tensed shoulders, and enough concern in his eyes to make guilt well up in her gut. Mina turned her hand palm up on the bed. Andrew's eyes flicked down to the movement.

When his hand engulfed hers, the first tear fell. "I'm sorry," Mina croaked, "I'll finish it. I promis–"

"Stop," Andrew urged, "You can't cry. You're dehydrated."

A laugh that sounded more like a cracked groan escaped her, but the guilt remained heavy. This wasn't supposed to happen. Mina thought she'd been hiding it well. So many times before she had to scrape herself off the ground only to recover alone. 

Her finished products were all that mattered. If her health got sacrificed in the process…oh well.

Now, she had pushed it too far and Andrew witnessed the depths of her madness. He squeezed her hand, pulling her out of her spiral before it could continue. "I don't care about the painting." He swallowed thickly, his voice rough, "Don't do that again."

The conviction alone could've had her accepting almost anything, but it was the fear that really did Mina in. She could see it in the way he had a hard time looking at her. She had heard it in the way he had roared Deran's name back at the house, like he had been calling for his little brother to tell him what to do.

"Okay," Mina whispered. She couldn't promise anything, but she'd try. She'd always try for him.

It was like he could read her mind because he added, "You don't have a choice anyway."

Mina wondered how fucked up her psyche could be to cause the relief that barreled through her at his words. A part of her liked knowing Andrew would take some of the weight of her recovery off her shoulders. She wouldn't have to bear the burden alone.

An uncomfortable noise came from over in the corner of the room followed by a cough trying to cover it up. Deran spoke up, "We're gonna step out."

She understood how what Andrew said could sound odd from the outside, but Deran and Craig didn't understand. It wasn't about controlling her, it was about controlling the outcome. Andrew wanted to make sure this never happened again.

Mina turned her gaze towards the two brothers who helped Andrew get her here. Before they could leave through the door, she croaked out, "Thank you."

They both nodded like what they had done didn't mean anything, but she knew that was just the Cody way of acknowledging something a bit too heavy. The door closed with a click behind them.

She ran her thumb back and forth over the bruised skin of Andrew's hand, comforted by his presence alone. "Okay," she finally answered again, reassuring him, "As long as you don't make yourself sick making sure I don't pull another Ophelia." She tried for a joke, but it landed awkwardly given the circumstances.

"Not funny," Andrew deadpanned.

Her nose scrunched, "Kinda funny. Shakespeare would've laughed."

"He's dead."

"Yes, very dead," Mina agreed, "He's rolling in his grave."

Andrew leaned over her suddenly until all she could see was his face. His hazel eyes darted around her face somehow both hard and tender all at once. "You're not her."

The back of her eyes burned, "I know."

He repeated with a wobble in his voice, "Don't do that again."

Loved. 

No one ever cared about her more than the forgeries she could create. Waves of color flowed through her at the realization–colors so vivid and perfectly blended.

All she could think was, she had to paint it.

"I won't."

The blaring alarm echoed through the garage, bouncing off all the metal and concrete with an aggressive tone. Deran turned it off before she could even turn around. "Times up," he said into the quiet of the room.

Mina straightened up on her stool, fingers tightening around her paintbrush before almost forcefully setting it down on the table. She stretched her arms up over her head, letting her eyes fall closed so she could block out the uncompleted bit of Ophelia's nose.

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not deaf, Deran," Mina rose from her stool and turned around, walking towards the younger Cody brother.

Deran had switched out with Craig on her Andrew-Cody-mandated-watch-shifts nearly an hour and a half ago. Besides Andrew, Deran was the easiest to deal with. At least he didn't make her do dance breaks under the guise of getting her blood flowing like Craig.

He handed her an unwrapped protein bar, which she already knew tasted more like sawdust than actual food, but it kept her mind clear and energy up. So, she choked them down without complaint.

Once she'd taken a couple of bites, Deran held out her ridiculously large, sixty-four ounce water bottle. Andrew got it for her in her favorite lavender, which perfectly matched her scrunchie. The gift came with silent instructions: drink more.

Mina took a couple of sips before saying, "You gotta have better things to do than watch me paint for two hours. Doesn't your bar need you or something?"

"Nope," Deran stared simply, popping the p. 

"I promise I'll continue adhering to my scheduled breaks even if you're not here," Mina tried again. She hated being a burden. 

When she agreed to Andrew's, you don't have a choice anyway, she thought the weight of her perfectionism would only be shared with him. Not also two of his brothers and his nephew. 

Andrew had scheduled watch shifts like he was planning a job, meticulous and thorough. To his credit, he scheduled the longest shifts for himself, especially on weekdays when he took Mina to and from work.

Deran shook his head with an irritating little grin, "Nope."

Mina sighed, taking down another few gulps of water while stretching her limbs. She wiped away the baby hairs curling at her temples, deciding to redo her braid.

Deran gestured for her water bottle and she hefted it back into his arms so he could put it back on the table. While she rebraided her hair, he rounded her to take a look at the painting. His hand came up to scratch at his beard, "How's it goin' anyway?"

Mina stretched her fingers, trying not to look at the blasted thing during her break. "It's coming along. Should be only another couple days."

"Couple days?" Deran asked, "Looks finished already."

Mina shook her head, "Still need to add the highlights to her face and the lily pads. And don't even get me started on the signature..."

Deran analyzed the painting again. He ran a hand down the back of his neck, "You're good."

She paused, taken aback. Then, a smile crossed her face, "Wow, was that a compliment?”

"Don't make it a thing," he huffed, finally turning back to her.

"Too late."

He plopped down on her stool, "Clearly." Deran nodded his head towards something behind her, “And that?”

She turned to see her little side project resting on the table underneath a beige sheet. Mina shifted on her feet, “It’s a gift and a surprise. So, zip it.”

“For Pope?” Deran questioned with raised eyebrows.

“Who else?” Mina teased.

He shrugged, nonchalantly, “I don’t know. Maybe Smurf’s growin’ on ya.”

She scoffed, “Funny.”

“I try,” Deran said with a shit eating grin.

Comfortable silence settled, but suddenly a question popped into Mina's head and once it took hold she couldn't stop it from coming out. "How's Andrew? I know I haven't made anything easier. With everything, the job, Smurf breathing down his neck... I just– Is he all right?"

It was a genuine question, but she snuck in a hard truth about Smurf to see how Deran would react. To her surprise, he took in a deep breath, barely acknowledging the dig. "Pope's Pope, you know. He'll make it through. Always does."

"He carries a lot," Mina answered honestly, an ache squeezing her chest, "I didn't want him to have to carry me too. I was the one who was supposed–" She cut herself off, knowing she'd gone too far.

Deran looked at her like something clicked for him. He glanced back at the painting, rolling his lips, before asking, "How'd you meet him anyway?"

The air seemed to get sucked out of the room as she remembered that night. She opened her mouth to answer vaguely when the side door to the garage opened. Andrew stepped over the threshold. Mina couldn't hold back her smile despite the sharp turn in her conversation with Deran.

Even Andrew seemed to notice the heaviness of the room. "What's goin' on?" He asked suspiciously, eyeing his brother.

Deran shook his head like he was about to respond, nothing, but Mina refused to lie to Andrew. So, she answered truthfully, "Your brother asked me how we met."

Recognition dawned in Andrew's eyes before they narrowed slightly, "Did you tell him?"

Mina shook her head, "It's your story to tell. Not mine."

Deran watched the interaction with raised eyebrows, and a bit of astonishment, like truth was a rare bird he'd never witnessed in the wild. The beautiful, soft look she loved made an appearance on Andrew's face. She wanted nothing more than to kiss him silly.

He acknowledged Deran, but made it clear that the story was his alone by his silence. Then, he took a step towards her, "Did you eat?"

"Yes," she answered and nodded her head towards Deran, "He was a witness."

To her surprise and joy, Andrew nodded at Deran in thanks. An awkwardness and uncomfortably brewed between the brothers at a simple show of gratitude and affection. It made Mina so sad, knowing Smurf did this to them.

Suddenly, Deran stood from her stool, eyes on the ground. He gestured towards the door, "I got some stuff to take care of at the bar. So, I'm gonna..."

Mina knew he had jackshit to do at the bar, but she smiled anyway because the Cody brothers were communicating. Badly and practically wordless, but it was something. They were coming together in spite of Smurf and her manipulation.

"Thank you," Mina called out as Deran walked out the door. She only saw his hand wave her off before he disappeared entirely.

The second the door closed, Mina walked into Andrew's chest, craving the comfort and safety he brought her. His hands engulfed her cheeks, tilting her head up to look at him. Inspecting.

She turned her head to kiss the palm of his hand before saying, "Only a couple more days of this. Then, no more watch shifts or shitty protein bars."

"They're good for you," he stated, matter-of-factly.

"My body, sure, but my spirit is choking on sawdust."

He paused, hands tensing against her jaw, "You made a joke."

Her eyebrows furrowed, "I make lots of jokes."

"You stopped."

Her face fell, realizing what he was getting at. "I know. But I'm better now...because of you."

Mina realized pretty early on in whatever kind of relationship she and Andrew shared, when he didn’t acknowledge something she said, a lot of times that meant it made him uncomfortable. Or he didn’t feel the need to add anything. 

However, from the way he couldn’t quite look her in the eye, she knew it was the former.

His hands fell from her face, but he stayed close. "Did you eat lunch?"

The infamous Andrew Cody blunt redirect.

She’d get him to acknowledge her gratitude one day. Mina just had to keep working on it, slowly and surely.

"Yes, Craig and I made sandwiches with J. I cut mine into triangles and proceeded to be berated." Andrew's eyes darkened, but she smiled and kissed his cheek, "Not literally. They were just teasing. It was...fun. I never had siblings and I always wanted them."

"You see my brothers as your brothers?" Andrew swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing.

Mina's brow furrowed, "Of course. I care about them like family, because they're your family."

"And Smurf?"

She stiffened slightly and Andrew clearly noticed. "She told me you were dangerous. Threatened me in that vague way she does," Mina murmured. His head fell, anger tightening the muscles in his body. However, Mina continued, "I told her to fuck off. Not in those exact words but... She doesn't deserve you, Andrew. Any of you. It makes me sick knowing what she's done. You deserve better."

She reiterated it, pointedly, hoping he'd take her word as gospel. Andrew pulled back slightly, not leaving her entirely but it was enough of a difference to notice. "What if I don't?"

"You do," she said, a hardened edge to her voice, "Don't let anyone make you believe otherwise."

Andrew pulled away, shutting down the topic. She needed to draw him out of his head before he went into an even darker place. “How’s Lena?” Mina asked, quickly.

He nodded, slowly, like he was resurfacing from a fog. “Good,” he murmured, “She misses you.”

Mina smiled, “Well, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. I absolutely won’t let it go to my head.” Warmth spread through her chest before she added, “I miss her too. And you.”

Andrew tilted his head, “I’m right here.”

She shrugged, but what she was about to admit was anything but casual. “I mean… I miss our routine. This job has thrown everything off. I just– I miss spending time with you.”

This time, Andrew closed the distance between them. He gently wrapped his arms around her and she immediately melted. His head came down to her shoulder, nuzzling her just like she loved. A breath of relief left her.

“Only a couple more days,” Andrew reiterated.

Mina glanced over his shoulder, eyes scanning her work table until they landed on the beige sheet covering her little side project. A grin tugged at her lips when she remembered what rested underneath it.

She knew telling Andrew her gratitude for what he’d done for her made him uncomfortable, but she wondered, what if she showed him instead? It would remain secret until she finished it, but with each passing day, it got harder and harder to hide from him.

He was always around and her affection for him felt like it grew tenfold every single day. It was getting impossible to hold in her body any longer, so Mina painted it. Got it down on a canvas.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Andrew lifted his head from her shoulder and asked, “Did you eat dinner?”

Mina could’ve burst at his worry for her, but instead she just happily replied, “Not yet.”

"Aren't gifts supposed to be an after it's done thing?" Andrew asked, eyeing the neatly wrapped canvas suspiciously.

Today was the day. Nearly a month in the making. Today was the day. And Mina had wanted nothing more than to go home. Andrew’s condo. She was finally free from Smurf’s God forsaken house. Free from Ophelia. Free from perfection.

In this moment, nothing stood between her and Andrew but the sound of the muted waves crashing on the beach outside.

Mina tilted her head with a teasing smile, "Are you superstitious, Andrew?"

"No," he answered a bit defensively.

She shook her head with a giggle, but didn't push him anymore especially with a job hanging over their heads. "It has nothing to do with the job. I just happened to finish it and couldn't wait. Open it."

"Impatient," Andrew tutted with a pointed look, but carefully started unwrapping her gift. It was small, nothing over the top, but it meant everything to Mina.

Once Andrew unwrapped it, he stared for an uncomfortable amount of time. His eyes darted around the canvas taking it all in with an intensity only he was somehow capable of.

Insecurity bubbled up her throat before she could catch it and shove it back down, "I know it's not your usual...choice of decor, but–"

"It's beautiful," Andrew interrupted her, without looking away from her painting. He cradled it in his hands with such care. "You painted this?"

Mina nodded, biting her lower lip to keep from spilling her guts. She couldn't distract him an hour before a job. Instead, she nodded and said, "It was the only thing that kept me sane after..."

She trailed off, but Andrew finally looked up. "Wasn't Craig's dancing?"

Mina was momentarily stunned before a laugh burst from her lips. Andrew made a joke. He joked and before a job nonetheless. When everyone made it such a point to tell her he could be intense the closer a job got, and here he was joking. 

Mina's heart soared.

"No, all that got me was a pulled hamstring," she replied, giddily.

A smile tugged up the corners of Andrew's lips. Then, his attention fell back to the painting. Mina closed the distance, wrapping her arms around his middle and rested her chin on his shoulder so she could look over Andrew's shoulder.

The slight shift of his body back into hers had her smiling and placing a kiss on his shoulder. Her painting swirled behind her eyelids, not as a memory of what she already painted, but as a feeling she made into a physical piece of art.

The best way she could describe it was the arc and bend of the aurora borealis mixed with the bend and flow of an ocean wave. Royal glimmer, berry patch, bonny belle, nomadic desert, butterum, altar wine. Each color was its own story. Its own bubbled piece of sea foam or fractured piece of light in the painting of her mind.

Each color took hours to mix, days, but Mina hadn't been worried. Not an ounce of stress entered her body despite the painstaking process of trying to match a color to the ones she sees in her head.

Perfection never once crossed her mind. Perfection was for forgeries. Mina didn't have to be perfect when it came to Andrew.

Suddenly, he walked out of the circle of her arms and disappeared down the hall, leaving her standing in the middle of their living room. She curled her arms around herself, trying to preserve his warmth. Mina waited for him with a dopey smile on her face.

Soft clanging filled the room when he returned. He still had her painting in one hand, like he didn't want to let it go. Grasped in his other hand, he had his tool bag.

Andrew set his bag on the floor and took out his hammer, a level, and a box of nails. She smiled at the precise way he lined them up on the coffee table. If it was anyone else, Mina would've offered to help, but she knew Andrew liked doing things his own way. So, she sat back, perfectly content to just watch him.

With a perfectionism that rivaled her own, Andrew hung her painting in the middle of the living room wall. It would be the first thing someone saw when they walked through the door.

When Andrew finished putting his tools away and cleaning the coffee table where he put them down, he came to stand in front of her. Mina stepped into him, drawn like a moth to a flame. Her arms wrapped around his neck and Andrew's head fell to her shoulder.

"Thank you," Mina whispered.

He scoffed, "Think you got this backwards."

"No," she insisted, "Thank you for making this feel like a home."

Andrew nuzzled into her neck. Her scalp started to tingle when she felt him playing with the ends of her hair. He murmured, "Never felt like that 'til you got here."

The Gilded Pavilion looked different in the late afternoon. When Mina had stepped foot inside it for the first time, she had Andrew at her side and an unmanageable weight on her shoulders to secure a job. 

Now, Mina could recognize all the little cracks in the Pavilion. It used its pretentious nature to cover up its lackluster collection. No wonder Yvonne couldn't find a full time archivist.

The dimmed lighting, coffee stand, and lounge couches near the front of the gallery were all ways to hide the lack of art altogether. The Waterhouse must've been a hail Mary purchase, hoping it would bring in a certain clientele.

Mina saw the same mistakes made by these high-end galleries time and time again. They wanted to attract old money donors, but art prospered when it gave back to the community around it. She always advocated for a section of a gallery to be exclusive to local artists. 

Art shows to fundraise for the community never hurt either. Lower ticket prices for locals on certain days of the week.

Art was for everyone. Not only the ones who could afford it.

Mina's heels clicked against the dark tile floor, steady and sure. The mask she wore was a simple one and it should be easy enough to pull off with Baz doing all the heavy lifting.

Each step of her job meticulously rolled through her head. Nothing would be left to chance. If Yvonne swung right, Mina would be there to divert. For her, this was the easy part.

Baz walked beside her, arm in arm to create a perfect facade for Yvonne. He stopped in front of the lounge area, a fake painted smile on his face when he turned towards her. He leaned in so he could keep his voice low. "Are they all this fucking overblown?"

"No," Mina replied simply, "This one just caters to a certain crowd."

"If I remember correctly, bloodhounds is the word you used," Baz replied.

"Ah, so you do listen. Shocking," Mina deadpanned.

Baz's laugh echoed through the empty gallery, given it was now closed. "Just a pretty face to you, huh?"

Her nose scrunched in disgust, "No. That's Craig."

Clearly amused, Baz tilted his head, "And Pope?"

Mina wasted no time in answering earnestly, making sure she held his gaze, "He's everything."

There was a brief pause before he huffed like he didn't believe her. Mina couldn't care less what Baz believed. It only mattered what Andrew believed, what she believed.

Baz changed the subject by tugging her towards one of the couches, but Mina stopped him. "No, it's better to be standing when she comes to greet us."

Baz's eyebrows raised, "Why?"

"I want her to see us close. She likes the challenge," Mina repositioned herself so Baz was the first person Yvonne would see when she came out of the office.

"You mean she likes stealing people's boyfriends," Baz stated bluntly.

Mina hummed and added, "For the love of the game. When we were in college, she liked to see how many of our professor’s marriages she could ruin by the end of semester."

Baz shook his head, “Jesus… And?”

“By our second year, she had two divorces under her belt and one separation,” Mina listed out Yvonne’s statistics like a sports analyst. 

It made it easier to think about it that way. Otherwise Mina would get too wrapped up in wondering what kind of trauma Yvonne endured to believe her only value was in stealing men. Men who should’ve known better than to indulge an eighteen year old girl who clearly needed help. 

"I get why you didn't want Pope. He wouldn't know what to do with that."

The truth of the matter sunk heavily in her heart. Their hushed voices bounced around the eerily quiet gallery. Baz had it wrong. Andrew would’ve done fine. It was her who couldn’t handle it.

Mina rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, "If I would've brought Andrew, this would've been over before it even started. Yvonne would've loved him. No wooing necessary." Baz looked at her half amused and half suspicious. “You may find it hard to believe, but if it had been Andrew, it wouldn’t have only been about the steal. She would’ve genuinely liked him.” 

Some kind of epiphany happened as realization dawned on his face, and she knew she’d said too much. To Baz of all people.

Right in the nick of time, heel clicks echoed through the gallery with purpose. They bounced off the deep maroon walls, each driving a sharpness through her brain. Baz moved closer to her, hand settling on the small of her back. He leaned down so his mouth was right next to her ear.

"You're gonna actually have to look like you like me for this to work. Fix your face," Baz murmured before taking his time straightening up.

A cold chill went up Mina's spine at his touch. Her skin crawled, but she took exactly two seconds to fix her face. She imagined it was Andrew's hand. Imagined he was the one crowding her. Imagined the warm breath on her neck was his.

Come on, Mockingbird. Get it together. Shift. Morph. Be what the target needs.

Mina turned in Baz's arms with a bright, lovestruck smile on her face. Yvonne stopped short, her platinum blond hair glistening in the warm light of the gallery. Her ice blue eyes swept across the pair of them in a matter of moments. When she clocked the blush on Mina's cheeks, Yvonne shifted from one heel to the other.

Then, her eyes snagged on Baz. They rested on his charming smile a second too long. Mina knew immediately they were in.

She walked forward, letting her hand fall into Baz's to pull him along. "Yvonne, it's so great to see you. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us." She turned to Baz, gazing up at him the way she always looked at Andrew. "This is Steven, the archivist I was telling you about. He has experience working with the Waterhouse collection in Chicago."

Yvonne roved her eyes over Baz like the rent was due. Game on. 

To his credit, Baz did a great job of playing up the attention he gave her while also sneaking sly looks over toward Yvonne. It was the equivalent of laying out a trail of treats to a trapdoor.

"Steven, so nice to meet you. Our humble, little gallery is lucky to have you," Yvonne's words were dipped in her honeyed French accent. She fluttered her lashes before even gracing Mina with a look. "Selina, you're a vision. You didn't tell me your–" She paused, pointedly glancing between the two of you.

"Boyfriend," Mina supplied, further adding fuel to the fire, "We met at an exhibition in San Francisco a few months ago."

"Oh," a sharp smile spread across Yvonne's face, "So, this is new?"

"Yes," Mina forced herself to giggle lightly, willing the infatuation to shine through her eyes. "We're gallery hopping and I thought it would be perfect to bring him here–"

"The Waterhouse, of course," Yvonne interrupted, clearly through with talking to her.

Baz smoothly stepped in, "If you don't mind, I'd love to see it. We had his 1889 Ophelia in Chicago. Something about it... It was always my favorite."

Yvonne smirked, "I think I could arrange a little...private showing."

And exactly on schedule, almost too good to be true, Mina's phone rang loudly. She nearly flinched from how abrasive the volume was, but it had been necessary to grab Yvonne's attention.

She pulled her phone out of her too expensive purse and made a show of frowning down at the caller ID. "Sorry, I have to take this," Mina apologized with feigned profusion. She walked away, only far enough so Yvonne couldn’t hear the person on the other end.

She answered quickly, "Andy?"

Her Andrew huffed on the other end of the line, "How's it goin'?"

Hearing his voice quieted her mind. It took everything in her to keep the frown plastered on her face. The uncomfortable memory of Baz’s hand on her back slowly faded.

"I told you it was fine," Mina raised her pitch, "Where did you move it?"

"We're in place," he responded, knowing the information she needed despite the faked, one sided conversation.

"To the green room!" Mina practically shouted, pinching the bridge of her nose, "The humidity is way too high. You're going to ruin the collection. I don't– Who told you to do that?"

Andrew lowered his voice, "I'll see you soon."

"I can't believe this. I'm coming. Don't do anything stupid," Mina finalized, insides warmed from just hearing him. 

Before she hung up, she heard Craig say, "I think that last one was for us." Mina hung up before she couldn't hold back her laugh.

Her face melted into an apology before she turned back around to meet Yvonne and Baz. "I'm so sorry, honey. I have to go. Andy decided to destroy my entire exhibit on my night off it seems. Yvonne, is it all right if we resched–"

Yvonne stepped in immediately, exactly as Mina expected, "I can still show him the Waterhouse. You go. Can't have some amateur ruining your hard work. I'll take care of everything."

Mina looked to Baz, pouting a bit, "Is that all right with you? I don't want to ruin your night too."

"Of course," he nodded her off with a smile, "Go. I'll meet you at the hotel when we're done."

"Okay," Mina sighed in relief and to really sell it, she quickly kissed Baz on the cheek, "Have fun. I expect to hear all about it."

The smirk that spread across Baz's face was genuine. Mina turned with a final goodbye and rushed out of the gallery. The warm air wrapped around her, the final tendrils of the sun’s rays bleeding across the sky. She kept up the facade until she peeled out of the parking lot in her boosted Audi R8. 

Immediately, Mina called Andrew back. He picked up on the first ring. "I'm out," she informed him through a relieved sigh.

"Good," he answered with blunt proficiency, "We'll meet you in an hour."

"Be safe," Mina rushed out before he could hang up.

The line went silent momentarily before he replied, "We will."

Then, the call went dead.

It was almost too easy and it made Pope's skin itch. Where was the other shoe?

Baz and Mina did their job. The painting was exactly where she said it would be, on a large workbench table in the back archival room of the gallery. Almost a million dollars sat on the table ripe for the taking. Baz left the archival room door unlocked, and he and Yvonne were nowhere to be found. If Pope had to guess, they were busy in the office upstairs.

J took care of the cameras outside by placing them on a temporary loop for an hour. And for whatever idiotic reason, there weren’t any in the archival room. However, Pope insisted they still wore masks just in case.

Pope threw a thick dark blanket over the table to minimize the sound of removing the frame. All four of them took a separate corner of the painting and flipped it carefully. He analyzed the back, making sure he could replicate it when he had to put it back together. There were eight clasps evenly spaced around the frame to hold in the painting.

He started at the top right corner, the angle of the clasp was pointing towards eight o’clock. “Eight,” Pope said out loud, quietly under his breath. J nodded, writing it down on his arm with a marker, while Craig and Deran hauled in Mina’s forgery.

Pope went around clockwise to each clasp, listing the direction. “Three. Five. Eleven.”

Once J had gotten all eight written down, Pope got to work. He removed all the clasps, careful not to damage any of them. Then, he removed the back of the frame, handing it to J who got it out of the way. 

Craig and Deran gently ran their gloved hands along the sides of the painting, finding the best grip before lifting it straight up and out. They carefully wrapped it in a thick blanket to hide it, but also to make sure it wasn’t damaged in the transfer. And just like that, the real Waterhouse was out of the frame and out of the building. 

Pope and J were the only two who remained. They lifted Mina’s forgery and flipped it so it was facing down. They momentarily hovered it over the frame before setting it gently inside.

The perfect fit.

J passed him the back of the frame, which he laid over the canvas. Then, Pope got to work on the clasp. J rolled up his sleeve, listing off the numbers again. “Eight, two, five…”

The numbers already flowed through Pope’s mind because he’d memorized them the minute he saw them.

That’s when a muffled female voice sounded through the front of the gallery, followed by Baz’s familiar laugh. Pope’s heart rate picked up, but he kept working. And to his nephew’s credit, J didn’t flinch.

When he slid the last clasp into place, they lifted the painting and flipped it back over. J swiped the blanket out from underneath it before they set it down. Without any words spoken, Pope nodded his head towards the door. J disappeared through it a second later with a bag of unnecessary tools Pope insisted on bringing just in case, and the sound proofing blanket.

Baz and Yvonne’s voices were getting closer, but he took his last couple of seconds to recenter the painting on the table. Like they were never there. His eyes scanned the room one last time, checking to see if his brothers left anything behind.

When nothing stood out, Pope bolted for the archival door. His gloved hand turned the lock before he silently closed it behind him and disappeared into the darkened night.

Craig and Deran stepped out of the truck, grinning like the cats who ate the canary.

"Where's Andrew?" Amina asked immediately, punctuating her question by slamming the truck door closed. She had returned the Audi R8 from where Craig boosted it–no one none the wiser–and picked up Andrew’s truck to drive to the meet point.

The dark clearing suffocated her senses despite the moon lighting it up.

Panic welled up in the back of Mina’s throat, her brain trying to tell her Craig and Deran wouldn't be so happy if something had gone wrong. Gravel crunched as a used station wagon pulled up carrying Baz and J. However, Andrew wasn't in sight.

"Let’s go!" Craig exclaimed with a howl towards the moon. He turned to her like she would return his excitement, but all he was met with was a blank stare.

Her patience frayed and snapped, "Where the fuck is Andrew?"

The question cut through the excitement like a shot going off. Even Baz and J raised their eyebrows as they got out of the car to join them.

"Jesus, relax," Craig rolled his eyes, "Really know how to kill the mood."

"He's coming," Deran added quickly, like he was trying to make up for his brother's lack of awareness, "We got separated."

Her insides recoiled. The job wasn't perfect. It wasn't perfect. She wasn't perfect. Something had gone wrong. "What do you mean you got separated? He was supposed to be in the truck with you."

"Sometimes you have to improvise," Baz added, but he watched her too carefully for how nonchalantly he commented.

"Come on. Lighten up. We got it," Craig exclaimed again, clearly frustrated no one was celebrating with him.

Amina's sharp eyes snapped to Craig, voice and demeanor cold as ice. "I don't give a fuck about the painting. Get it out of here. I’ll wait for your brother."

They all looked between each other with a range of wide eyes and raised eyebrows, but it was J who spoke. "He's fine. Nothing went wrong. He wanted to stay back to make sure Yvonne left the gallery without any hitches... You know, like we were never there."

The genuine tone in his voice shocked Amina enough to momentarily halt her panic spiral. "He's fine," she reiterated.

"He's fine," J repeated with a nod.

As if on cue, the crunch of tires on gravel sounded in the near distance. Amina's body went ramrod straight. The brothers clutched for the handles of their guns instinctively. Then, a generic looking sedan sped around the corner and came to a halt behind the semi truck. The car barely shut off before Andrew stepped out.

He almost blended into the darkness with his black leather gloves and hoodie still on from the job, but Amina recognized the silhouette of him immediately.

"Took you long enough, man. Your girl ‘bout bit our heads off," Craig shouted across the clearing.

Your girl.

The breath Amina let out painfully squeezed her chest, the relief so overwhelming it made her eyes water. Logically, she knew she was being overdramatic, but nothing about this situation felt safe without him. And now, he was here. She could see him and he was safe.

Andrew's eyes never strayed from her, not even to glance at the truck with almost a million dollar payout in the back, or to his brothers or nephew. His hands flexed at his sides, like he could only wait for the moment to break.

Mina's feet moved before her mind caught up. What started as a walk turned into a run. Everything around her blurred and fell away. When she collided with Andrew, her arms came around his neck and her head fell to his shoulder in a grand display of relief. And as if it wasn't already obvious to everyone else, the shuttering sigh that escaped her was proof enough of her easing.

Andrew didn't so much as stumble. He remained a stoic wall, too stunned to move as his mind whirled and processed. Mina could practically hear all the thoughts firing through his mind. His arms hesitantly bracketed her back, locking her in place against his chest like a safeguard.

It seemed whatever had caused him pause–most likely his brothers witnessing their affection–he found it to be less important than comforting her.

"I was worried," she whispered so only he could hear.

"Why?" He questioned with genuine confusion, "Everything went right."

"You weren't on the truck," Mina pulled away so she could see his face, "And I thought the worst."

Andrew's cheek twitched in agitation, "I'm not going back."

To prison. Mina knew that's what he meant and it terrified her to think he would rather die than go back. It wasn't what she was referring to, but it hurt far more than thinking he just got caught. Not just hurt, unimaginable.

Mina soothed the twitch in his cheek with her thumb, "I know."

Andrew glanced over her shoulder, head ducking a bit when he undoubtedly found his brothers staring. "Why were you yelling at Craig?"

She scoffed under her breath, "I thought they left you behind. I was livid."

The corner of Andrew's lip twitched upward and it nearly took Mina's breath away. Suddenly, he took a deep breath. Deep enough that his chest expanded into hers. His gaze was still downturned, but a silent question sucked all the air out of the space between them when his hazel eyes lifted to her lips.

It was his way of asking for permission, clearly learning from her always asking. Something about it stoked an already raging fire inside her.

Mina nodded eagerly, a breathless smile taking over her face. She had waited so long for this. Something in Andrew shifted. Any sheepishness he had displayed melted away into a dark, hooded look of need, like he wanted to devour her.

She closed the distance herself, lips colliding with his. The itch to constantly be close to him momentarily went quiet. To her surprise, the way Andrew kissed her wasn't rough or desperate–although she was certain that side of him existed. His soft lips moved against hers with such care and tenderness it made tears spring into her eyes.

The kiss had dusty violet rays with streaks of aspen gold flashing behind her eyes. From his look to his kiss, Andrew was a walking contradiction. And she loved both sides.

Loved. Love. 

Mina loved Andrew.

Maybe the realization should have been shocking, but it remained a truth she somehow already knew existed. Because Mina was quite sure she had loved Andrew the minute she met him.

"All right lovebirds, let's wrap this up so we can get the hell out of here," Baz's voice interrupted their solitude. However, it didn't wipe the smile off her face.

All Mina could think was...finally.

"Meet you back home?" She asked him, both of them still a bit breathless. And Andrew hadn't taken his eyes off her lips yet, biting his bottom lip.

She knew the Cody ritual of meeting back at Smurf’s, but Mina refused to partake.

He shook his head, "No." With some effort on his part, Andrew detached himself from her and locked eyes with J. He threw him the keys to the car he drove up in, "You know what to do."

J nodded, catching the keys, "Got it."

Andrew guided her to his truck, clearly intending for them to ride back home together, skipping Smurf’s entirely. His condo. Their home. Not Smurf’s. Craig and Deran hopped back into the truck and followed J out of the clearing after he peeled out first.

Her fingers grazed her lips, still tingling from where Andrew kissed the life back into her. His hand grazed the small of her back, causing shivers to erupt alongside the aching need to be close to him again.

"Amina."

She whirled around to see Baz still standing by his car. Something unrecognizable etched itself onto his face. She grazed Andrew's shoulder with her fingers before saying, "Give me one second."

He watched her like a hawk as she passed him and went up to Baz. He searched her face for the answer to some question he silently posed. He shook his head, incredulously, "You really don't care, do you?"

Mina's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Care about what?"

"The money," he answered.

"No," she tilted her head with a quick glance over her shoulder at Andrew, "Never did."

Baz dipped his chin in acknowledgement, toeing the dirt with his boot and twirling the keys around his finger. When he finally looked back up, he only glanced at his brother. "Good," was the only reply Baz gave before hopping back into his car and speeding off.

He left a cloud of dust in his wake and a squeezing feeling in her chest, because for a moment Amina thought she saw gratitude in Baz's eyes.

Andrew’s condo felt different somehow. Felt new and familiar all at once. The click of a single lamp turning on illuminated the space with a warm, orange glow. Mina sighed in relief. All the exhaustion and stress from the last few weeks ebbed from her body.

Her eyes found Andrew, a similar look on his face or relief. She was home.

Mina stopped dead in her tracks, halfway through the living room. Her gaze snapped to her painting on the wall and a kaleidoscopic epiphany shuddered through her. Andrew halted once he saw her wide eyes.

All her life, Mina had been looking for a place to call home. She’d been looking in all the wrong places, because for her, home wasn’t a place at all. Home was a person.

He was her sign–not just her sign that fate existed–but that Mina had been meant to live. Because the thing she’d been searching for all her life was on the other side of all her pain.

"I love you, Andrew."

It was the easiest confession Mina ever uttered.

Andrew went eerily still, his big hazel eyes blinking while he processed, a mixture of apprehension and earnestness in his pouting lips. He wrung his hands in front of him, a nervous habit. Or an overwhelmed one.

When he looked up at her, the only way she could describe what she saw was devastation. "You love me?"

Mina couldn't take it. The genuine confusion and astonishment in his voice made her eyes burn. The wariness he held in his body when it came to love. Everything Andrew had been through and all he ever needed was love and a little bit of help. The fact he'd lived so many years and she hadn't been around to love him through them all…

If she thought about it too long, she'd go mad.

She gently grabbed his wrists and slowly guided his hands to her hips. Not only so she could feel him, but so he would stop wringing them into oblivion. Andrew's fingers dug into her skin, the little bit of contact breaking the barrier she tried to erect so she wouldn't get too emotional and overwhelm him more.

Too late.

"Yes," Mina sniffled, choking up a bit, "So much. I'm so in love with you. I feel it everywhere. I see it, swirling around us, all the time."

A tear dropped onto Andrew's cheek, subconsciously pulling her body closer to him. "You– You see it?"

Mina wiped her runny nose on the sleeve of her shirt, a watery smile breaking out on her face. "The painting I gave you,” she gestured to it, “It's us. It's what I see before I fall back asleep at night in your arms. Or when you make me coffee in the morning, exactly as I like it, before you drive me to work in utter silence because you know I need the time in my head before dedicating eight hours to my kids.” 

Andrew’s bottom lip wobbled, face crumbling under the weight of her confession as the tears kept coming. Mina’s throat clogged, but she forced herself to sob her way through it. 

“I see it when you're listening to Lena tell you the same story for the third time, but you still listen like it's the first. I saw it that night with Davion when you chose a different path for yourself. I was so proud of you. And in the hospital when I woke up and the first person I needed to see was you–" Mina’s breathing hitched painfully.

He choked out a response, shuddering in her arms, “Please… Say it again.”

Mina pulled back just enough to mold her lips to his in a searing kiss. Andrew groaned, running his tongue along her bottom lip, like he couldn’t wait any longer to taste her.. When she pulled away, he followed desperately. A burning ache erupted through her along with another wave of tears. The taste of him mixed with the saltiness made her whimper.

When they finally disconnected, she whispered, “I love you.” She tilted her chin up, resting her forehead against his.

Her heart pounded against her ribs spelling out, finally.

Tangled in the moment, Mina hadn’t realized Andrew’s hands hadn’t moved from her hips. She narrowed in on the feeling.

Andrew rhythmically squeezed her hips in groups of three over and over again. Mina's face crumbled when she realized he was telling her silently: I. Love. You. Three squeezes. Over and over.

She let her hands fall on top of his. Andrew’s head shot up, eyes red rimmed and wide. Her chest fluttered at the sight. She squeezed his hands three times. “I know,” Mina assured him, “I can hear you.”

Swirls of bonny belle and altar wine intricately wove patterns inside Mina’s mind, two colors who were always meant to glow in their warmth, but were forced to be cold. With each tear and each desperately whispered confession and each touch of their lips, new beginnings emerged. Two colors who had always belonged in the same family finally found themselves together at last.

He only had a name to go by and the fact she walked to the beach, not drove. It wasn’t much, but it narrowed down her whereabouts to a ten mile radius around the spot where they met. So, Pope spent his days searching and avoiding his family.

Baz and Smurf had already called him more than a couple of times each over the past three days, but even with the mounting dread gnawing at his insides, he couldn’t pick up the phone. He worried if he spent too much time around them, he’d start to forget her, like all the darkness he surrounded himself with would drown out the little bit of light she’d gifted him.

So, instead, Pope conducted stakeout after stakeout on street after street–each neighborhood shittier than the last–hoping to catch a glimpse of Mina. A sign she was real and not just someone he made up in his head. 

Logically, Pope knew he could just wait for noon to come on the fifth day, but that would mean having to spend two more sleepless nights dodging his family and all the demons clawing through his head.

His days bled together in one neverending cycle. Yet, every day at noon since that night, Pope found himself at the beach. It looked different during the day. At first, it irritated him. All the people lounging around unaware that this was his spot. Their spot. None of them could understand.

Today was no different. Anyone who came too close quickly scurried away when they caught sight of him. Suddenly, a buzzing sensation against his leg pulled him out of his stupor. Pope reached for his phone only to see Smurf’s name plastered across the screen.

He ignored it, despite the temptation to answer, if only to put himself out of his misery. Pope could only avoid her for so long before the consequences became dire. His eyes closed, trying to let the wind and waves wash over him, but all he could see was her.

Mina. She consumed all his thoughts. So, all Pope could do was wait. He’d come back everyday just in case he got the day wrong. He’d wait for his angel to appear, even if a large part of him assumed he would never see her again. Not unless he found her himself. 

“Your C.V. is one of the best I’ve seen. Not that I’m anything but an appreciator of art… But with a master’s in fine arts, it seems you are well and truly overqualified for this job, Amina. Is there a specific reason this job caught your eye? You do understand, it’s only temporary until Mrs. Calhoun gets back from maternity leave. With your portfolio, I’m surprised you're not already teaching at a university.”

Mina internally cringed at the use of her real name. Not the one she spent most of her life answering to, but the one on her birth certificate that long seemed lost to time until she dug it up a couple months ago. Hearing it on someone else’s lips, felt too close to home, like she had shown all her cards too soon and couldn’t take it back. Too vulnerable.

Not when you told Andrew.

No, telling him felt like a new beginning. This somehow felt like she was running. Still running after all this time.

She had been meticulous about choosing Oceanside at random, but she failed to do the same with her name. Instead, she reclaimed the name her birth mother gave her. It held roots which seemed important to have when starting a new life. She wouldn’t be surprised if it caught up to her in the end, but it was too late to change it now.

Oceanside’s School Board Office was exactly as dreary as she imagined it would be. Everything was either a shade of grey or beige, which already bothered her greatly given her aversion to mixing warm and cool colors without a proper palette. 

She stood out like a sore thumb in the dull conference room. Although, Mina figured she dressed for the part of elementary school art teacher. Pastels–all warm colors–but professional enough to seem put together.

Mina ran her hands over the large black portfolio she brought along for the interview. “Art has been my passion for as long as I can remember, but I found the rigidness of higher education took the…wonder out of it all. I taught a summer class at the community center where I lived before, ages six to ten, and I’ve never been more fulfilled. Children that age see things differently. They see the world differently. It’s a beautiful thing.”

Evelyn smiled warmly, “Well, that’s as good an answer as it gets. Normally, I’d say, thank you for coming and we’ll give you a call in a couple of days. However, I think you can tell based on the lack of an actual interview board that we’re understaffed. So, there’s no need for formalities. If your background check comes back clean, which I’m sure it will, you’re hired. Would you be able to start Monday?”

Relief washed over her in a violent wave, sending a shiver down Mina’s spine. Her heart skipped a beat, but her voice stayed steady, “Yes, absolutely. Thank you so much. I look forward to the opportunity.”

Evelyn stood–offering to walk her to the door–her heels clicking on the tile floor. The halls of the School Board were eerily empty to the point Mina could hear her own braid thumping against her back.

When they reached the double doors to the outside parking lot, Evelyn spoke up in a hushed tone, “You’re new to Oceanside, yes?” Mina nodded, warning bells chiming in her head. The woman continued, “I think it’s best to warn you… You will be dealing with many troubled children. Yes, they are young, but…” She trailed off.

“I understand. Trust me,” Mina replied, matching Evelyn’s tone, “Sometimes all they need is an outlet and I’d be happy to introduce them to one.”

Apprehension still furrowed Evelyn’s features, but she grinned regardless. “Just be careful. You never know who their families are, especially around here.”

“Of course,” Mina nodded, but her thoughts were going a million miles a minute. She knew Oceanside wasn’t exactly safe, per say. It was partly why she chose it, because it would be easier to blend. Still, the warning from a school board official was interesting to say the least. “It was nice to meet you. Thank you again for taking a chance on me.”

The click of the door handle to the outside rang out in the empty hallway, releasing her from the warning bearing down on her shoulders. The blazing sun shone down on her as she exited the building, warming her skin. She took a deep breath and released it with all her pent up nerves.

Evelyn had automatically conjured up an idyllised version of Amina, one who hadn’t known a life of suffering, violence, and the struggles of the less privileged. Amina had been exactly who she wanted Evelyn to see, a picturesque mask cultivated to perfection. 

However, her strength wasn’t the extensive portfolio or the prestigious art degree, all of which were real. Granted both came at a considerable cost to her own wellbeing and safety. No, her strength resided in recognition, because she had been one of those children with a family never to be crossed.

She could recognize the signs blindfolded. She could help. This was her way of doing good after a lifetime of wrong. Her new life started by pulling someone back from the abyss. Now, she could do just that before the damage became irreversible, and even then, she still believed there was always a chance.

What better way was there for her to atone?

Even as the accomplishment of temporary job security settled inside her, all Mina could think about was Andrew. All she wanted to do was tell him, not because he was the only person she knew in Oceanside, but because it was him. He was the one she wanted to confide in. What that said about her, she wasn’t sure, but it was true nevertheless. 

The ever bubbling need to see him grew tenfold as she found herself walking across the sparse parking lot, weaving around potholes deeper than ankle height. Two more days. She only had to make it two more days.

Why did it sound so far away? Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his expressive ones staring back at her, burned into the back of her eyelids. She fell asleep to them and woke up to them. If she didn’t know any better, Mina would think she was being haunted. 

A sick thought crossed her mind suddenly, almost making her trip on the curb as she emerged on the sidewalk alongside the main road. What if he didn’t show up? Mina couldn’t allow herself to consider not seeing him again. The thought alone caused her stomach to drop. 

Her pace quickened, shoes dancing across the concrete sidewalk, heading towards home. No car meant she had to walk or take public transport, but she refused to stand and wait in one place too long. With what she was wearing now, it would only put a target on her back. She couldn’t risk it.

So, she walked. However, she realized as the cars sped by her, Mina wasn’t necessarily walking towards home. Her body subconsciously headed for the beach. Headed for the spot where they first met even if it was two days too early.

Mina headed to the only place she found where she could breath, whether it had anything to do with Andrew… Well, that remained to be seen.

It took her almost forty minutes to get to the beach near her apartment. Traffic was a nightmare around lunchtime in Oceanside, but she made it. The sidewalk, which half turned into a boardwalk, opened up to a small set of stairs that led directly to the sand. Mina hastily stripped off her shoes before letting the magnetic pull of the beach tug her forward.

This time the sand was warm beneath her feet. She let out a long breath through her nose, taking in the assortment of sounds around her as she walked. The waves crashing, the wind whistling, the seagulls squawking, the children laughing. And she swore the soft, distant jingle of an ice cream truck filled the air. She confirmed it when a sweet, vanilla scent wafted over her.

Her eyes closed, wondering aimlessly. Her destination wasn’t far. With each step she took, her heartbeat pounded against her chest like it was trying to escape. In hindsight, she should have known it was a sign.

When Mina opened her eyes, everything stopped. Her feet planted themselves into the sand. Her heart refused to beat. And she stopped breathing altogether, because there he was, sitting exactly where she had left him three days ago. Only three feet away. She blinked to make sure he was real.

Had she gotten the days mixed up? Had more time passed than she initially realized? Was she losing time again?

"Andrew?" Mina called out to him breathlessly, not sure how to process the fact that the very man she had dreamt about for the last few nights was right in front of her. And seeing him in the daylight was a whole different experience.

His entire body snapped to attention before turning towards her. If she thought he was beautiful in the moonlight, nothing compared to him in the golden light of the afternoon. His auburn hair and hazel green eyes turned molten. His skin sunkissed and freckled, something she hadn’t gotten the privilege of noticing in the dark. Mina's breath stuttered in her lungs. He was beautiful.

He seemed to almost be buffering as he looked her over, just as astounded as her. The prominent pout on Andrew's mouth broke apart when he stated, "It hasn't been five days."

Thank God. She wasn’t losing her mind after all.

He stood, arms hanging at his side, like he couldn't figure out what to do with them, as confusion furrowed his brows. That's when her brain finally rebooted and caught up to the situation. 

Mina told herself she came here to reward herself after a successful interview, but subconsciously, she knew it had to do with the minute possibility of seeing Andrew again before the five days. She had refused to allow herself to hope for him, but now–standing here in front of him–she wondered if he'd come here hoping for her too.

An uncontrollable smile broke out across her face, pure and true. She stepped forward, wanting to reach out and touch him, but she remembered the way he flinched the last time. So, she stopped just short of invading his personal space, but she realized her hand had already started to reach out to him. Drawn to him like gravity.

"I'm so glad to see you," her voice came out breathless. The wind suddenly picked up, whipping her hair behind her. Words started coming out of her mouth before she could emotionally prepare for the outcome. "I know we said five days, but if you have some time now..." Mina trailed off, running her hands over her cream colored pants, brushing off sand that wasn’t there.

Andrew blinked and swallowed. She watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed. The silence stretched between them, but she had no problem waiting, despite the nerves bubbling in her stomach and chest.

Finally, Andrew's emotion thick voice grated out, "You're here. You– You came back."

Mina swore she heard an audible crack as her heart shattered. The vulnerability in his voice, the stutter, she couldn't take it. His face melted into a pleading look of someone wondering how something good could be happening to them.

Of course, the man she met while making an attempt on his life was broken, but something about this moment showed her the depths of his hurt and despair. Not only the pain, but the betrayal as well.

Andrew never had anyone in his corner. Nobody showed up for him. Fought for him. Defended him. Mina knew what that was like. She never wanted anyone to suffer the way she had. Everyone deserved someone in their corner.

Anyone who wanted someone else to suffer just because they had suffered… Well, that was a kind of evil Mina had a hard time contending with. It reminded her of her time in college when she’d witnessed the hazing rituals of Sigma Alpha Epsilon. The seniors always used the excuses, “I had to do it, so you have to too. I went through so much worse when I was a freshman. This is nothing.”

Mina could practically feel Andrew’s pain, his uncertainty, from across the short distance between them. "Of course, I came back. I never go back on my promises," Mina bit the inside of her cheek, trying to keep her own emotions at bay.

Andrew's fist opened and closed at his side, fidgeting. All she wanted to do was comfort him in whatever way she could, but she didn't know him well enough yet to know what was best. If she made it worse, she’d never forgive herself.

His chest started to heave. Alarm bells sounded off in the back of her mind. The warning signs waved the red flags. Screw personal space. 

Mina stepped into him, keeping her voice low and calm, "Andrew, breath. You're overwhelmed and that's okay. I just need you to focus on breathing with me. Listen to the waves." His eyes darted back and forth across her face, but he listened as he tried to match her breathing. He kept swallowing repeatedly, chin wobbling.

"Good, Andrew. You're doing good. Now, tell me what color my shirt is," Mina carefully coaxed, remembering all the steps she used to halt her own panic attacks.

Andrew's eyes dropped to her shirt, not even questioning the shift in conversation. "Green."

"Good," she answered with an encouraging smile, "How many umbrellas are there?" Mina gestured her head towards the beach behind her.

He glanced over her shoulder scanning the area, chest no longer heaving. "Seven."

Mina nodded even though she had no idea if that was right or not. It didn't matter anyway. "How many of them have that obnoxious, rainbow color palette with no cohesion whatsoever?"

The smallest tinge of an upturned lip graced Andrew's face and Mina could've cried in triumph. It wasn't exactly a smile, but it was damn close. He answered with a much calmer voice, "Three."

Mina whirled around in surprise, hand going up to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun. She counted the obnoxious umbrellas for herself. And just like Andrew said, three out of seven. "Wow, that's a vast improvement. Their popularity is dying out, thank God."

When she turned back around to focus back on Andrew, he was staring down at her already. The reverence in his eyes stole all the air from her lungs. When his intense gaze dropped and landed on her right hand, she let out a long breath, trying to get her rapidly beating heart under control. 

Oh, how the tables have turned.

She followed his line of sight to her hand. That's when it clicked. The night they met she held his hand. Was he silently asking her to reach out? She took the risk, consequences be damned.

Mina reached out slowly and threaded her fingers through his, "Is this what you want?"

Andrew's fingers flexed before engulfing her hand in his warm palm. He nodded, chin dipping like he was ashamed. Mina squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him.

She continued her line of question, wanting to make sure his panic was completely broken, “Can you tell me what you smell?”

His eyes closed for a second, breathing in steadily, “Salt.”

Her thumb ran back and forth absentmindedly over his thumb, “Good. Last question. Tell me something you feel? How does the wind feel against your skin or the sand underneath your shoes? Anything.”

“Soft… Warm,” Andrew responded.

“What is?” She coaxed gently.

“Your hand,” he answered with a straightforwardness that made Mina smile.

She took inventory of his breathing one more time. His chest settled back into a steady pattern of rising and falling, breathing under control. The panic was gone from his eyes and his face was far more relaxed, but she wanted to make sure that glimpse of shame she saw take over him didn’t come back either. So, she reiterated with as much earnestness as possible, "I'm so glad you were here, Andrew. You have no idea."

His mouth twitched, "Think I do."

She smiled, "Yeah?"

Andrew's sharp gaze pierced through her, "I was here two days early, wasn’t I?"

Her heart skipped a beat at his blunt teasing, "Makes two of us.” She had a hard time containing the giddiness erupting in her chest, “Do you have anywhere to be for the next couple of hours?"

Andrew shook his head, "I don't have to pick Lena up from school today."

Mina paused, excitement sparking inside her at the new bit of information. "Who's Lena?"

Andrew hesitated only for a second, his guard coming down brick by brick, “My niece.” A sense of relief filled her, at least he had family to live for.

She didn't push, given he already hesitated giving her that information, but she filed it away nonetheless. "She has a beautiful name. We rhyme," she joked, trying for some silly, lightheartedness.

Another twitch of his lips into an almost smile made her silly little comment worth every penny. Suddenly, an image flashed in her mind of her rising on her toes and kissing that twitchy corner of his mouth. 

What would his lips feel like? Would he blush? What would he sound like?

Each question hit her like a freight train. It was quick. There and gone, but the damage was done. Mina knew they would follow her into her dreams.

Instead, she pivoted the conversation back to what she planned the moment she saw him. She had a promise to fulfill, no matter how terrified she might be. "I have something to show you. It's a bit of a drive, but–"

"I'll drive," Andrew interrupted, before she could get to the 'selling the trip' part of the pitch.

Mina nodded, sensing he needed some bit of control, "Deal." She gently tugged on his hand, "Come on. Where's your car parked?"

Andrew swung his truck into an empty parking space, glancing around the half empty lot of the swanky, uppity art gallery just outside of Los Angeles. He catalogued the entrances–two security guards clearly trained, and not just deadbeat retired cops, metal detectors, security cameras everywhere. 

If this was a job, it'd be an immediate no. Craig might try to convince them to take a swing at it, but Baz and him knew art galleries weren't worth the hassle. Smurf too. It also took way too long to fence expensive, more famous pieces. The Cody's weren't in business with the right people to be doing all that. Too high profile.

His gaze slid back to Mina, who looked lost in thought. It gave him the opportunity to really look. When Andrew saw her on the beach, he thought she’d been just a figment of his sleep deprived mind playing tricks on him. He'd never seen someone so ethereal. Honeyed skin highlighted by the sun, eyes so warm and kind. There was practically a damn halo around her head. 

Now that she looked more human, it was easier to watch her. Mina's elbow rested on the rolled down window, finger picking at her lips. Nervousness oozed off her in waves. Andrew wanted to pull her hand away, if only so he could see her whole face. Read it as best he could.

He reached out across the center console, wrapping his hand around her wrist, pulling it away from her mouth. The little bit of contact made his fingers tingle.

Mina snapped out of her daze, automatically turning her hand in his to hold like a lifeline. Something in his brain shortcircuited. He liked being needed–wanted–by her.

Reluctantly, she pulled away from him so she could open the door and hop out. "This won't take long."

Andrew followed her lead, joining her in the parking lot. The rigidness of her body concerned him. Both times he'd met her she moved with a certain fluidity. Now, she moved with a stutter, stiff as a statue. When his shoulder brushed hers, Mina slid her hand back into his grasp. It was the only thing she did with confidence ever since they got here, like this wasn't only their second time meeting. Like she needed him. This time it was Andrew who squeezed back.

She walked forward, leading the way. Andrew glanced at the name of the gallery, Palette & Brushstroke. He scoffed internally.

As they came up to the entrance, he clocked the security guards. Their guns holstered at their hips, tasers on the opposite side of their belts. He bristled, feeling naked and defenseless without his gun, which he left behind in his glove box. They passed through the metal detectors and into the crisp, air conditioned gallery without pause.

He took inventory of the building quickly, so he could get his eyes back on Mina to gauge her reactions. The stark change in temperature from the outside made him notice the clammy state of her hand. She wasn’t all right. Whatever she wanted to show him was not something she took lightly. 

He wouldn’t either.

His eyes darted around the space. Two stories, open floor plan, security cameras at every corner. Paintings hung from the walls, statues and modern art installations took up some of the floor space. Everything was clean and neatly organized. Andrew would have appreciated the cleanliness more if he wasn't surrounded by stuck up assholes, who’d all sneer at him like an animal if given the chance.

He stepped closer into Mina's side, trying to offer her support like she had for him, which he still hadn't fully come to terms with yet. All he knew was, she made him feel good. Better than he had in years.

She glanced up at him, a small smile upturned her lips, but her eyes told a different story. As she guided him through the gallery, Andrew noticed her free hand came up to pat her necklace, checking it was still there.

Their footsteps echoed on the concrete floor until Mina stopped dead in her tracks. Andrew looked forward. In front of them was a freestanding wall in the middle of the first floor with a single painting on it.

“That night, you asked me who I was... I thought it'd just be easier to show you," she said, keeping her voice quiet to blend with the dull hum of the gallery. Mina nodded her head towards the painting, "This is a Rembrandt. Juno."

Andrew stared at the portrait of a woman, clearly royalty–a crown resting on her head, jewels adorning her gown and hair, her hand resting on a scepter. However, nothing stood out more than her eyes. There was a calmness in them, but underneath it, there was an immense, heavy sadness.

When he finished analyzing it, he turned to Mina, waiting for her to explain why she brought him here. That's when it hit him, the same sadness he saw in Juno's eyes lived in Mina's. The same sorrow masked by calmness, by years of hiding.

She turned her body into his, dissolving the space between them. Mina took a deep breath before finally explaining through a shaky whisper, "It's a fake."

His head snapped down to her, creating a faux bubble of privacy between them. Andrew's eyes bounced around her face as the shame coated hers. He already knew the answer, but he asked anyway, "How do you know?"

"Because I painted it,” Mina rested her arm across her stomach, like she was physically trying to hold herself together. A sardonic grin twisted her lips as she recited, “The best crime is one no one knows occurred in the first place.”

Now, he understood why Juno looked familiar.

“You painted your eyes,” Andrew stated matter-of-factly, because at the moment, that was all he could see. He wondered if the original had the same despair.

“What?” She breathed out, eyes slightly wide.

Andrew flicked his hand towards the painting and reiterated, “They're your eyes.”

“I– Nobody's ever pointed that out to me before…” Mina stuttered, bringing her other hand down to her wrist, “I guess I leave a piece of myself in all of them. Some took more than others.”

Andrew followed the movement of her hand. Her fingernails bit into the wrist of the hand he was holding until her knuckles turned white. “No,” he told her softly, separating her hands.

She sighed shakily, the frequency vibrating in his chest, “Sorry. Bad habit.” Once he was certain Mina wouldn't try to scratch at her wrist again, he let go. She started to back away from the painting, bringing him with her. “You wanted to know who I was. My purpose in Oceanside. Why I need things…quieter,” she palmed her necklace, “Now, you know why. I'm sure you can fill in a lot of the blanks.”

Most of the pieces fell into place, painting a picture of who Mina had been and who she was trying to be now. Astonishment barreled through him, not just at her abilities, but at the way she was able to get away from it all and be someone else. Someone better. Someone who believed in forgiveness and redemption.

“Why Oceanside?” Andrew finally asked when they were nearing the front of the gallery again.

With every step they took closer to the doors, Mina seemed to relax. So, Andrew picked up the pace while she answered. “Hiding in plain sight. No connections to anyone or anything. Nothing to be able to track me there. It was a completely random decision… Or at least I thought it was, but now I’m–”

“Noor?”

Mina halted, coming to a violent stop, two steps from the doors of the gallery. Pope immediately bristled at whoever dared interrupt them. Fake names were reserved for jobs. Noor wasn’t her name, but she reacted to it. So, that could only mean a couple of things. Whoever this was clearly wasn’t someone Mina wanted to be seeing right now.

Her fingernails dug into the skin of his hand as alarm bells sounded off in his head. Protect. Protect. Protect. Before turning around, Mina’s entire being shapeshifted into someone else entirely. When she finally faced the person who called out the name he didn’t know, Pope no longer recognized the woman standing next to him.

Her posture molded itself into something cold and calculated, chin raising just slightly so she could look down her nose at the woman who stood in front of them. Pope could practically hear the hostile energy buzzing in his ears. Whoever the blond woman with poorly masked anger in her eyes was to Mina, it didn’t matter. He already marked her as a threat, which resulted in him taking a half step forward to get a better vantage.

“Darling, you didn’t tell me you scheduled a visit. I would have organized our archival pieces for you if I had,” The woman smiled, eyes flitting down Mina like she was prey, “Although, maybe not. You seem…underdressed for an archival review.” Her ice blue shark eyes snapped to him after he let out a huff in response, “And who is this? Did Davion not make the cut?”

Mina hummed, “Malinda, always a pleasure. I’m not here on business as you’ve already kindly pointed out. We were just leaving–”

“Oh no, you must stay,” Malinda interrupted, a sly grin twisting her lips, “We’re having an exhibition tonight. I’m sure Davion would love to hear your thoughts on our newest piece by Schnabel. Or is this gentleman your new…admirer?”

Pope tensed, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the threat. She reminded him of a feral cat ready to pounce. Mina stepped forward into his field of view and for a second, Pope faltered. Because for a moment, he saw Smurf in the way she sized up Malinda with a condescending smirk.

“It was lovely to see you,” Mina shut the conversation down and turned on her heels to the exit. Pope stayed put for a second longer until Malinda really looked at him for the first time. Her facade dropped long enough for him to see the writhing fear underneath. Not just fear of him, but fear of Mina.

Pope followed her outside without another word. The path she tracked to his car was direct and final. When the humid interior of his truck enveloped them both, Mina finally spoke, “Drive.”

Andrew peeled out of the parking lot quicker than he should have to not draw attention. It took less than five minutes to get back on the highway. Once he was at a safe cruising speed, he glanced over at Mina just in time to see her hand fly to her mouth and her face melt back into the person he knew. 

“I’m so sorry. That never should’ve happened. I–I shouldn’t have brought–” She gasped, cutting herself off. “I never wanted you to see that,” a tear slipped onto her cheek. He watched the path it tracked down her face before he had to turn his head back to the road.

Andrew didn’t know what to do. The hurt in her voice killed him. “You did what you had to do,” he responded, because it was true. Whatever Mina had to do to keep herself safe, he’d never bat an eye. 

A thud echoed through the car when her head thumped against the window. The same distance he saw in her eyes the night they met, returned with a vengeance. Andrew tried to think about what he could do to pull her back. Then, he remembered what she’d done for him at the beach. She got him talking.

“Noor?” He asked, hesitantly.

A flash of hurt passed over her face, eyebrows furrowing in pain. Shit, he said the wrong thing. He opened his mouth to take it back when she responded, despondent. 

“I fought back on taking the Juno job. I thought it was too high-risk. Too many variables to control, but she insisted. Noor. It means light. She made me use it as a cover to…mock me. Every time I heard that name, she knew it would remind me of what I wasn’t.”

A memory of his own unlocked itself. Pope Andrew. The mocking voices. The glint of a long dead joke that he was the butt of. Anger coursed through him in violent rushes, his hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. It was all too familiar.

He never wanted Mina to feel the way he had, but it was too late. Someone already made her think she was less than what she was, an angel. She was his light reincarnated.

Andrew never wanted Mina out of his sight, but she could never cross paths with his family either. Smurf would immediately see the dollar signs, the opportunity to delve into a world the Cody family had yet to conquer. An entirely different class bracket. He couldn't let that happen. Couldn't let Smurf taint the only good thing that's come into his life.

But he couldn't let her go either. He wouldn't. Not after Cath and Amy. Not after Julia. The dark tendrils of fixation weaved its way through him, growing and whispering in his ear. Mixed with the anger Pope felt on her behalf, he couldn’t get the thoughts to stop.

Don't leave her alone. Never let your family see. Keep her for yourself. Selfish.

Shame slithered up his spine, making goosebumps break out across his neck. Pope rolled his head, trying to get rid of them. All he could see were the kids who used to imprison fireflies in glass jars, not bothering to poke holes for air. Pope hated it. Hated seeing creatures made of light forced into confinement until they died. Now, he was contemplating doing the same thing to Mina.

She was an angel cursed with bad luck for having met him. Still, she appeared to him. That had to mean something, or Pope was just trying to convince himself it did. He tried to convince himself Mina wasn't like Amy. She'd lived in his world–grew up in it–at least to some extent. She was free and Pope knew the cost of pulling her back in.

He knew, but he wasn't sure he could stop himself. Pope would try to keep her away. He'd try, but it always ended the same way.

It was dark by the time Amina realized Andrew had pulled up somewhere she didn’t recognize. She lifted her head from the window, vision shifting in and out of focus against her will. When she vaguely registered him getting out of the car, Amina couldn’t bring herself to follow.

Her mind warped in and out of the past, playing it on a film reel. The blood, the screaming, her choices. The car door swung open, revealing Andrew. He reached across her body and unbuckled her seatbelt, the click of it reverberating through her skull like a gunshot.

His warm hands grasped both of hers as he pulled her out of the car, just a bag of bones to be guided. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at him. How could she? He saw the monster she tamped down inside of her. Saw the way she shifted skins like it was nothing. How could he ever trust her if she couldn’t even trust herself?

Andrew guided her through a dark alleyway of condos and apartments until the end of the alley opened up to a semi-private beach. Her ears had been so full of noise she hadn’t heard the waves. Andrew tugged her forward, leading her towards the water.

In the back of her mind, a voice whispered: He brought you here. He still cares. He wants to help. Andrew finally let her go when she seemed to be able to stand on her own.

Amina stopped at the edge where the sand went from dry to wet. Waves crashed, filling her spiraling mind with soothing noise. Andrew's presence remained at her back, which allowed her to focus fully on pulling herself back from the abyss. She didn't have to watch her back if he was there. She kicked off her shoes until she could feel the ocean water enveloped her feet.

The sudden urge to feel the waves took hold. Amina dropped to her knees, palms digging into the wet sand. Another wave crashed against the shore, washing over her hands and soaking her jeans from the knees down. Her hands contracted in and out of the sand, letting the grains drain through her fingers.

She tilted her head back, eyes closed. The mask she was forced to wear today still burned against her skin. The urge to claw it off became stronger. Flashes of a life once lived haunted her every ragged breath.

Davion might need a...softer touch.

Softer touch. She had known what that meant, because it hadn't been the first time and it wouldn't be the last, not until Amina made it so.

You be whoever you have to be to get the job done. You're my mockingbird. My imitator. That's your job. Be who you have to, do what you have to. Don't let this slip through your fingers. You have to be perfect.

Juno had been perfect. Every brushstroke was pristine. Every shadow and highlight. Mina brought the essence of Rembrandt's painting to life as if she herself were the master painter reborn. It was perfect. She had been perfect. And still, it hadn't been enough.

Let him think he possesses you. He's a gallery owner after all. Let him collect you.

A sob caught in the back of her throat, unable to shake the memories as they tumbled through her mind. All her defenses were down. Another whimper almost ripped itself from her throat when Mina felt an all encompassing heat drape over her back.

Her breathing hitched as Andrew settled against her, his head coming down to rest on her shoulder. Tentatively, his hand settled against her collarbone, splayed there like he could hold her together. Then, his other arm bracketed around her waist.

A shuttering gasp let her and with it she expelled her mother's voice. The warmth seeping into every corner of her body chased away the sharp claws of the facades she cycled through to survive. In his arms, she could be Mina. Just Mina.

The sudden urgency to see Andrew's face seared through her. So, she turned in his grasp, keeping within the circle of his arms. His melancholic eyes and downturned expression hit her full force. Mina had been around grief and pain enough to know what it looks like when someone is trying to sympathize. When they're trying to understand.

That wasn't Andrew. He wasn't trying. He felt it. He held it within himself just as deeply as she did, because he knew. She was seeing her pain, her grief, reflected back to her. Not in understanding, but in knowing. Just as she'd known his own pain the night they met.

Mina blinked, tears falling down her cheeks where they met Andrew's thumbs as he caressed them away.

"Can– Can I hug you?" The words were out of her mouth before they even entered her head as if it was a direct command of her body that bypassed her brain.

"You're asking if you can hug me," Andrew looked genuinely confused, "Why?"

Mina understood immediately that he was wondering why she was asking, not why she wanted to hug him. Combining his question with the way she remembered him flinching away from her touch... Her heart broke for him. It seemed to be the only thing it could do every time Andrew revealed a little bit more about himself.

"Because you're allowed to say no," Mina answered honestly. However, her mind filled in the rest of what her mouth wouldn't say: Because I'll never do to you what they did to me. I'll never do to you what they already seemed to have done to you. Whoever they were.

Andrew searched her face before replying, almost shyly, "I don't want to say no."

A smile grew on Mina's face. A little light grew brighter at the end of the tunnel she dug herself. And it was coincidentally shaped like Andrew. Shaped by his kindness, his intensity, his bluntness, his warmth.

"Okay," Mina whispered, "But the offer always stands. Always."

Finally, she wrapped her arms around Andrew's neck, slotting herself against him like placing the final piece of a puzzle. Her body melted against his, because for once, she could finally rest. Andrew's arms pulled her closer, blanketing across her waist and back. His head fell back to her shoulder, nuzzling into her.

The fingers of the waves caressed their ankles and knees, wrapping around them as if baptizing them to be reborn together. The wind blew a momentary gust as if sighing in relief that fate finally succeeded in bringing her and Andrew together.

Mina was self aware enough to know she was unbalanced. Mad. Sick in the head. Infatuated. Whatever it was, she didn't care. Not when she could feel Andrew's fingers playing with the end of her braid. Nothing had ever felt more right.

Her fingers ran through the soft curls at the nape of his neck. The beat of his heart against her chest. His hands gripping her just on the right side of pain, like nothing or no one could ever take her from him.

This was where she was always supposed to be.

She could’ve stayed there until the ocean swept them both away, somewhere more forgiving. Somewhere better.

Her tears were swallowed by the crook of Andrew's neck. She pulled her head back only far enough to see the wetness glimmering on his neck. A single droplet stayed intact, tracking from freckle to freckle as it slid across his skin. It was mesmerizing.

That's when she saw a dark shadow move swiftly in the corner of her eye. Her head snapped up, sudden tenseness alerting Andrew immediately. He started to pull away from her, but she latched onto him, bringing her mouth to his ear.

“Someone's coming,” she whispered, urgently, “No weapon that I can see.”  The unknown man walked towards them with a mission. Even though Mina didn't know a whole lot about Andrew, she knew he led a similar life she had, not strictly legal.

In one rapid motion, Andrew stood and turned around. He stepped in front of her as she followed suit. Her eyes dropped to his back where his hand rested over the handle of his gun still tucked into his pants. Mina hoped he remembered to reload the clip after she emptied it a couple days ago.

Getting rid of a body was not how she expected the night to end, but if that was what life looked like at Andrew's side, she would do it without question. It wasn't like she hadn't done far worse in the past.

“Pope?” The man called, an incredulous tone in his voice edged with irritation.

Andrew stiffened more, if possible, but his hand fell from his gun and back to his side. Pope. Clearly, he knew the man, but he refused to step aside and reveal her further. So, that meant he felt the need to shield her.

“What?” He finally responded, clipped.

The man looked at him with an exasperated expression and raised eyebrows, “What? Are you serious? Where the hell have you been? I've been calling you for days. Smurf's been on edge. I can't keep coverin’ for you. She already knows something's up.”

Andrew stepped towards him, “I thought you had it handled, Baz.” His words were drawn out, sarcasm sprinkled in. Mina hadn't heard him talk like this before.

Baz threw his arms wide, “Thought you had my back on this, brother, but you up and disappear the minute–” He paused, eyes darting over Andrew's shoulder and onto her.

Brother. It could be literal or figurative. Either way, they were close. She filed it away. Amina's palm settled on Andrew's back briefly before stepping out from behind him. Not being able to read his face was affecting how she handled the situation. However, the second Baz laid his eyes on her, a disbelieving and insincere smile spread across on his face.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me, Pope. Did Smurf send her?”

She bristled at being talked about like she wasn't standing right there, but she still hadn't observed enough to know the best way to respond. However, it didn't matter because Andrew answered for her, or in this case, Pope. He shifted towards Baz, head bowing like a predator ready to pounce.

At his reaction, Baz's eyes darted between the two of them before raising up his hands, “Hey, just had to check.”

Andrew scoffed, “You know Smurf would only send a blond.” Something about that sentence sent shivers up Amina's spine, and not good ones. Andrew glanced at her like he felt them too. Without turning back to Baz, he asked, “What do you want?”

Amina kept her face completely neutral, ready to follow his lead. She dipped her chin just slightly to let him know she was with him. He registered the movement, following it with his eyes, before turning back to Baz.

“I need you to look after Lena tonight and take her to school tomorrow morning,” he answered.

Lena. Amina knew that name. She was Andrew's niece, her rhyming twin. So, Baz was his literal brother. Not just a friend. Family. However, that wouldn’t change the red flags waving in her head. She couldn’t trust him.

“Why?” Andrew questioned, matter-of-factly.

Baz glanced at her suspiciously, “I’ve got some things to take care of.”

As if his answer wasn’t good enough, Andrew tilted his head, “I’m busy.”

Baz rolled his eyes, huffing out a sarcastic laugh, “She’s not family. Lena’s your family. Allison can’t tonight, so I need you to watch her.”

“Take her to Smurf’s,” he countered, but clearly Andrew didn’t like that idea even as he suggested it. She could tell he was arguing for the sake of pushing back, not because he didn’t want to take care of Lena.

Amina finally interrupted, keeping her voice low so only Andrew could hear, “Hey, it’s fine. Go. Lena needs you more than me.” 

His eyes darted around her face, looking for any signs of deception. Or maybe, if she was all right in general. She gave him a small smile of reassurance.

Baz sighed, clearly losing patience, “Bring her if you want. I don’t care.”

Andrew’s head snapped back to Baz, a wild look growing in his eyes. “I thought she wasn’t family. You’re going to let a stranger around Lena. Guess it’s not any different than leaving her unsupervised at Smurf’s to almost get run over in the driveway.”

It took everything in her not to react. This was a different side of Andrew, someone relentless and immovable when it came to defending his family. Even if it was against his own brother.

Despite the jabs, Baz looked more anxious to leave than to actually bite back. He’d been considerably more relaxed now that he knew she wasn't involved with whoever the hell Smurf was. Baz stepped forward, a hand falling to Andrew’s shoulder, “I trust you, Pope. If you say she’s solid, then she is.”

She had a hard time figuring out if he was telling the truth or if he was only acquiescing to get Andrew to do what he wanted. It could easily be both, she concluded.

Baz turned to her, pointedly making a show of asking, “Who’re you again?” Not that he cared who she was, rather who she was to Andrew.

“Amina,” she answered, testing the waters, “Andrew's friend.”

The waves continued to crash behind them, but she swore they momentarily paused, like they themselves wanted to hear the response. Baz looked between her and his brother, trying to read something.

“Andrew, huh?” He responded, “Pope doesn't have friends.” Amina didn't need to know Andrew's life story to know Baz decided to twist the knife after his earlier jab.

Anger smoldered inside her, coating her tongue, “He does now.”

Simple. Blunt. Uncompromising.

Baz's eyebrows raised and Andrew turned to her, a similar surprise in his eyes but also something else. Amina stood her ground next to him. And the wind itself agreed as it picked up in a massive gust, whipping her braid behind her back.

Andrew's brother stared into her, until the first genuine grin spread across his face, “Smurf's gonna hate you.”

Her olive skin radiated warmth against her yellow sundress. The matching yellow ribbon in her hair kept peaking out, drawing his attention. As if anything could take his eyes off her. She practically glowed. Yet, concern twisted his gut with persistence.

Because her voice and eyes were gone.

The kindness he got so used to hearing and seeing disappeared. Instead, she muttered passages to herself, quoting something he didn't understand. Her attention somehow both completely distant, but also painfully enamored, with the painting hanging on the wall in front of them.

Pope had barely glanced at it, but Mina had floated towards it. He remained close, standing guard while her usual hypervigilance vanished and left her exposed. Her eyes darted across the painting, back and forth, up and down. She analyzed. Calculated.

The shadows moved from one o'clock to three o'clock before Mina finally turned to him. "This's the one. It's perfect."

Mina’s word rolled around his head, she should in ground unsanctified been lodged till the last trumpet. When Mina pulled away from the piece, heading for the exit, Pope finally glanced at the art she’d been staring at for hours. Her death was doubtful.

A woman sat in solitude amongst lily pads in a marsh. A look of sorrow etched on her face, eyes closed and chin raised. Pope wondered why Mina picked this one. He wondered if she–once again–found herself drawn to its despair.

Mina recognized it. Lived it. She could recreate it.

Pope followed, knowing they were barreling towards an inevitable Pope wasn’t sure he could pull Mina back from. And whatever inevitability ultimately took her from him… It would kill him all the same.

Most nights Amina woke up briefly around 3 AM. Some days it was closer to 3:12 AM. Other days, more like 3:41. However, it was always in the same hour.

Pope would know because on the nights he couldn’t sleep–which was usually most nights–he’d watch Mina with bated breath until she stirred in his bed. He couldn’t settle himself until she did or else something felt incomplete. Until the clock struck 3 AM, Pope traced her features with his eyes. 

Tonight, her lips were open and pouty due to her cheek being smushed against her pillow. When her long, dark hair obscured her face, Pope would brush it away before sitting down in his chair. To his disappointment, it had been braided back tonight so he couldn’t justify touching her. 

However, he noticed something about today’s trip to the gallery exhausted her far more than her usual nine hour day teaching children art. Pope had been nothing but worried since they got back. It scared him to see her disappear right in front of his eyes, only to re-emerge hours later like nothing happened.

Pope gripped his thighs to the point of pain until he saw the way Mina’s eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks. It mesmerized him enough to distract from the memories of her hollow eyes.

“I’m here,” Pope murmured into the dark room, only loud enough to warn her.

Mina stirred, her arms hugging tighter to her body as she hummed in acknowledgement. Pope glanced at the clock, 2:13 AM. So, he waited. His mind filled with the sounds of the crashing waves outside and the steady breathing of Mina.

Not Smurf’s voice. Not Baz’s. Not the constant insistence to push Mina to bring a job to them.

It all fell away when he was here, even though he knew what tomorrow would bring.

And when Mina finally woke up a little more than an hour later, the first thing she looked for was him. It used to be the clock. Now, her blurry eyes always rose to him. She propped herself up on her elbow, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Then, she whispered his name like a beacon, ushering him towards her. Andrew craved the way Mina uttered his name. During the day, his mind drifted to the quiet serenity of watching her sleep in his bed. He would never admit it, but it did something to Andrew knowing her body dragged itself out of sleep to greet him every night.

“Andrew…” Her siren call echoed out into his darkened room. A shaky sigh left him, knowing she finally gave him permission to be close to her.

He stood from his chair, taking a couple of steps to the bed. Mina raised her hand towards him, eyes already closed again. Andrew sunk down onto his bed–a bed that never felt like his until she started sleeping in it.

Some nights, her hand would clasp his and pull it close to her chest. Other nights, she’d rest her hand on his cheek, thumb running back and forth until she fell back asleep. However, his favorite nights were when she shifted closer and pulled his arm around her to rest on her waist.

However, something about tonight felt different. Maybe, it was the way he crawled into bed slower, heavier from the weight of tomorrow. Maybe, it was the way the tension just wouldn’t leave his body even after he settled next to her. Maybe, something in the air just felt off, because Mina opened her eyes again.

She turned towards him, scanning for whatever was wrong. He shuddered at her analysis, wondering if she could see the weight on his shoulders. He had tried to keep her from his family as long as possible. Tried to keep them from dragging her back down with them, but like she had pointed out, the Codys were inevitable.

Mina handled his family like someone born into it, not like someone who’d only met them all a few weeks ago. But it didn’t matter. She wasn’t meant to be a Cody. She was too good for them. Too light. Too precious. And he couldn’t save her.

“Turn around,” she whispered, gently into the sacred space between them.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, a strike of panic going through his gut. Did he do something wrong? Could she finally see the filth always clinging to his skin? Andrew wiped his palms on his pants subconsciously before he turned to his other side, back facing her. Not seeing her caused his thoughts to race. He heaved in a sharp breath, scrambling to get a hold of himself.

Then, a warmth encompassed his back, halting everything. Mina plastered herself against him, arm wrapping around his waist. She nuzzled the back of his neck before asking, “Is this okay?”

His stomach quivered when her hand rested on his abdomen to pull herself even closer. He nodded, because how could she not know he craved the way she made him feel every time she touched him? It was more than okay. 

He covered her arm with his own, refusing to let his mind wonder anymore. Tomorrow was another day. As she held him, he couldn’t keep himself from muttering, “Angel.”

Andrew swore he felt her stiffen against him. She shifted, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder.

“I’m not,” she whispered with muffled resignation. The hand resting on his abdomen twisted and grabbed hold of his hand until their fingers were intertwined. She squeezed as she continued, “I never told you why I came to Oceanside. I’ve kept it to myself long enough. You deserve to know… I’m not an angel.”

Whatever Mina decided to tell him wouldn’t change a thing. She was an angel sent to him on the night he chose to kill himself. She was the reason he was still alive. Nothing else mattered to him.

So, Andrew listened.

“Andrew,” Mina called from the kitchen of his condo, “Do you want to stop and get coffee on the way or should I just make some here?”

Today was the dreaded day.

The early morning sun streamed through the windows, casting a yellow glow over the living room and kitchen. The muffled sound of crashing waves became a constant, soothing reminder of where she was, or rather who she was with. If Mina could hear the waves, that usually meant Andrew had to be nearby.

Her small slice of serenity had become synonymous with the man himself. Now, the waves weren’t the only thing that could ground her and bring her quiet.

His footsteps sounded down the hallway until he appeared in the kitchen. “We can grab some on the way. Gonna need something stronger than the shit I have.”

Mina grinned to herself before turning around to face him. She blinked, a blush rising to her cheeks. 

Andrew wore a perfectly crisp button-up lavender shirt. His hazel eyes practically shone because of it. His usual attire consisted of dark colors, which she had no problem with. He always looked good, but something about him wearing a color felt specific to her. He knew about her niche obsession with color theory, so she could only assume this was his way of stepping into her world. 

Her heart skipped a beat before she composed herself enough to say, “I like your shirt. It looks really good on you.”

Andrew looked down at himself like he had momentarily forgotten what he picked out to wear. A bashful grin tugged at the corner of his lips, but his eyes remained on her once they lifted. “I saw it at the store… You wear this color a lot.” He closed the distance between them and reached around her shoulder to grab her braid.

He held up the end so she could see the lavender scrunchie she used to tie it off. The smile that broke out across her face almost hurt her cheeks. “Have to be careful. If your brothers see us matching, they’ll have a field day.”

Andrew shrugged, a playful look in his eyes that she rarely got to see but loved because of its teasing nature. “Let them.”

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, “I’ve got your back.”

Without a hint of hesitation, he responded, “I know.”

Despite preparing to head into the proverbial lion’s den, Mina never felt lighter. The last few weeks with Andrew had been a beautiful whirlwind. Her apartment had remained relatively vacant ever since the first night she slept over–only visiting to grab her clothes and toiletries. And Mina’s job had become the light of her life.

With each passing week, she dreaded the possibility of having to say goodbye to the kids she’d grown so fond of so quickly. However, she kept reminding herself she would still have Lena, who had recently made it her mission to learn about every possible art form. Whenever Baz asked Andrew to babysit–which was quite often–Mina would join him, indulging all of Lena’s curiosity.

When it was just the three of them together, Mina had a hard time reeling in the part of her brain that liked to play pretend. It was a dangerous thing to imagine the three of them being a family, but that’s what it felt like.

Anytime Lena laughed, Mina’s heart soared. Her eyes would find Andrew wherever he was in the room–folding laundry meticulously, cooking up lunch, reorganizing Baz’s kitchen–almost as if to say, did you hear that? You heard that, right? And he’d already be watching her in that intense way of his, but there’d be a deep satisfaction and tenderness underneath it.

He spoiled both of them rotten. Anything Lena asked for, Andrew would get in a heartbeat. One week she asked for a set of oil pastels, Andrew got her the largest box within the hour. She asked for pancakes, and he made them. The only time he was ever strict with her was when they were at Smurf’s, which he did his best to avoid if at all possible.

And with Mina… Well, he spoiled her with his time. With his space, his belongings. Whatever was his was also hers. He listened. Noticed. More than he should. 

He bought her things she hadn’t even realized she’d been running out of, like the citrus sunscreen she religiously applied for her own peace of mind. Or how he always dropped her off and picked her up from work.

She felt him near even when he shouldn’t be. On weekends when Andrew had to deal with his family, she’d run errands. Grocery shopping, art supply restocking, doctors appointments. More often than not–halfway through her day–goosebumps would erupt along the back of her neck. And Mina knew what that meant.

Andrew had found her. He kept his distance. Watched her out of sight.

Mina wondered if he knew she knew. She never brought it up. It should probably bother her, but instead, it made her feel safe. Cared for.

Loved.

The word blared in her mind, scrawled across her brain in crimson ink. Maybe, the reason she didn’t mind the stalking and the intensity were because she was just as obsessed, just as gone. Like she stated before, two fucked up peas in a pod. 

Her entire body tingled just thinking about it. She tried to distract herself from the crushing intensity of her feelings by making sure all the cans in Andrew’s cabinets were turned label forward–just like he preferred. They were already color coded, which was her doing. She was grateful Andrew didn’t mind her little habit.

“You ready for today?” She asked, trying for nonchalance. The silence hung heavy and answered her question. “It’ll be all right,” Mina added.

“Will it?” He asked suddenly and pointedly.

Her hands stilled, falling away from the cabinet. The coolness of the countertop seared into her palms. Her shoulders tensed because Mina knew exactly what he was referring to.

“I’ll be fine. I just needed to check. If I can’t paint it, then there’s no point,” Mina murmured, still refusing to meet Andrew’s eye.

Shuffling filled her ears, then warmth radiated against her back at his proximity. “You just needed to check?”

“Yes,” Mina clipped, turning to finally face him.

“For three hours,” Andrew bluntly stated.

An inappropriately timed giggle burst from her chest. Her hands shot up to cover her mouth, trying to take it back, but it was too late.

Andrew’s eyebrows raised at her odd reaction.

“Sorry,” she muttered, hands dropping back to her side, “It’s just you do the same thing to me while I’m sleeping. Kinda hypocritical, don’t you think?”

His eyes narrowed with a huff. “It doesn’t hurt me to watch you.”

The grin dropped from her lips immediately. Why did she think she could hide from him? Mina loved to paint, but forgery wasn’t about painting… It was about perfection.

“All perfection comes at a cost,” she whispered, like it was a dirty little secret. She shook her head, clearing it of the dread for the upcoming weeks. “Let’s just get through today. Okay?”

Andrew didn’t look convinced.

The small coffee shop bustled in the early morning hours on a Saturday. People came and went, windchimes twinkling in the ocean breeze every time the door opened and closed. Andrew sat stiffly in the driver’s seat of his truck, analyzing the shop like he planned to rob it instead of order coffee.

Mina’s fingers tingled to touch him. So, she did. 

She placed her hand on his forearm resting on the center console. The drive had been quiet. Not uncomfortable, but heavily silent. Mina knew he was worried about her, but she couldn’t think about it right now. All she could think about was getting through today.

Her fingers flexed against his muscled forearm, “I texted Deran, Craig, and J. They want large black coffees.”

He turned to her, “You texted them?”

“Yeah? I figured it’d be rude not to at least ask. And before you say anything, yes, I also texted Baz but he never replied so… He snoozes and loses. But since it’s a weekend, I’m hoping Lena might be there, so we should get her a cake pop. Just in case.”

“Are you trying to bribe my niece with…cake pops?” His chin dipped in an almost predatory way, but Mina knew he was teasing her–which caused a bolt of giddiness to shoot through her.

“Yes,” she replied with a nod and wide smile.

Andrew huffed, “You’re already her favorite.”

Mina pouted with an exaggerated sigh, “No, I’m not. Her Uncle Pope is still her favorite. So, if I have to bribe my way into the top of her heart, best believe I will.”

He shook his head at her with a cute little grin. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

She sat up in her seat, “Wait, do you know what I want?”

“Iced black coffee with caramel.”

She automatically started to murmur, “Until it's the color of–”

“A Michael’s Cherry wood stain. Two pumps of caramel, unless Vic’s working then it’s one.”

Mina stared at Andrew with wide eyes as he recited her, frankly, neurotic way of telling whether her coffee would be good that day. Not that she’d do anything about it if it wasn’t.

“How do you know that?” She asked, a bit breathless.

 Andrew just shrugged and got out of the car. Her gaze never left him even after he walked into the shop.

Loved.

Yeah, Andrew made her feel loved. And more than a little bit obsessed.

Mina handed Deran his coffee. "How was the surf this morning?"

The younger Cody brother eyed her suspiciously, "How'd you know I went surfin'?"

The Cody house loomed ominously over them, a gaping maw ready to devour anyone or anything. Mina’s eyes kept darting to the glass doors to check for any signs of bleach blond hair.

Baz lounged at the head of the outdoor table. J loitered near the edge of the pool. Craig made his way over, a mischievous smirk curling his mouth.

Andrew remained a stoic shadow at her side, a bodyguard ready to pounce at any slight inconvenience. She knew their little trip to the gallery freaked him out. The way she got during jobs like this scared her too, but it was part of the process. She wouldn’t be surprised if he started a twenty-four seven protective watch over her.

"Your hair. It curls more at the ends when you do," she answered nonchalantly.

Deran snorted, practically rolling his eyes. He murmured under his breath as he brought his coffee to his lips, "Witch."

Andrew tensed beside her.

"Kook." Mina threw back at him without missing a beat, a grin gracing her lips.

"Careful," Deran warned, "You and I both know only one of those is true."

"Depends on who you ask," she countered, knowing full well the Cody boys got into their fair share of trouble in and out of the surf. 

A small part of Mina beamed when Deran actually grinned, even though he tried his best to cover it up with a sip of his coffee.

Confidant. The role curled through her, settling easily. Mina liked Deran, so it was no skin off her back to be his friend. Having another Cody in her corner was always a plus. Although, she wouldn’t delude herself into thinking any of them would choose her over Smurf.

At least not yet.

Craig joined them, coming up short when he got a good look at Andrew.

"Are you wearin' purple?" Craig asked incredulously, glancing over at Baz as if to say, are you seein' this?

"It's not purple," Andrew replied with a twitch of his mouth.

Mina stepped forward, passing J his coffee. When Craig reached for his, she pulled it back and deadpanned, "He's right. It's not purple. It's lavender, which happens to be a different tint entirely. Cooler undertones from the added blue and white."

Baz actually laughed, "Wow. I'm glad to know Lena's art education is in good hands." His tone was far more genuine than it usually was, but to her disappointment, it seemed he had brought Lena with him.

Craig eyed her wearily before snatching his coffee. "Damn, Pope found someone just as weird."

"Are you biting the hand that feeds you?" Mina replied, tilting her head, a dangerous glint in her eye.

Somewhere behind them, Deran choked on a laugh. Craig eyed Andrew over her shoulder with a help me out look. Andrew passed her with a brush of his shoulder and a graze of his fingers.

Craig backed away with his hands up, muttering under his breath, "And just as scary."

Mina smiled, getting a kick out of her and Craig's sibling-like squabbles. However, her smile fell when she saw everyone gathered around the table, Smurf's breakfast spread immaculately placed. However, she was nowhere to be seen.

Baz and Andrew headed up the two ends of the table, Craig and Deran on one side and J on the other. She sat as close to Andrew as possible, debating whether to just sit on the arm of his chair, but thinking better of it. 

Smurf's absence concerned Mina, an uneasiness settling in her stomach, but a part of her was relieved.

"Okay, what'd we got?" Baz started, turning his attention to her.

What do you have for me, Mockingbird? Don't stutter. There's no room for mistakes.

Mina clasped her hands in her lap underneath the table to keep from grabbing her pendant. "The Gilded Pavilion," she began bluntly as always, "It's a small, exclusive gallery that curates traditional, high-quality pieces. They just purchased a John William Waterhouse for 935,000 dollars from a private collector. Ophelia. Painted in 1894. 2.5 feet by 4 feet…approximately."

The table remained quiet for a beat before Craig breathed out, "Shit." It was enough to break the tension. "You're more meticulous than Pope."

Baz leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Why this painting?"

"The medium is oil and the movement is romanticism. Both of which I specialize in. Pieces like this don't just... become available to the public often. Forging a piece like this will take time, but the payout is worth it if you have the right fence." Mina explained clearly and thoroughly. 

With an air of immense concentration, J asked, "How would you get it in and out of the gallery?"

She sighed, glancing at Andrew, who held her gaze like he was trying to send her support telepathically. Mina let herself fall into his hazel eyes while she answered, "That'll depend on you all."

She turned towards the rest of the table and continued, "I can create the forgery. And I have contacts in the gallery to get us access, but switching out the pieces will be your job. It'll be a delicate process. This can't be a smash and grab. Everything has to be perfect. If even the slightest thing is out of place, all the alarms will sound and there'll be no way to sell the painting. Nobody can know you were ever there in the first place."

Deran shifted in his chair, "Alright, so what're we lookin' at? In and out in...thirty minutes?"

Mina shook her head, "Closer to an hour."

"What?" He deadpanned, "You're serious? An hour? Spendin' that kind of time exposed...cops'll be on us before we get the thing on the truck."

Baz glanced at her, "I'm guessing you already have a solution."

Her hand fidgeted with the straw of her coffee, watching the color fade from a cherry wood to a caramel due to the ice melting. On the outside Mina presented a calm and unbothered face. Uninterested even, but on the inside, her nerves were shot.

Mina had done this plenty of times before. Her nervous system flared painfully for that exact reason. She shouldn't be back here.

"I need someone who can walk the walk with me on the inside as a cover," she finally answered.

Craig snorted, "You're serious? All of us dropped out of high school–besides the kid–so if you're lookin' for college smarts, you're not gettin' it."

Mina shook her head, iterating, "You're all smart. I have no doubt you can pull off any job you plan with your eyes closed."

The effect of her statement took hold immediately.

A twitch of softness entered Andrew's stoicism because he was the only one at the table who knew for certain her compliment was sincere. Deran and Craig eyed each other with masked surprise, sitting up a little straighter at her compliment. Baz and J remained relatively unphased, but she knew they noted it.

She continued after a brief pause, "But this is different. College doesn't make you smart. It opens doors. These aren't some L.A. pricks with daddy's money looking to gentrify your neighborhood. These people are old money. They're bloodhounds. So, I need someone who can morph. Shapeshift into whatever the moment requires."

"Who do you have in mind?" J asked.

"Originally, I wanted you," Amina said, plainly to J, who perked up slightly at being given a job, "But you're too young for what the plan's turned into. So, that leaves Baz or Craig." Deran's head snapped to her, confusion marring his features. Amina shook her head, "You're not her type."

Deran's eyebrows raised, but he held up his hands in surrender, clearly fine with giving up the role to one of his brothers. Suddenly, Baz laughed, making Amina's head whip towards him. "And what about Pope? He not her type either?"

Well, Baz had her there. She'd give him that. 

Andrew was exactly Yvonne's type, physically at least. She'd eat him up and Mina wouldn't be able to focus. She was selfish. Even the thought of Yvonne fawning over Andrew made her stomach churn, not only from jealousy but because Yvonne's flirting always entailed a good amount of petting. Mina refused to subject Andrew to that for a job when she knew touch was already a sensitive area for him.

Andrew's intense gaze burned into the side of her face, but Mina didn't flinch when she answered, "He is."

Baz leaned in like he was waiting for the but part of her explanation, but nothing ever came.

She tilted her head, daring him to question why. Craig's eyes darted back and forth between them, like he was watching a tennis match. Andrew finally interrupted the silent battle taking place, "I'm needed at the pickup."

Mina turned towards him, the sound of his voice and its unusual cadence settling her. Her shoulders fell away from her ears. The corner of her lips tugged upwards at the sight of him sitting at the head of the table. "He's right. He's the only one detail-oriented enough to switch the frames and secure the painting."

Craig snorted, "That a fancy way of sayin' he's obsessive as shit?"

"No, it was a nicer way of saying he's the only one I trust to do this part right," Amina answered bluntly, "And on second thought, I'll take Baz to meet Yvonne. She'd find your immaturity exhausting."

Deran snorted, "Ouch."

J brought a hand to his mouth to cover his grin. Craig threw his hands up, "Come on, man. You're such a fuckin' buzzkill."

"Come on, Craig," Baz cooed sarcastically, "He's just upset he won't be able to stick it in an educated chick. That would've been new for him."

"Fuck you," Craig exclaimed, slamming his coffee cup onto the table and wildly gesturing towards Andrew, "How's it that he's fuckin' a girl with a college degree but–”

The loud scraping of a chair against concrete burst through the conversation, followed by a clattering as it crashed to the ground. Amina's head whirled towards Andrew, who stood tensely at the head of the table.

A murderous glare etched itself onto his face as he stared down at Craig. Violence simmered off him in waves, uncontainable and pulsing.

Andrew's fists clenched at his sides, cheek twitching in anger and irritation. "Apologize," he gritted out.

So, this was the Pope everyone whispered about around darkened corners. The one who could snap at the drop of a hat. The boogeyman. However, all Mina saw when she looked at him was a man struggling to navigate and process the emotions boiling inside him.

Mina analyzed the situation with the speed of a racehorse at the starting gun. Getting in between Andrew and Craig would probably be a bad idea, even though she knew Andrew would never hurt her. It was always unwise to get between two people who were about to fight. Mistakes happened.

So, without standing from her chair, Mina grabbed his hand. The tension in his muscles made his it feel like she was grabbing hold of a rock. She kept her voice soft when she called out, "Andrew."

His lips pursed momentarily, before he let out a rapid breath through his nose. It reminded Mina of a bull. When his eyes shut, she knew she had him.

Craig refused to pull his gaze away from the threat, but everyone else watched what unfolded between her and Andrew. Mina finally stood, careful not to crowd and overwhelm him more. However, she considered it a good sign when he gripped her hand back.

Mina gently tugged him away from the table, "Will you come check the garage with me? I need to see if there's enough space to paint."

He didn't respond, but he also didn't resist when she started walking towards her destination. Mina would be happy to get away anyway. Frankly, she felt like a fish in a fishbowl. Constantly being watched. Her every move scrutinized and picked apart.

The stale, humid air of the garage hit her like an unexpected wave, but she closed the side door behind her. Andrew refused to meet her eye, still clearly upset if his twitchy movements were anything to go by.

"He shouldn't have talked about you like that." The hard edge tone of his voice was so unlike the gentle Andrew she'd gotten to know.

Mina tried to catch his eye, "Thank you for standing up for me. I know what he said was...inappropriate, but I've heard much worse. Much worse."

"Doesn't matter," Andrew bit out in response.

Her eyebrows furrowed, "What exactly is bothering you about what he said?" She asked it genuinely, because she couldn't exactly pinpoint if it was embarrassment, disrespect, or something else entirely.

Andrew looked at her like it was obvious, "It's not true." A tinge of hurt sparked in his eyes before he repeated, "He shouldn't talk about you like that."

She hummed in understanding. So, it was about disrespecting her, but Andrew also seemed to be just as sensitive about the truth as she was. Before Mina could stop herself she replied, "It could be true."

Andrew blinked and within a second everything about him melted. His hardened hazel eyes softened into pools of warmth, wide with apprehension. "But it's not."

"They don't know that," Mina coaxed, gently, trying to get him to see the other side, "Some random woman shows up in your life one day, practically lives with you, spends most of her time with you. I think most people would assume..."

Andrew bristled, "They shouldn't."

"You're probably right, but..." She shrugged, trailing off.

"Why aren't you mad?" Andrew asked suddenly with earnest confusion. "That woman at the gallery… she assumed the same things about you too."

Davion.

Even at just the thought of his name and the reminder of her mother, she flinched. Mina's breath hitched painfully, "That was different."

"Why?" Andrew pushed.

Her skin crawled from the phantom memory of his hands on her body. Sharp pain bloomed in her wrist where she dug her nails in, trying to mask the memory. Andrew glanced down at the movement and immediately bracketed her wrist and separated her hands.

Relief barreled through her when his touch drove out the memory of Davion’s. 

"I didn't have a choice. I–I didn't want to. Not with him," Mina finally stuttered out. "It's different with you. So different. I want you, Andrew. You're not a reminder of all the bad I've had to endure. You're a reminder of everything I've done right."

Something about what she said seemed to get through to him, because he ducked his head before making intense eye contact again. "You mean sex, right? That's what you're talking about..."

"I mean all of it," Mina answered honestly. "But I refuse to take anything you're not willing to give. If for you that only means companionship or partnership, that's perfectly fine with me. But if you're asking if I want to have sex with you, then the answer is yes. I want you, Andrew. All of you. I'm sorry if I haven't made that clear."

His eyes darted around her face, processing everything. "I wasn't sure. You don't owe me."

Mina immediately shook her head, pulling his knuckles up to her lips. She murmured against his bruised skin, "No. I've never thought that." Mina let their joined hands fall back between them. "Nothing has to change. Not if you don't want it to. I love the way things are now, but I will say... If we have sex, I don't think it's just going to be sex."

It didn't take him long to nod, even if she wasn't sure he entirely grasped what she was implying. Most of the tension had gone from his body, finally at ease as he verbally answered, "I know."

With that settled, she glanced around the garage, already deciding that it would work. Although willingly putting herself in Smurf’s crosshairs seemed like a poor idea, but it also allowed her access to more information. 

"You ready to go back out there?" Mina asked.

Without answering, Andrew's head dipped slightly and he stalked past her, leaving her behind. Confusion rippled through her, but she followed him back outside regardless. The blaring sun momentarily blinded her, but it did nothing to cover up the thwack that echoed across the pool.

Once her eyes adjusted, she saw Craig clutching his bloody nose. "What the fuck was that for?" He bellowed, getting into Andrew's face who didn't move a muscle.

Andrew rammed his head in Craig’s, not backing down even an inch despite his brother being taller. "You know what that was for."

Deran got in the middle, shoving Craig back, "Kinda deserved that one, man."

"Call off your fuckin' guard dog, Amina," Craig huffed in annoyance more than anything. 

Mina narrowed her gaze, arms crossing over her chest, "Have you still not realized when you say things like that it makes me want to punch you? Have you not connected those dots?"

"Well if the shoe fuckin' fits..." Craig murmured, pinching his nose and leaning his head back.

"Jesus..." Deran sighed with a roll of his eyes at his brother's stupidity.

Suddenly, an idea popped into Amina's head. The reason Smurf could ensnare the Cody boys so successfully was partly due to isolation. If they were isolated from each other–distrustful of each other–they'd be less likely to band together against her.

They didn't talk, so Amina would for them.

"He's not being a guard dog. He's upset for me. I've had to do a lot of awful things in my life, including and not limited to being sold as a bargaining chip. Think you can fill in the blanks about everything that entails. He's just being...protective."

For a moment, Craig glanced at Andrew like he saw him in a completely different light. However, Andrew only looked at her. Awe in his eyes and tension in his jaw, like she somehow took the words out of his head and voiced them out loud. 

With blood still pouring from Craig's nose, he sheepishly turned to her and muttered, "Sorry."

"It's all right. You didn't know," she answered earnestly while closing the distance between her and Andrew.

“All right let’s wrap up the kumbiya,” Baz jested, ushering them all back to the table.

While everyone’s backs were turned to settle, Mina rested her hand on Andrew’s cheek. She raised up on her toes and let her lips caress his temple in thanks. Before pulling back, she whispered, “You didn’t have to do that for me… I’ll take care of your hand after we’re done.”

Andrew blinked, clearly trying to calibrate himself after the affection she showed him. It seemed he still didn’t realize how deeply she felt for him. Mina would gladly unstitch her old wounds to sew up his. 

She took a deep breath before rejoining the table, taking a seat back next to J. She waited for Andrew to join them. Instead, a shadow fell over her.

When she glanced over her shoulder, he loomed over her. His hands rested on the back of her chair. Without words, he physically made a declaration of support.

The shield. Mina wanted to be Andrew’s shield, but in this moment, he was hers.

She turned to Baz. “I’m not interested in the money, but I’m also not going to undersell my value.” She crossed her legs, giving herself time to analyze Baz’s reaction. “Forty percent is my offer. It’s more than fair under the circumstances. All the supplies I’ll need will come out of my own cut. I can set up in the garage if you want to keep an eye out on your…investment.”

He smirked, “Forty percent? Forty-five and you have a deal?”

“Forty-three,” Amina countered, “I’m not going any higher. The three percent is a little extra for Smurf. I’m sure you’re going to cut her in. Where is she anyway?”

Something twitched in Baz’s eyes at the implication, but his grin never faltered. “She’s out. Had to handle some business. Don’t worry. Smurf’ll get her cut.”

Mina didn’t believe him, not for a second. If Baz used her job to move against Smurf, she would inevitably be wrapped up in the implosion of the Cody family. That meant she’d have to work quickly. She’d have to be the wedge between Smurf and all her boys. 

Inadvertently, she’d be helping Baz to make sure Deran, Craig, and Andrew take his side instead of Smurf’s. However, Mina had to figure out where Baz stood first, because right now, he could still be Smurf’s soldier. Everything was conjecture. And she never worked off assumptions.

Then, she had to consider J. At the moment, he was a wild card.

“So, forty-three? Take it or leave it,” Mina stated.

Baz looked around the table at his brothers, all of whom were in various states of agreement or uncaring. Finally, he nodded, “You have yourself a deal.”

Pope noticed the mess before the people. The mess was loud and the party wasn’t even over yet. For some reason, after Smurf came back from whatever business Baz mentioned, she had been adamant about throwing a Cody party.

“To celebrate my boys breaking new ground,” she cooed sweetly. “Come on, baby. Humor me.”

He knew better than to trust when Smurf decided to be sweet. Her kindness had never been true. Pope had wanted to leave, but he couldn’t leave Mina’s side. Not when Smurf had flashed her saccharine smile and insisted she stayed the night.

“You can stay in Andrew’s old room, baby. Come help me with the food.”

His name coming out of Smurf's mouth, especially in front of Mina, made his skin crawl. Her insistence even more so. Something wasn’t right. He’d lived with Smurf long enough to know when she was up to something.

Thankfully, Pope had sequestered Mina and Lena–who had been dropped off by Allison an hour ago–in his old bedroom, making the excuse that Lena shouldn’t be around all the drugs and the alcohol and the fighting. He stood near the door, a sentry to the only two people who could see him as Andrew and not as Pope.

“Do you want to play, Andrew?” Mina flashed her set of cards from where she sat on his bed with Lena.

His stomach flipped at the way she said his name, happy and teasing. He glanced at the two pairs of shoes resting perfectly on the floor next to his bed–one pair tiny with colorful laces and the other a bigger pair of yellow sandals. Even though Pope didn’t live here, Mina had lightly suggested they take their shoes off before getting into his bed, given his proclivity to cleanliness.

The gesture alone almost made him smile. “No,” he answered, “Keep playing.”

“You’re just afraid an eight year old’s gonna wipe the floor with you,” Mina jested, punctuated by a giggle from Lena.

Despite his blunt, monotone reply, his chest squeezed seeing his girls laughing. “You mean like you?”

Mina dramatically placed a hand over her heart, “Ouch. I’ll have you know Lena has a killer poker face. I’m still calibrating. Just you wait.” She turned to Lena with mock seriousness, “When I find your tell, your win streak is over.”

“No,” Lena laughed, picking up her cards.

Mina gasped, “No?” She shook her head, glancing at Pope, “She runs a hard bargain. You teach her that?”

Pope shrugged, “No, but she got her poker face from me.”

“Figures,” Mina huffed, good-naturedly. She brushed her unbound hair over her shoulder and threw her legs off the bed. “I’m going to need some more food before she steals more of my dignity in another round. Do you want anything?”

Pope barely heard the question. He couldn’t take his eyes off the slope of Mina’s neck, where her fingers grazed to push her hair back. Pope wanted to do it. He wanted to run his nose along her neck to see if she still smelled like the citrus sunscreen he restocked for her.

“Andrew?” Mina’s voice floated into his clouded mind.

His eyes snapped to her, too distracted to say anything, so he just shook his head. Heat coursed through him, followed by a wave of guilt for feeling those things in front of Lena. Pope tamped them down, burying them. By the time he got a hold of himself, Mina had already left.

“Uncle Pope?”

He looked to Lena, still sitting crisscross applesauce on his bed. Her head tilted back to look up at him, “Can we go to the beach tomorrow with Ms. Mina?”

“Aren’t you going to Allison’s tomorrow? Don’t you want to see your cousin,” he replied.

Lena shrugged a bit shyly, “I want to stay with you. I like it better. And I like Ms. Mina.”

Andrew’s heart swelled, the back of his eyes burning. He tried to swallow down the ball of emotion swelling in the back of his throat. “I like when you stay with me. And– And Mina does too. I’m okay with it if your dad–” 

All of a sudden, yelling broke out somewhere near the pool. Pope's blood went cold when an unfamiliar man's voice roared, "Amina!"

Within a second, Pope’s brain recalibrated. His body moved. He rushed to Lena, whose eyes had gone wide with fear. Pope picked her up, slinging her onto his hip. She buried her head into his shoulder, whispering, "Is Ms. Mina okay?"

Pope stalked towards the bathroom. At least he could lock the door from the inside. He set Lena on the lip of the bathtub and quickly crouched to her eye level. "Mina's gonna be fine. Stay here. When I leave, lock the door. Do not let anyone in unless it's me or your dad."

Lena nodded, "Okay..."

Despite not wanting to leave Lena's side, Pope stood and rushed to the door. Lena followed him, ready to listen to his instructions. "Stay here no matter what you hear," Pope reiterated.

His niece nodded with a devastating frown. She shut the door. When he heard the lock click, Pope finally allowed his instincts to take over. Protect. Attack. Protect. Attack.

Pope grabbed the shotgun he kept hidden in his closet. He threw his sliding glass door open to access the situation. People were cowering, dispersing. The music had been cut off, but Pope's eyes only zoned in on Mina.

She stood two steps away from the edge of the pool, hands raised by her head. Her lower lip wobbled as her eyes tracked every move of an older man towering over her.

"Did you think you could run? After what you did!" The man screamed at her, veins popping out of his ruddy face. "After everything Nora did for you! That's how you repay her!"

Even now, Mina gently responded, "Davion–”

Davion. The familiar name sent fire through Pope’s veins.

"Shut the fuck up!" He roared, then sneered viciously, “Amina. That’s what you’re calling yourself now, huh? Nora would’ve loved that.”

Pope's vision went crimson. His peripherals blacked out as rage erupted through him, making everything hazy. However, he was clear-headed enough to clock the gun Davion waved around. By the way he held it, Pope knew he had never touched a gun before.

Oddily enough, the chrome casing on the gun looked familiar. Alarm bells rang distantly in his mind, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

Pope took a moment to see where his brothers were. Baz managed to circle behind Davion's back, gun pulled. Craig continued to usher people out of the gate. And Deran stood closest to Mina, eyes locked on the gun Davion held. J had Nicky stowed away behind him near the grill.

Davion had his back facing Pope, which gave him all the advantage he needed.

“You don’t understand,” Mina explained, a lot calmer than she should’ve been, “Nora did this to us.”

Pope bristled at the way she had to placate the bastard who took advantage of her. Mina may have had to seduce him, but he should’ve known better. No self respecting person fucked someone they’d known since they were young, especially not when they’d been dating their mother.

Job or not. Mina never should’ve been in that position. One of the objects of his rage was already dead and the other one was right in front of him.

Pope stalked towards Davion silently. He carefully watched the movement of his gun as it swung around wildly. Pope made it halfway to Mina when a loud thudding crack echoed across the party. He blinked, unsure if what he witnessed really happened.

Mina doubled over, clutching her cheek. Not a single noise fell from her lips, even though Davion had pistol whipped her. His brave angel.

Pope lost it.

There were moments in his life where his anger got the best of him. Most of those times, he knew when to stop. He still had control, but the moments where he didn't... Those were why he had the reputation he did.

Davion never knew what hit him. Pope descended on him out of the shadows, ramming the butt of his shotgun into the side of his head until he crumbled. His gun slipped from his fingers and clattered across the concrete towards Deran, who immediately confiscated it. 

Davion fought on the way down, shouting expletives Pope couldn't hear. 

After a few more hits to the face, Pope hated not feeling his pain. So, he threw the shotgun down and continued with his fists. The ache of his knuckles meeting flesh and bone urged his bloodlust higher. Eventually, thuds turned into sickening crunches. Groans into wheezes.

There went his nose. There went his cheekbone. His eye socket. His jaw.

Pope knew how to make him hurt. How to make him hurt like Mina hurt. How to instill fear like he had done to Mina. And Pope would make it ten times worse. Soon the only sounds coming from Davion were warbled chokes. Once Pope knew he couldn't move, he stood, swiping the shotgun off the ground on his way up.

He pointed it at Davion's chest.

In the background of his mind, Pope might have heard his brothers calling his name, telling him to stop. Craig bellowing to the rest of the party goers to, get the fuck out! It all faded into nothing, because the man at his feet hurt Mina. His angel. 

Not only did he hurt her today. He hurt her before. Pope wouldn't let it happen again.

No one made Mina cower. No one. Not him. Not Davion. Not his family.

Davion choked on his own blood, coughing it up into the pool. Pope seethed, “You came to the wrong house.”

Fear and hatred swirled in Davion’s black eyes, his box dyed black hair slicked with blood. Fancy designer polo and slacks completely ruined. For a split second, the man’s gaze flicked across the pool. A flash of something crossed his bloody face before it fell away completely. 

Pope followed his line of sight to see Smurf standing with her arms crossed, completely unbothered. Smoke billowed out of her pursed lips, cigarette burning low. Pope knew that look. It was the one she wore when scrutinizing what choice he’d make next.

And there was always a wrong answer when it came to Smurf.

With a violent churn of his gut, a possibility crossed his mind. What if Smurf brought Davion here? Whether it was to hurt Mina or test where he stood, it didn’t matter. It would be another betrayal to add to a very long list. Pope readjusted his grip on the shotgun. 

To kill or not to kill.

Mina’s words from the previous night played in his head on a loop.

“I never told you why I came to Oceanside. I’ve kept it to myself long enough. You deserve to know… I’m not an angel.”

Pope waited. Listened. Mina’s breathing became shallow and her grip around him became tighter, like she thought he’d flee once he knew the truth. Little did she know, there wasn’t much she could do that would make him leave.

She was family. And Pope never turned on his family, even when they hurt him. When her grip loosened, Pope knew Mina was ready to talk.

“I killed my mother. Nora”

Four words. Four words that had gone through Pope’s mind countless times before shame and guilt swallowed him whole. When it came to Smurf, he thought about it. More than was normal, he assumed.

Pope turned until he faced Mina. Her cheeks were wet with tears he hadn’t heard fall. The first thought that popped into his mind wasn’t to ask why. He didn’t care why. He picked up enough over the weeks to know her mother deserved it.

“How do you live with yourself?” Pope asked. He needed to know how she was able to live with the demons in her head when the devil was already dead.

Would things be better if Smurf was dead? Would the sins he carried be lighter? If she was dead, would making amends be possible?

Mina’s eyes snapped to his, hurt flashing across her face momentarily until he added, “How do you keep going?”

The corners of her lips tugged downward as if trying to hold everything inside. Pope rested his hand on her cheek, wiping away any stray tears with his thumb. Mina’s hand covered his, anchoring him. Her other hand fell to her mockingbird necklace.

“You know,” she whispered, thickly, “I thought I’d feel relieved afterwards, but… I just felt empty. Hollowed out, only to be filled by her ghost. Everyday when I wake up and remember what I did, I ask myself if it was worth it. And I’m still not sure I know the answer. But there’s one thing I do know. My mother hurt a lot of people and now, those people are no longer hurting. Maybe, that’s enough.”

Pope shuttered. He was the weapon Smurf used to hurt people. He was her instrument of destruction. Pope could stop it. He could resist, but he didn’t.

Mina had. She stopped it all. She protected the innocent. And here he was…killing them.

Pope nuzzled his forehead into Mina’s, afraid she’d pull away after his full confession. “I killed Cath. Lena’s mom. Smurf told me she was talking to the cops. I held a pillow over her face until she stopped breathing. And–And I loved her.”

He waited for her to pull away, but instead Mina’s hand wrapped around the back of his neck. “I know,” she softly cried against him, “The night we met… You called me Cath. I put two and two together eventually.”

His eyes burned, head dipping into the hollow of her throat. Mina ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck almost as if to soothe him before she asked, “If she told you to do it again, would you?”

“No,” he answered immediately, shaking his head.

She cupped his jaw, tilting his head up to look at her solemn face. “You told me there was a possibility she’d have someone hurt me. You need to listen to me… please. Whatever Smurf says to you about me–if you don’t already know it–it’s a lie. I would never talk to the cops. Never. I have blood on my hands too. And no matter how much I don’t like your mom, I would never turn to them. I did that once before and it brought me nothing but pain. Never again. I wouldn’t betray you. Okay?”    

“You think I’d hurt you?” He choked out, already certain Mina would never betray him.

She shook her head with sincerity. “No, I don’t. But I do think she’ll do anything she can to drive us apart.”

Andrew clung to Mina, pulling her closer, “Won’t let her.”

To his relief, she wrapped herself around him, but her reply haunted him. “There won’t be a choice.”

Mina had been right. There hadn’t been a choice. Smurf was sicker than them all. There was no escaping her.

But he could free Mina once and for all.

Davion didn’t beg. He slumped back into the pool of his own blood, “Do it.”

Somewhere across the pool, Smurf smirked and Pope’s resolve hardened. “Gladly.”

Then, everything halted. His world shifted.

“Andrew!” Mina’s voice yelled, pulling him out of his murderous fog. 

Not Pope. Andrew. Even with the violence pulsing off him and the blood clinging to him like a second skin, she called out his real name. She might be the only person who could see him underneath all the darkness.

His head snapped up to follow her voice. She stumbled towards him, cheekbone already turning purple from the hit. Tears sat in her waterline, making her hazel eyes appear brighter.

His family all froze in various states of intervention, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting to witness their psycho brother become a murderer all because Smurf decided she needed to know how far he’d go for someone who wasn’t family. All because Smurf wanted blackmail, wanted something to hang over Mina’s head. Over his head. 

All because she wanted to drive them apart.

All because of Smurf.

“Don’t,” Mina exclaimed through a sob, “Don’t do this. Not for me. I don’t need your violence. I just need you.”

For as long as Pope could remember, violence was the only way he could protect his family. It was the only thing he could offer. The only thing he knew. An epiphany struck him.

After living his whole life in the dark, Andrew saw a small light at the end of the tunnel. It was the size of a pinprick, but it was there waiting for him. Smurf only ever wanted his violence. He exchanged his violence for her love, as fleeting as it came and went.

Now, Mina stood in front of him, offering something different. Not violence for love, but a choice to be better. Andrew had a feeling she’d love him either way, but she held out her hands, asking him to be better. To love her in a different way than he knew how.

With all eyes on him–but only one pair that mattered–Andrew put down the shotgun.

Even prepared for the worst, Amina had not fathomed the blowback of the downfall. She had not calculated correctly. The chessboard had flipped because her opponent had never been playing in the first place. Amina had confined herself to rules never adhered to and now, they’d all pay the price.

On a random Tuesday in September, Amina threw away every rule she held dear, every moral she clung to and revered. Every vigilant observation she filed away burned into ash. The blueprint no longer held the key, so now Amina would pay the price. Andrew would pay the price. Lena would suffer the consequences. They would all bleed.

On a random Tuesday in September, Smurf drew first blood in a war she’d always been waging.

On a random Tuesday in September, Amina recalibrated. She had mistakenly brought a knife to a gun fight. So, she threw out everything she thought she knew and clung to the only thing that made sense in the aftermath.

“Andrew?” Mina’s hand drifted over the other side of the bed to be met by the coldness of his absence.

The sheets whispered against her bare legs as she rolled over to glance towards the chair she usually found him in when he couldn’t sleep. She blinked the sleep from her eyes, trying to focus them in the dark. Even without the light of the moon to see, she felt the tension emanating from Andrew’s shadowed figure.

The warm spot her body created on the bed murmured in her ear to stay put, but her heart pounded to the tune of Andrew’s name. She pushed the sheets back and walked towards him. As she walked past the edge of the bed, she grabbed the blanket laid out on the foot, wrapping it around herself to ward off the chill.

It didn't take much for her to figure out it had been a bad night.

Andrew’s shirt and pants were pristinely folded on the bench near the window, leaving him in his boxer briefs. His chest heaved, but the distant look in his eyes concerned her the most–lost within himself. Slowly so as not to startle him, Mina kneeled between his legs at the foot of the chair. She rested her head against the inside of his knee, gently stroking circles on his thigh to coax him out of his restless mind.

His skin emanated heat like a furnace, especially compared to her icy fingers. Slowly, Andrew’s head turned down, blinking like he’d only just realized she was there.

“She’s not gonna stop,” he mumbled, “It’ll never end.” His hand tracked a path down her thigh until he cupped her cheek, an aggressive edge in the way his fingers dug into the back of her head like he could somehow meld himself to her.

Mina laid her hand on top of his, pushing her head further into his hold. “We’re gonna figure it out.”

The muscles of his thighs and forearms tensed. “She’ll take you from me too…”

A painful ball of emotion lodged itself in the back of her throat. Mina rose onto her knees before crawling into Andrew’s lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, cocooning him with her body and blanket to guard him from the world and create a smaller space he could control.

When his brain finally caught up, his arms snaked around her waist, crushing her body against his. Andrew buried his head in her neck, breathing deeply.

Logic was the only thing she could use to pull him back from the edge. Mina brought her lips to his ear, “We’ve narrowed it down. We know the angle of the threat.”

“The Trujillos are loyal to Smurf,” Andrew argued, his voice muffled, “They won’t turn on her no matter how much money we throw at them.”

“No,” Mina agreed, “But we can keep our eye on them. Knowing is power. And your brothers… They’ll watch our backs. I believe that. Baz already has Lucy on it. And Mateo will keep us updated on Smurf’s whereabouts. We’ll figure it out.”

Andrew lifted his head from her neck, tilting it up to look at her. His voice held no emotion as he said, “It won’t stop until she’s dead.”

Her heart sank, but her tone was sharp, “Her death cannot be on your hands. Do you understand me, Andrew? It can’t.”

“Why? She’s ruined enough. For Julia. My brothers. Lena. Why shouldn’t it be me?” He argued but not convincingly.

“You shouldn’t have to,” Mina countered, “As much pain and suffering she’s put you through, she’s still your mom. I refuse to let that sit on your conscience. I, of all people, know how heavy it is to carry.”

He shook his head, “It’s not enough.”

“It is for now,” she whispered, “We watch and wait.”

Andrew unwrapped one of his arms from around her and reached down between his leg and the cushioned arm of the chair. At first the blanket obscured what Andrew held in his hand, then he held it out to her. Mina sucked in a long breath, swallowing down a hiccup of uncertainty when she saw the gun.

Even without being able to see clearly, she knew the gun would've never been used and the serial number would be filed off. Andrew would never risk any of his past crimes, or his family's, being tied to her.

“Take it,” he insisted.

Mina grabbed the handle, testing the weight of it carefully. It was a good size. She checked the safety before sliding the clip out and counting the rounds. Twelve. “I hate guns,” she murmured to herself.

“I know,” he acknowledged, but they both knew it was for the best.

Toughen up, Mockingbird. Do what needs to be done. Things could always be worse.

Her mother’s voice played in her head like a broken record. Things could always be worse. What a bullshit way of thinking about life. Yes, things could be worse, but they could also be so much better. Mina would know.

She had Andrew and Lena, and for better or worse, Craig, Deran, and J. They were her family now. Mina made a new family after her old one went up in flames–her hand spraying the kerosene and lighting the match.

What she had now was hers and she’d protect it with her life. So, Mina took the gun and curled further into Andrew’s chest. “Tomorrow will be better,” she promised him and herself.

“We have to leave in an hour if we want to get back in time for Lena,” Andrew added.

She nodded, “I know. Just five more minutes.”

Just five more minutes. Just one more hour. Just one more lifetime.

The sun barely started to rise by the time Andrew’s truck pulled into the vacant, overgrown parking lot of Aureate Antiquity. Nostalgia shaped a fuzzy glow in Mina’s chest. Fond memories bathed in warm hues entered her mind–summers spent building fairy houses out of bark pieces and ivy leaves, hours spent picking through treasures and trinkets with a lemonade in hand, a soft hand running over her head and wiping her tears. Her childhood lived and died here.

Young Mina lived and died for the moments her mother left her forgotten for hours. Sometimes days. She craved the moments she could be a child and not a soldier.

Mina stared up at the brick building, sitting alone off a forgotten side street in Murrieta, a couple of hours northeast of Oceanside. It looked the same

Baz’s jeep pulled up next to Andrew's truck, shadowed by the lack of sunlight only just starting to lighten the sky from a star flecked black to a deep, navy blue. The truck  stopped rumbling beneath her before Andrew got out of the driver’s side and rounded the front of the car.

He opened her door just as Baz stepped from his car into the parking lot. Both men sized up the building. Rundown as it was, it still held a charm and whimsy that Mina always felt drawn towards. The black door had a large brass knocker shaped into a roaring lion. And the black sign hanging above had the name of the antique shop carved in gold.

“You’re sure they’re open?” Baz asked for the third time that morning–or night depending on how someone looked at it.

Mina glanced at the second story window on the far right. The left curtain had been pushed open. Few knew what that meant, but she remembered.

“Yes, they’re open,” Mina answered, patiently, “For us, she will be.”

She walked towards the front door, leaving the shadowed parking lot behind. Andrew stayed a step behind her while Baz brought up the rear. Mina reached for the knocker and let the brass handle fall twice in quick succession, followed by a pause then one more long knock.

The muffled booms echoed through the store, undoubtedly alerting her mother’s former fence to their arrival. It had been almost a month since Mina and Andrew had dropped off Juno with an assistant at a random warehouse north of Oceanside.

If it had been anyone else, Mina wouldn’t have dared leave an almost million dollar painting in the hands of a random assistant she didn’t know. However, Aureate Antiquity had always been reliable and Mina trusted the owner more than anyone. Plus, there weren’t many people with her specific skillset.

The muffled sound of footsteps sounded somewhere deep in the store, growing louder and louder as they got closer to the door. When it finally swung open, both Andrew and Baz reached for their guns tucked in the back of their waistbands.

However, standing in front of her was an old friend, the golden light from inside the store backdropped the woman in a hazy glow. Mina smiled at the evidence of her aging, grey hair streaked through her ginger pixie. A severe, almost emotionless, expression painted her face as her eyes bounded over each of them. Her nose twitched once, a gesture Mina remembered fondly.

Her crisp green pantsuit swished against her legs when she spun on her heels to walk back into her store.

She crooked a finger over her shoulder without looking back, “Follow.”

Mina did as she was told without hesitation. When she didn’t hear footsteps following behind, she glanced over her shoulder to see suspicion marring both Andrew and Baz's features. She gestured with her head to follow before saying, “Close the door behind you.”

The store still smelled the same, and for a second Mina was ten years old following behind her mother to meet the elusive owner of Aureate Antiquity. The notes of vanilla and honey were still the same. As was the warm flickering of candelabras set throughout the room and staged around various antique couches, tables, desks, and nicknacks.

Mina stopped when she reached the counter in the back of the main showroom, Remy already behind it and watching. A large black duffel bag sat on the counter to her right.

"Thought you got out," Remy said, her deep voice still soothing after all these years even if she was unimpressed in the moment.

She shrugged, "We never really leave, do we?"

Remy rounded the counter, eyeing Baz and Andrew, "Should've stayed gone, but I have to say... You look better."

Mins smiled, genuinely, "I am. A lot better."

"Are these your new…handlers?" She asked, closing the short distance between herself and Mina.

Remy knew nothing of personal space and to anyone else it would have been extremely off-putting, but Mina grew up with it. Found it comforting in times when her mother withheld affection. Unsurprisingly, Remy brought her index finger to Mina's temple and traced the outline of her face.

Mina tipped her head back, staring up at her. The picture the two of them must have made to Andrew and Baz had to have been close to a lioness checking in on her cub. Although, she knew they'd seen and experienced far more uncomfortable things with Smurf.

When her hand dropped, Remy jutted her chin towards the two Codys, "Which one's yours?"

Mina couldn't hide her lovestruck smile, "Andrew."

His heavy steps on the chestnut floor filled the room before he stopped at her side. Remy didn't move an inch, only flicked her eyes over him in assessment. However, Mina fully turned into Andrew, who already had his eyes on Mina, reading her every expression.

Out of her peripherals, Mina saw Remy nod before she stepped back and said, "I'll always work with you, darling. Don't bring me any more strays. He'll do just fine."

Remy eyed Baz with barely contained disdain, clearly sensing something she didn't like. Mina leaned into Andrew, whispering, "That means she likes you. She doesn't just work with anyone."

Remy pushed the bag towards them, “You outdid yourself with the Juno. The buyer was incredibly pleased. He was outbid during the last auction.”

“You’ve seen Mina’s?” Andrew asked suddenly.

The woman looked sharply at him, but not unkindly. “Yes. I never take a painting unless I’ve inspected the forgery myself.”

“Thorough,” Baz commented from behind them, impressed and uncomfortable.

“Always,” Remy answered. With the fluidity of a panther, she stalked around Mina making Andrew stiffen beside her. “I’ve already taken out my fee. I hope to work with you again now that your mother is out of the picture.” She flicked her fingers towards the front of the door, “You can leave the way you came.”

Mina grabbed the duffel and handed it to Andrew, who took it without a word. Baz started for the door, but Mina stayed put. “It was really great to see you again,” she said, sincerely and quietly.

“Sentimentality always suited you best, even when not deserved,” Remy hummed, eying her mockingbird pendant, “Go. You know flattery will get you nowhere with me.”

She grinned at the older woman but Mina knew Remy held onto her own versions of sentiment. The woman owned an antique business afterall. Just like all the past times, Mina bowed her head slightly and waited.

The tip of Remy’s cold index finger touched the middle of her forehead and dragged a path down the bridge of her nose to her cupid’s bow. Her way of saying goodbye. Odd as it was, the gesture comforted Mina greatly. Not only because of nostalgia, but because the woman who did it always fought for her in her own way.

Remy did what she could to make things easier for Mina when her mother became unbearable.

Mina turned her back without another word and didn’t look back. Andrew trailed behind her, meeting Baz at the door. Together they stepped back out into the parking lot, a light breeze fluttering through.

She took a deep breath, readying herself for the onslaught of questions, but they never came. Instead, Mina looked up at the lightening sky with a fondness. For the first time, she wouldn’t be leaving Aureate Antiquity following behind a monster. She wouldn’t be leaving as her mother’s mockingbird, but just as herself.

Andrew passed Baz the duffel bag as Mina said, “Any other jobs you want to do, she’ll fence for you, but she’ll only physically hand off the money to Andrew.”

“Or you,” Baz added.

“Or me,” Mina confirmed, “But I won’t be doing another job, at least not for a while. And especially not if Smurf’s involved.”

A grimace passed Baz’s face, “I don’t think Smurf’s gonna be a problem much longer.”

Andrew shook his head, “We don’t know that.”

“She’s been stealin’ from us for long enough,” Baz snipped, “We don’t need her anymore.

“Don’t underestimate her,” Mina practically begged, “There’re more people loyal to Smurf in Oceanside than not. Let’s just figure out how we’re going to clean this money first before you start a war you can’t finish.”

“I’m already on it,” Baz answered, “Everyone’ll get their cut in the next couple’a weeks.”

Andrew stared at Baz like he could read whatever plan he’d been hatching against Smurf. Instead of pushing it, he took her hand, “Come on. We promised Lena a day at the beach.”

Mina couldn’t tell if it was an intended jab towards Baz, but the effect remained the same. Baz’s eyes narrowed as his knuckles turned white around the handles of the duffel bag. However, when it came to money and jobs or spending time with his child, Baz would choose the former.

And maybe, he needed to be reminded every now and then what he was missing out on if he didn’t get his shit together.

The calm ocean water lapped against Andrew's thighs, his mind clear for once. Not numb, just quiet. The board underneath him bobbed with the waves, slightly off balanced because of the little girl sitting in front of him.

Lena kneeled on his board in the space between his thighs. Andrew ran his eyes over her head, making sure her scalp wasn't burning in the sun. Mina had tightly braided Lena's hair into two french braids that morning. Followed by slathering her in sunscreen, including the middle part in her hair.

The thought of Mina had Andrew looking towards the shore where his eyes instantly locked on her distant figure. He knew it was her by her silhouette, but also by the meticulously matching mauve long sleeve rashguard and board shorts. Not to mention the matching beach towel.

The way the sun reflected off the water made it look like her body was outlined in sunlight. Despite the heat beating down on him, Andrew shivered because she was his. It wasn't just some possessive thought he had to keep to himself anymore. It was true.

Mina loved him. How that happened, he wasn't sure, but Andrew stopped questioning it around the same time Mina started kissing him every morning like she couldn't help herself. Or around the same time he noticed Mina would grin to herself every time she saw her painting hanging on their wall.

Or around the same time he started referring to everything as theirs instead of his. Their condo, their money, not his. And that's exactly how Andrew wanted it. He never wanted that little painful tug in his stomach to go away when he couldn't see her or the hitch in his breath when she looked at him or the pleasant tingling that electrified his body when she touched him.

What Andrew felt wasn't tainted by anything, not like it had been in the past. No wires were crossed. No regret. None of it was made up in his head. She loved him and some days he had to keep reminding himself that she did and it wasn't just something he conjured up to make everything else hurt less.

“What about that one, Uncle Pope?”

Andrew pulled himself out of his thoughts at the timid sound of his niece's voice. He followed the direction of her pointing finger to see a small brewing wave coming up behind them.

“Looks good,” Andrew observed, then turned back to Lena, “Remember what I told you?”

She nodded and scooted towards the front of his board to give him room to start paddling. Lena watched as he used his arms to propel them forwards to catch the break of the wave. It was barely a wave, but that's exactly what he wanted so Lena could practice safely.

Andrew brought his feet underneath him, getting ready to stand and ride it out to the shore, “You ready?”

Despite the nerves rolling off her, she nodded. The wave broke and Andrew shifted to pull Lena to her feet with him. He compensated for her weight by maneuvering his own. It took all of two seconds before her giggles started to bounce across the waves, all evidence of nerves disappearing.

Andrew couldn't help but smile at the sound.

He kept his hands hovering near her just in case, but Lena was a natural. By the time the wave peetered out near the shore, Andrew could hear Mina's cheers from the sand. They rang out amongst his brothers whoops and hollers.

Right before he fell into the water, he saw Mina jumping up and down, sand flying up around her ankles. The ocean water splashed up around him as he jumped in, feet hitting the bottom easily. He held on to the board so Lena could stay afloat, but she decided to jump into the water after him, right onto his back.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as she monkey-crawled up his back. “I want to do that again!”

“Lunch first,” Andrew compromised, “Then, we'll go back out.”

Lena set her head on his shoulders, “Okay.”

By the time he got them out of the water, Mina was waiting for them with towels. Andrew crouched so Lean could hop off his back and run to Mina. She immediately started exclaiming excitedly, “Did you see us? Did you see?”

Mina’s entire face lit up, “Of course I did. You did amazing!” She held out her hands for Lena to clap, which his niece did enthusiastically before running towards her uncles to ask if they saw the wave she caught.

When she turned her attention to him, Andrew analyzed the way her chest hitched as she looked him up and down. The most breathtaking smile spread across her face, the apple of her cheeks turning pink.

“You looked good out there,” Mina finally said, closing the distance. She raised up on her toes and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek near the corner of his mouth. When she pulled away, her tongue poked out to lick her lips. “Salty,” she hummed, almost to herself.

His sleeveless wetsuit clung to his skin, making him hyperaware of every touch, including Mina’s lips. Andrew wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. A surge of need to be close overtook him with a vengeance.  

“The sun is making your freckles stand out,” she ran her fingertips lightly over his exposed shoulder. She kissed them like she loved them. Loved him.

"You're doing it again," Andrew observed his girl's buzzing energy as her eyes ran all over him.

Mina stepped back, "M'sorry. I know it can overwhelm you sometimes."

He shook his head and grabbed her hips to pull her back. "It's not bad," he answered quietly, "Just not used to it."

A soft smile spread across Mina's lips as she cupped his face. She kissed him gently. The smell of her citrus sunscreen wafted into his nose, turning his brain to mush. Andrew didn't deepen the kiss, but he let his shoulders relax inward.

Mina had a giddy grin when she came up for air and he knew what that meant. She leaned back in to kiss his cheeks and nose before trailing her lips to his jaw. Andrew burned under her affection. All of it foreign and overwhelming, yet also something he couldn't help but crave.

There was a humming underneath his skin to always be near Mina. A pull, a hunger, an obsession. It lived inside him now.

Mina ended her campaign by placing her lips on his sunburnt shoulder. When she turned back to face him, her chest heaved more than it had before she kissed him.

"So handsome," she breathed out, eyes sparkling.

Andrew had no idea what to do with that. His brain short circuited every time. His body reacted before his mind could grasp onto reality again. He cupped her cheeks and immediately she melted into putty in his hands. Something about the way Mina trusted him squeezed his chest until it hurt.

He nuzzled the side of her head, lips caressing her forehead and temple while he inhaled a lung full of her scent. Andrew had a hard time explaining the bursting feeling in his chest everytime he looked at Mina. Everytime she said his name. Everytime she touched him with reverence instead of disgust or fear or something sicker.

Words gave him a hard time because the path they took from wherever he felt them to his head always got messed up along the way. Andrew knew he loved Mina, but saying it was like trying to claw through a concrete wall. They sat in his throat, lodged painfully.

A part of him thought if he said it out loud, it would be taken from him. Just like Julia. Just like Cath. And Amy. If he spoke them into existence, someone or something would take Mina from him.

Andrew did his best to tell her in ways only she could hear, like now, he ran his fingers through her hair and tugged gently. Three times. Always three times. He needed her to hear.

Mina sighed in relief, her breath puffing against his lips, "I love you too. More than you know and somehow never enough."

More than you know and somehow never enough.

Despite the sun beating down on them, shivers went up his spine, because she understood. She loved him, sinner and all. Murderer and all. Pope Cody and Andrew Cody. She loved him more than he could comprehend, but there still wasn’t enough time to show him the expanse of it.

“Come on,” Mina tugged him further up the beach towards their setup, “Before Craig eats all our sandwiches.”

The warm sand kicked up around his feet as Mina pulled him along. She interlocked her fingers with his own when they rejoined his brothers, Lena, and J, encouraging Andrew to sit on one of the blankets she laid out for them that morning.

Lena sat on top of the cooler, staring his brother down. “Call off your little guard, Mina,” Craig huffed, eyeing the cooler like it was a safe full of cash and not just lunch, “I’m hungry.”

His girl smiled at Lena with pride, giving her a half five. Lena smiled shyly before moving off the cooler and giving Mina access. “Patience is a virtue, Craig,” she said.

Mina momentarily dropped his hand to riffle through the cooler. Andrew flexed his hand against his thigh, fingers still tingling pleasantly. Deran drew closer to the cooler, “The only patience Craig knows is the stripper over on Dogwood and even then…”

Craig slapped the back of Deran’s head, “The fuck–”

“Okay!” Mina exclaimed a bit louder than normal, as she slyly gestured towards Lena with her head almost as if to say, watch your mouth when Lena’s around. To Andrew’s surprise, Craig piped down, thoroughly scolded in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time–even with Smurf.

“What’s a stripper?” Lena asked, curiously, eyeing the exchange between his brothers and Mina.

Andrew’s stomach rolled at the question, while his brothers looked away like cowards. Instead Mina just smiled and said, “It’s a profession. A type of job, but you know what? I think based on your incredible eye for color and your love of building sandcastles… We’ve got a future architect on our hands, or an interior designer.”

He stared on in awe at how easily Mina guided the conversation, ultimately protecting Lena. No one had done that for him or Julia or his brothers. Andrew remembered the violence he witnessed as a kid. Remembered all the things he shouldn’t have seen or heard through the walls. He remembered the way Smurf used to touch him, and even then he knew it was wrong, but he figured love was love and it was better than nothing.

Now, the thought alone made him sick.

If Lena ever came to him, telling him someone did the things to her that were done to him, Andrew wouldn’t hesitate. He’d kill them.

Mina helped him realize how fucked up everything had been, not by telling him, but by showing him what love was supposed to feel like.

Lena fidgeted with the sand, “Do you have to do a lot of school for that?”

Mina shrugged, “It depends.”

“I don’t like school,” Lena whispered with a frown, “You’re gone and Mrs. Calhoun isn’t as fun as you. Or nice.”

Andrew’s heart squeezed, seeing all the things he missed when it came to Lena. She’d always been quiet, but it had been worse since Cath. Guilt burrowed its way into the love he had for his niece. He’d taken her mom away on the word of a woman he knew not to trust.

Mina ran her hand over Lena’s head in a comforting gesture, “I’m sorry. It sucks having to spend a lot of your time going to a place you don’t like. I didn’t like school either when I was your age. All I wanted to do was stay in my room and draw. All that being said, I wouldn’t have gotten to do what I love if I hadn’t kept going.”

“Does it get better?” Lena stared up at Mina with hope in her eyes.

“It did for me,” she responded, earnestly, “I’m sitting here with you. I’d say I hit the jackpot. But you have an advantage that I never had.”

“What?” His niece asked.

“You have five people here who’d do anything to make sure you succeed at whatever you choose to do or be. Six, including your dad. And you can always talk to us about anything,” Mina smiled with maternal love glowing in her hazel eyes.

Suddenly, Lena popped up on her knees and wrapped her arms around Mina, who was momentarily taken aback but recovered quickly. “I’m sorry,” Lena said.

Mina rocked her back and forth, “Why’re you saying sorry, sweet girl?”

“You didn’t have anyone,” Lena answered matter of factly.

Andrew watched the effect Lena’s words had on Mina, not just her but everyone. It was instantaneous. Her chest hitched the way it always did right before she’d start crying. Craig and Deran were doing their best to block out any emotion threatening to wrestle them down. And J watched on, but for once it wasn’t with indifference.

Mina whispered, “Well, I have you now, don’t I? I’d say it was all worth it.” She glanced over her shoulder at him, tears gathering in her eyes.

The look punched Andrew in the gut. Mina wasn’t just speaking to Lena but to him as well. No one had ever thought he was worth knowing until now. He couldn’t blame them.

When Lena finally plopped back down on her towel, Mina handed his niece her sandwich with a smile, “Here. Turkey and cheese.”

“Thank you,” Lena bounced excitedly, the previous heaviness rolling off her back like it was nothing, “Can I build sandcastles while I eat?”

Mina looked to him, passing responsibility. “Eat first,” Andrew answered simply.

“We’ll build all the sandcastles you want afterward, okay? Gotta practice those architect skills,” Mina encouraged her with a smile.

Once she seemed satisfied Lena had settled, Mina threw Craig his sandwich tucked in a plastic bag with his name written in sharpie across the front. His brother turned the sandwich over in his hands before muttering a quiet, “Thanks.”

Then, she threw Deran and J their lunches, both seemingly taken aback by the gesture. Mina shut the cooler and clambered over to him–the image of her crawling on her hands and knees towards him seared itself into his brain. Without any preamble, her sun warmed body curled against his chest, still gazing out at the crashing waves.

Mina held his sandwich up over her shoulder–crusts cut off–until he grabbed it. She giggled suddenly, Andrew could feel it reverberate against his chest. Her light, lilting tone directed towards J and Deran, “They’re not bombs. Just sandwiches. I promise.”

J stared at her long enough Andrew straightened up and snaked an arm around Mina’s waist, a spike of protectiveness going through him. Finally, his nephew said with a monotone, “You didn’t know I was coming today.”

“Nope,” Mina popped the p, “But I made you one anyway, just in case. And I have extras in the car too.”

Craig perked up, mouth full, “Extras?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, her shoulders grazing his chest.“I knew you guys would be hungry. Lounging on the beach, teaching Lena how to surf, building sandcastles… That’s some serious business.”

Andrew nudged against her jaw with his nose, a ball of emotion in his chest ready to burst. She leaned out of his hold momentarily to feel around the beach towel. Clinking sounded before Mina threw Craig the keys to his truck. “Here. Can you bring back the extras? There should be some popsicles in there too. The cooler’s on the floor behind the passenger seat.”

Craig caught them easily, a huge smile donning his face. He practically jumped up, “Got it.” His brother jogged up the beach towards more food.

Mina settled back against his chest. Deran and J were actually having a civilized conversation for once and Andrew had never seen Lena happier. Not since Cath.

Andrew leaned his chin against Mina’s shoulder before whispering in her ear, “Thank you.”

She turned towards him, a furrow in her brows, “Why’re you thanking me?”

“You did this,” he replied, looking at his family together without the heavy weight of Smurf hanging over them.

Mina shook her head, wavy hair brushing against his cheek, “No. This was all you guys. I just gave it a little push.”

Andrew wholeheartedly disagreed, but he kept it to himself. Singlehandedly, she pulled back layers of bullshit Smurf instilled in all of them so he and his brothers could see each other clearly. Enough that they could actually enjoy themselves without a fight breaking out or an argument separating them.

Without Smurf’s voice in all their heads ruining everything.

Mina did that. And Andrew had no clue how to thank her for it.

“Come on, Uncle J! Make sandcastles with us,” Mina encouraged over her shoulder, knowing full well about the rift between J and the rest of the Codys. Marked by the literal physical distance between them with J sitting further from their little camp.

If she could bring him further into the fold, maybe Smurf’s claws wouldn’t go so deep. Despite the rage J tried to hide regarding his estranged family, he was still young and could be negatively influenced. Although Mina believed J to be far smarter than he let on most of the time.

J walked over, emotions hidden behind his dark sunglasses, not unlike Andrew. He crouched down beside her, scanning the flattened area of sand before saying, “Think we’re gonna need a lot of wet sand.”

Lena immediately popped up and ran to get her buckets and shovel, “I got it!”

For the first time that day, a grin tugged up on J’s lips as he watched Lena sprint to the water with her bright blue and yellow pails banging against her legs. However, the minute he turned back to her, his smile dropped. 

Her stomach flipped. Mina opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but J beat her to it.

“I’m not Lena’s uncle,” J stated, his voice quiet but solemnly serious.

Mina tried to assess the situation, but J was hard to read on the best of days. So, she went with the facts until she knew how to play it. “Sorry, I know. You’re cousins. You’re just so much older than her so I–”

“We’re not cousins,” J interrupted, watching Lena dig her bucket into the wet sand while also battling the waves crashing over her workzone. Mina kept her mouth shut, hoping he would elaborate. And thankfully, he did. J took an irritated breath through his nose, lips thinning, “Lena’s my half-sister.”

Outwardly, Mina showed no reaction. Inwardly, her entire picture of the Cody family reoriented. Baz and Julia. Baz and Cath. J and Lena. Somehow it all made perfect sense and no sense at all. Mina wasn’t surprised Baz refused to acknowledge J as his son. He barely recognized Lena, even if he had tried to be better recently.

Julia haunted the Cody family despite rarely being brought up, but from what Mina could gather, her story wasn’t dissimilar to her own–an eldest daughter who went against the matriarch and lost. The only difference was Mina killed her matriarch after losing battle after battle and Julia, unfortunately, lost the war.

She wasn’t an idiot. All this talk of a drug overdose killing Julia may have been true, but Mina had no doubt Smurf had a hand in it. Whether it was kicking Julia out and isolating her from her brothers, introducing drugs to her in the first place, or the overall abuse, Mina blamed Smurf. Even without all the facts and just some simple educated guesses, she blamed Smurf. 

And Mina was almost positive J did as well.

A moment of silence settled between them before Mina replied softly, “I’m sorry. You deserve better.” She gestured towards Lena with her chin, “You both do, but you especially.”

“Did you know?” J asked, but she knew what he was really asking. Did Andrew say something to you?

Mina shook her head immediately, “I didn’t know.”

J analyzed her reaction for any lies. When he didn’t find any he turned away, “Doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Yes, it does,” Mina insisted, the sound of Craig and Deran bickering behind them growing louder. She sighed, rocking back on her heels to sit in the sand next to J after kneeling for too long. “This life… It’ll rot you from the inside out if you’re not careful.”

A sad, desolate grin spread across J’s face, “Is that a warning?”

“More like a cautionary tale,” Mina replied, fingers subconsciously toying with her mockingbird pendant. “I don’t know a lot about your mom, except for what Andrew has mentioned, but I do know what it's like being an eldest daughter to a Smurf. And without knowing anything else, I know your mom was one of the bravest people.”

J swallowed with a reluctance to reveal anymore. “No one talks about her. It’s like she never existed.”

“Because she broke the mold,” Mina answered honestly, “And Smurf hates anyone she can’t control. It's why her kids are the way they are. She erased Julia to hide her own failure.”

J’s face fell into a grimace, “It’s not an excuse…”

She shook her head, “What happened to your mom was horrible. Unfair. You’re angry at them all, I know.” Mina ran her fingers through the sand, trying to figure out the best way to redirect J’s anger at his uncles towards Smurf alone. So, she took a leap of faith.

Mina gently grabbed J’s hand, “Living underneath someone like Smurf… It’s a lot different than seeing it from the outside once you already know better. Years of questioning your own sanity until one day, you stop questioning. Years of walking on glass just hoping you won’t get stabbed. Years of chasing love from a mother who will never love you as much as she loves herself. Time breaks you down until you’re nothing but a shell who’ll do anything just to survive to the next day. From the inside, it’s all you can do just to survive. It’s different to grow up in it.”

J stared down at the hand Mina had settled over his, like he didn’t recognize what affection was or why she felt the need to comfort him. His voice lowered when he finally said, “You have to be careful.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Mina smiled sadly, “Like I said, I know what it's like.”

“You killed her, didn’t you?” J asked suddenly and without a lick of emotion.

Her features steeled, but her stomach flipped aggressively. Amina scanned all the paths laid out before her. All the angles and the tactics and the choices. Smurf and J were close, but Amina had a sneaking suspicion it was for survival and revenge, not genuine connection.

However, she could be dead wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Mina looked over her shoulder to see Andrew watching, his intensity standing out against the lightheartedness of his brothers. Her Andrew. Her protector. With one glance, her decision was made.

“My mother hurt a lot of people. The world didn’t lose anything when she died, but the hardest part of it all…was not becoming her in the process,” Mina cautioned softly. “Your mom deserved better, J. You deserve better. But I also think your uncles do too. I know you don’t trust me, or anyone for that matter, but I’ve already taken the path you’re going down. And I ended up with nothing. No one. Not even the satisfaction of being free. Revenge ended up being too bitter to swallow.”

J watched her carefully, absorbing every word before looking back out to the waves. “And what if I tell Smurf?”

Mina snorted, “She already knows. Threatened to frame Andrew for it so I’d stay away. We decided to call her bluff.”

As much as J had a legendary poker face, his raised eyebrows said it all. “She doesn’t have anything on you. Smurf couldn’t…at least not yet.”

Her ears perked up at the information. At the moment, J was closest to Smurf and from the way the information spilled out of his mouth, Mina doubted it was a lie.

“I didn’t want to risk it,” Mina elaborated, offering up her own piece of truth, “But Andrew convinced me to stay.”

J huffed out a laugh, a rare smile actually crossing his face. “It’s weird. Can’t really imagine you not being here now. With Pope. Us.”

Mina tilted her head, digging deeper, “Is there an us?”

He didn’t answer right away, clearly analyzing every flicker of emotion passing over her face. “Yeah. Think there is.” Suddenly, J sat up straighter before saying, “You remind me of her. On her good days, when she was clear. You look like her sometimes too.”

The first thought Mina had wasn't one of kindness or gratitude. Her mother’s voice infiltrated her head, whispering, manipulation, manipulation, manipulation. 

Had Smurf's claw sunk too far into J? Was he trying to plant a seed in her head that would later cause strife between her and Andrew? Was he carefully guiding her towards the edge?

Or was it genuine? 

The sentiment that she looked like his mom could have easily been a sweet one, but with J, she couldn't tell. If she pushed, would he bite back?

"Does it bother you?" Mina asked sincerely, trying to see what direction he'd take the conversation. If he pushed it towards Andrew, she'd know his game. If not, Mina would give him the benefit of the doubt.

"No, not anymore" J shook his head, "Reminds me why I'm still here." He shifted, checking over his shoulder before saying quietly, “I want in. Whatever you’re planning to take down Smurf. I want–”

“I got it,” Lena yelled, clearly out of breath trying to lug two full pails of wet sand back to their spot.

J hopped up to go help before Mina could answer. Her head still reeled from J’s confession. Could it be a play? Yes. However, it could just as easily be truthful. Hatred festered in him, rightfully so. She should be carefully analyzing her next steps, but all she could think about was Julia.

He compared her to Julia. Not just personality, but looks. For a moment, she wondered if Andrew saw the same. Mina pushed the thought aside, knowing full well if J had been trying to manipulate a wedge between her and Andrew, that’s exactly what he’d want her to think. And Mina refused to let a thought like that grow into something it wasn’t.

The sun drew closer to the horizon by the time Mina stirred back to consciousness. The sound of the waves and Andrew’s body heat lulled her to sleep after Lena, J, and her spent hours building the most elaborate sandcastle. 

It took her a second to unravel herself from the clutches of her nap, but when she finally did, Mina noticed Andrew’s toned abdomen was unnaturally tense against her cheek. She folded her hands on his sternum and rested her chin on top of them, looking up the expanse of his body to see his jaw clenched into oblivion.

Mina’s anxiety spiked and she quickly glanced around, checking for Lena. To her utter relief, the little girl was giggling with J in the shallow part of the ocean. A bit off to the right, Deran and Craig passed a football back and forth, keeping an eye on Lena. Mina shifted her attention back to Andrew.

As she did, something hard prodded her stomach and everything finally made more sense. "Andrew..." Her sleep ladened voice softly tried to relieve his stress, "You're okay. You're not making me uncomfortable."

"Shouldn't've happened..." He gritted out.

Mina pushed herself up so she could see his face better. "Why not?"

A war waged in his eyes, undoubtedly between wanting her closer and pushing her away. "You were sleeping," he finally replied, shame tugging his lips into a pout, "Shouldn't be getting fuckin' hard when you're helpless."

Mina leaned in and placed a light kiss on his lips, hoping to get rid of his pout. "Yes, I was sleeping. And do you know why I was able to fall asleep in a public place when I never could before?"

He shook his head, hanging on her every word.

"Because you make me feel safe," Mina concluded bluntly, "I know I can sleep when you're around because when I'm with you... I'm safe."

A groan emanated in the back of his throat, but she felt it vibrate against the hand she had rested against his chest. His hazel eyes searched hers desperately for answers.

Mina ran her fingers through his soft auburn curls. "Nod or shake your head. That's all you have to do," she instructed gently, "Do you always end up like this when you watch me sleep?"

There was a pause, but eventually, he shook his head no.

She smiled, hoping to convey she wouldn't judge even if he had answered yes. "Do you like taking care of me?"

His answer was immediate. Andrew nodded, eyes brightening slightly.

"Knowing I can let my guard down with you and only you... does that make you feel good?"

"Yes," Andrew murmured, surprising her with his verbal answer.

She rewarded him with another kiss. This time she swept her tongue across his bottom lip before pulling away, which may or may not have been for her own selfish reasons.

"How does it feel to see how happy you make me?" Mina asked, breathlessly.

The last bit of tension melted out of Andrew's body, eyes hooded with desire as he answered, "That's not a yes or no question."

"No," Mina grinned mischievously, "You graduated from those."

The beginnings of a smile graced Andrew's lips, taking the rest of the air from her lungs. "Good. You make me feel good. I–" he breathed out, at a loss, "Mina..."

She didn't let him flounder, "So, none of this has anything to do with me being helpless. It's about being happy knowing I'm happy. You assume the worst about yourself, Andrew. You're interpreting it wrong. You like making me feel safe and that's all there is to it. Nothing wrong with that. Okay?"

"Okay," he sighed, expelling all the negativity. However, he clammed up a little bit again before he said, "I don't want to do anything... about it right now."

The hesitation in his voice killed Mina. "We never have to do anything about it ever. Not if you don't want to. I'm happy just the way we are." She tried to reiterate the same sentiment whenever it came up between her and Andrew.

Clearly, his boundaries had been violated so many times he assumed she'd treat them as optional and not concrete. It broke Mina's heart knowing who broke his boundaries first.

Bile rose in the back of her throat every time she thought about it. Followed quickly by an overwhelming anger and thirst for violence. If she didn't know how Smurf's death would devastate Andrew, Mina would've already killed her.

"But you're not," Andrew finally said, the intensity of his stare piercing through her, "I hear you at night sometimes. In the living room when you think I'm asleep."

Her heart rose to her throat, a blush staining her cheeks. "Oh, Andrew. Just because I take care of myself doesn't mean I'm not happy. I'm sorry you had to hear it though."

"I like hearing you," he replied, sitting up and sliding her into his lap. Simple and to the point. It was one of the many reasons she loved him.

"Yeah?" She grinned, running her fingers through the curls on the back of his neck. "Kinda unavoidable unfortunately, given the proximity of the bedroom to every other room in your condo..."

"Not unfortunate," Andrew stated bluntly, before adding, "Our condo. Not mine. Ours."

Mina smiled brightly and repeated, "Our condo."

Their bubble of bliss popped when her phone buzzed. Mina fumbled around their shared blanket until she found it. She squinted to see her notifications.

She sighed, "Mateo's here." The young man had been extremely thorough and helpful the past few weeks.

Mina sat up and Andrew followed, but she grabbed one of the extra towels from her bag and placed it on top of his lap. She smirked, teasingly, “Don’t think you want to be giving Deran and Craig an eyeful. I’ll be back.”

The sharp look in his eye told her exactly what he was about to say, “No, I'm comin' with you."

Mina shook her head, "Lena needs you. I'll take Craig and Deran. Deal?"

He hesitated. He always did when it came to her leaving his immediate sight. His lips pursed with irritation and stress, but he nodded. She got up as he called out, “Craig. Deran. Go with her.”

Both brothers turned towards them, Deran throwing the ball down near the cooler as they closed the distance. She explained quickly, “I’m meeting Mateo near the ice cream truck. Should only take a minute.” 

Immediately, the lightheartedness of the day dwindled. Deran and Craig’s faces morphed into men about to step into a warzone and not just watching her back as she talked to a teenager.

"We got her," Deran promised Andrew, a clear tether between them glowing brighter than Mina had ever seen.

Craig clapped Andrew on the shoulder before she started walking towards the ice cream trunk where Mateo waited. She patted her pockets to make sure she still had the cash on her.

“So… This Mateo guy helpin’any?” Craig tried to ask nonchalantly, but failed miserably.

She ran her fingers over her eyebrow to soothe herself, “Yes and no. He gave us the Trujillo lead, but I think the constant updates on Smurf is actually making Andrew’s stress worse. It helps him feel like he has control over the situation, but we still don’t know enough. Don’t think we will until the shoe finally drops.”

“You actually think Smurf’ll try to frame him just to get you out of the picture?” Deran asked, not accusingly, but genuinely curious.

“I think she’ll do anything to make sure you guys don’t unite. Can’t be unionizing on her watch,” Mina answered, throwing in some levity, but the seriousness of the situation couldn’t be understated.  “Which can be accomplished multiple ways, I guess.”

Deran ran a hand through his hair, a severe look on his face. They reached the ice cream truck and Mina immediately spotted Mateo. Bouncy, brown curly hair hung just above his shoulders. His round cheeks were still boyish and jovial.

Mina smiled as she approached, Craig and Deran posting up behind her. “Hi, how’s everything?” She gestured towards the new, but already worn, skateboard leaning up against his leg.

“Good,” Mateo smiled brightly, “Got a new board and my girlfriend a sorry gift like you suggested.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mina laughed, “She take you back?”

“Hell yeah she did,” he chuckled, “Couldn’t resist this for long.”

She shook her head good naturedly, “All right, what’d you got for me this week, Casanova?”

Mateo took a step closer and pulled out his phone, “Got her goin’ to the same car repair shop I told you about… Three times. She goes, but never leaves her car. I got some pictures though.”

He handed her his phone and Mina brought a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun. She scrolled through the photos, all pretty high quality given who she hired to tail Smurf. The same older man showed up in all of them, but what she was more curious about was the young girl hanging in the background of every one.

She pointed to her, turning the phone back around to show him, “Can you tell me anything about her?”

Mateo looked momentarily excited she even asked, “Yeah, somethin’ ain’t right with her. She’s always there, workin’, but she’s always watchin’ everything Pete does. Looks all sweet and shit, but think she’s in on it all. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Mina sighed, “I definitely know what you mean. Thanks, Mateo.” She pulled out the wad of cash in her pocket and discreetly handed it to him.

He slid it into his pocket, “No problem.” His board clattered against the ground when he dropped it in front of him, “See ya next week!”

Mina watched as he skated through the crowd with ease. It reminded her a little of Andrew. She wondered what he would’ve been like if he’d gotten a normal childhood. Would he have skateboarded around Oceanside like Mateo? Worked at the skate shop on the boardwalk? Who would he have been?

Deran and Craig fell into step with her as she made her way back to their spot on the beach. Her mind raced and the quietness between the three of them felt unnatural. She felt Deran shooting glances over her head at Craig, not knowing how to soothe the storm brewing inside her.

A thought entered her mind with the force of a gunshot.

"You know... I heard you guys that day in hospital," Mina finally said, abandoning her attempt to seem put together as the weight of everything slumped her shoulders.

Craig glanced at Deran before saying, "You did?"

She nodded, "And I want you to know that I'm gonna take care of him. I want to take care of him, but that doesn't mean I don't want you guys around. He's your brother. He needs things from you that I can't give him. I can only add, but I can't fill. You can fill the hole Smurf left. You're better together."

Deran rubbed the back of his neck while Craig looked off into the distance. Mina knew big emotions were tough for the Cody boys, especially when they were positive ones.

The younger Cody finally said, voice rough, "You're good for him."

Craig scoffed good naturedly, "For all'a us probably."

Tears burned her eyes, their acceptance like balm to her shredded soul. Mina always wanted siblings growing up and she couldn't lie to herself and say she hadn't craved it. A stray tear rolled down her cheek. 

"I just–" she used her sleeve to wipe underneath her eyes, "I need all of you to be all right. Okay? No fucking around." She tried to add a little levity, "Because I'll burn this shit to the ground if anything happened to any of you."

"Well shit," Craig chuckled through the thickness in his voice, "I actually believe you."

Mina smiled, tears still glimmering in her eyes, "You better."

Deran shook his head with a grin and red rimmed eyes, "Guess we're stuck with you, huh?"

"Oh yeah," Mina replied without hesitation, "Thick and thin. Blood and water."

Deran's eyebrows furrowed, "Isn't the saying, blood is thicker than water, or something? Kinda defeats the point..."

Mina glanced towards Andrew doting on Lena. "Actually, the original saying is, the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. It means, chosen family can form stronger bonds than blood or biology."

Craig and Deran both followed the direction of her gaze to see Andrew and Lena playing together. Lena laughed. Andrew smiled. J played along.

Craig dipped his chin, "Yeah, alright. Thick and thin. Blood and water." He repeated it with more conviction than she'd ever heard Craig say anything.

The weight of the vow hung heavy between them. Then, Deran added with determination, "Thick and thin. Blood and water."

A completed vow. An oath promised to a new chosen family. A promise to remember blood wasn't the only family who mattered. 

"I always wanted a little sister," Craig said, slinging his heavy arm over her shoulder and nearly putting her into a headlock. Mina jabbed her fingers into his side, causing him to groan and spring away from her. The easy going grin never dropped from his face. Although Craig paused once they were in earshot of Andrew, "Wait, how old're you?"

"Twenty-eight," Mina responded without much thought, counting down the seconds until she could be in Andrew's arms again.

"Holy shit, Pope's robbin' the cradle," Craig raised his voice to catch Andrew's attention.

Deran huffed underneath his breath, "Jesus Christ."

Mina couldn't help it when she jested back under her breath so only Craig could hear. "At least he didn't steal his nephew's underage girlfriend."

Craig stopped walking, but Mina and Deran kept going. “Hey!” He called out from behind them, “That was one time!”

As their beach day winded down, Baz called a family meeting at the Drop. To which Deran rolled his eyes and said under his breath, “Why’s it always gotten be at my place?”

“It’ll still be closed for another hour and a half,” Craig reasoned, “And we’re not goin’ to Smurf’s.”

It took all of ten minutes to pack everything up, Lena scooped up into Andrew’s arms to be dropped off at her aunt’s before they made their way over. They all went their separate ways, J included, who promised to be at the meeting after Andrew’s insistence.

Once Lena was dropped off with her overnight bag, they headed over. Mina’s heart in her throat as she rehashed her meeting with Mateo. When they got to the Drop, Andrew squeezed her hand, “You sure you don’t want to join?”

She shook her head, “I’ll stay out of this one. I’m too tired to pay attention anyway. You’ll fill me in after.”

Andrew dipped his chin in acknowledgement, staring at her for a second before disappearing into the back room with his brothers and nephew. Mina slumped on a stool at the bar, picking up one of the dirty rags Deran left on the counter and wiping her area down so she’d feel better about laying her head down on it.

The front door to the Drop opened with a creak. Mina glanced at the clock behind the bar.

"We're not open yet," Mina called out, wiping down the counter for the third time. Her tired mind played tricks on her about whether or not something was actually clean if it had been cleaned with something already dirty.

Andrew, Deran, Craig, and J voices floated through the silent bar, muffled by the distance and the closed door. They were still waiting for Baz, which finally made her look up at whoever came through the door, wondering if it was him.

Immediately, Mina froze, a chill going up her spine.

"You're Pope's girl, aren't ya?" A young man stood in the middle of the bar, a cocky smirk twisting sinisterly. His eager shark eyes ran up and down her body.

Mina dropped the dirty rag onto the counter with a thud, tapping her hands on the counter to draw his attention away from the glance she threw at the closed door of the backroom. She already knew this wouldn't end well. 

When she snapped her eyes back over the man, she noticed one of his tattoos peaking out above the collar of his shirt. Mina recognized it. And suddenly, time slowed. Completely grinding to a halt.

Trujillo.

He closed the distance, leaning against the bar.

Mina gave herself two minutes to gauge him. Two minutes to get a grasp on the man who had undoubtedly been sent to kill her. Smurf was too cowardly to do it herself, so she paid up. And the Trujillo's sent a trigger happy kid with a psychotic glint in his eye.

However, it occurred to her that Smurf wouldn't leave anything up to chance. She'd request the time, the day, the place. She needed the control. What made Mina sick was, there was no way Smurf didn't know Andrew would be here. She wanted him to see it happen.

Mina refused to be another person taken from Andrew by his own mother.

Her mind narrowed to two things: now and two minutes from now.

"Says who?" Mina replied, barely turning towards the man, who couldn't be older than twenty-five.

He moved like a guy who thought he ruled the world, but would soon realize he didn't know shit. "What're you on about?" He asked, more aggressive than his previous approach.

Mina shrugged, but turned towards him fully so her back faced towards the bar. The cool metal of the gun Andrew gave her dug into the small of her back. A heavenly reminder. She slyly ran her hands down her waist like she was wiping off the excess wetness from the rag.

"I wanna know who told you I was Pope's girl?" Mina reiterated, slowing down her words like she was speaking to one of her third graders.

The man scoffed, "Who fuckin' cares? Answer the question, bitch."

Mina leaned forward, filling his vision with her face as her hand trailed behind her back to grab the handle of her gun. "Trust me," she whispered, "It matters a great deal."

While his eyes were busy roving over her lips like a fucking amateur. Mina drew her gun and shoved it underneath his chin before he could so much as take another breath.

To his credit, he didn't flinch. Although, he had the rug-pulled-out-from-underneath-him look plastered on his face. "Shoulda fuckin' killed ya right when I saw ya. Seein' your brain matter spray across the ground... Probably woulda made the psycho hard as a rock."

Mina dug the barrel of her gun further into the soft palette underneath his chin. Her facade fell perfectly into place: the girl of Oceanside's psycho. She stitched the mask to her skin, each needle stitch wove perfectly between the truth and deceit. Nausea violently rolled through her gut the tighter she sewed the seams.

Unrest brewed in the emptiness of the bar. Murmurs from the backroom melodically floated around them, adding an uneasy backdrop to the moment balancing on a knife's edge.

"It's okay," she feigned sickly sincerity, "I'll just have to gift him yours. Although, the clean up’ll be a bitch."

"Fuckin' puta," he spit at her.

Her two minutes were almost up. She needed confirmation. Needed something to confirm Smurf was behind this.

"Tell Smurf I said hi," Mina breathed out.

The guy chuckled, shivers going up her spine. Mina missed something. What did she miss? What didn't she calculate for? What? What? What?

"Nah," he gritted out through spite and deranged joy, "We ain't here for you."

Mina's heart dropped. We. Not I. We. She'd been a target, but not the priority.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Suddenly, three shots rang out. The sound of each of them pierced through her with a violence she couldn't comprehend. Terror twisted her gut, bile rising to the back of her throat. Somehow, the shots sounded isolated, but also everywhere all at once.

Thudding footsteps sounded from the back of the bar as Mina finally yelled out, "Andrew!"

All the Codys surged into the room, guns drawn and wild eyes analyzing the area. Andrew headed the pack, taking in the scene in front of him, while Deran and Craig ran to the front of the bar towards the sound of the shots.

Mina's thoughts were going a mile a minute. She wasn't the intended target. Who else? Who else?

Everything clicked too late. Tears filled her eyes as she gasped out, "Andrew! Baz! It's Baz!"

Her incoherent screams were enough to get the message across, because Andrew's face fell. Mina didn't waste a second, she drew her gun back and rammed it as hard as she could into the man’s temple. He crumbled to the ground near her feet, but he was still conscious.

She dropped next to him and brought her gun down on his head over and over again until he stopped moving. Until the thudding turned to squelching. Until blood decorated his face.

Chaos erupted around her. Everything blurred as she sunk to the ground. Andrew rushed to the front door, but by the time he got there, Deran and Craig had already dragged a bloody Baz in from the street.

He was too pale. There was too much blood. Three shots to the chest. Three.

Mina had calculated wrong.

Shouting, too much shouting entered in one ear and out the other.

Get me some clean rags!

Get the kit!

We have to get him to Tijuana!

He’s not gonna make it there!

They hoisted Baz onto the pool table, J swiping all the balls onto the ground. Each thudding loudly, adding to the cacophony of noise. It was Andrew who climbed onto the table to push his hands into the worst of Baz’s wounds, trying and failing to stop the bleeding.

“Baz!” Andrew roared, ripping a hole in Mina’s heart.

Baz gripped onto Andrew's shirt with the last bit of his strength as Deran, Craig, and J scrambled to get ready to perform an amateur version of a surgery Mina knew wouldn’t work. Her vision blurred, watching the scene in front of her unfold when there was nothing she could do.

Not for Baz. Not for Andrew. Not for any of them. Mina had been the catalyst for this.

Slurred words quieted everyone as Baz spoke with an urgency, staring up at Andrew. "Pope... She made you do it. Smurf. Wanted us to kill each other, but you're– You're my brother. Always."

A sob tore out of Mina's throat. Smurf told Baz about Cath hoping he’d come here wanting to kill Andrew. That’s why Baz had been late, but the Trujillo’s fucked up the timing.

Andrew would never forgive himself for Cath, but with Baz’s dying breath he forgave his brother.

Blood bubbled out of his mouth, gurgling sounds filling the bar. Mina cupped her hands over her ears as red tinted memories came flooding back. The blood splatter. The screaming. Her mother choking on her own blood.

Yells filled the bar, frantic and desperate, but it was too late. Baz laid limp on the pool table, eyes unblinking.

Once a mockingbird, always a mockingbird.

In the violent chaos of the Cody family fracturing, Mina finally understood.

Violence did not beget peace. And those who chose the latter were forgotten and deemed as lesser, because violence never let peace forget who held all the power.

Violence did not beget indifference, because violence needed company. It needed companions in its ferocity. In its viciousness. Needed to inflict pain to push down suffering.

Violence begot violence. What else could it breed?

Even prepared for the worst, Amina had not fathomed the blowback of the downfall. She had not calculated correctly. The chessboard had flipped because her opponent had never been playing in the first place. Amina had confined herself to rules never adhered to and now, they’d all pay the price.

On a random Tuesday in September, Amina threw away every rule she held dear, every moral she clung to and revered. Every vigilant observation she filed away burned into ash. The blueprint no longer held the key, so now Amina would pay the price. Andrew would pay the price. Lena would suffer the consequences. They would all bleed.

On a random Tuesday in September, Smurf drew first blood in a war she’d always been waging.

On a random Tuesday in September, Amina recalibrated. She had mistakenly brought a knife to a gun fight. So, she threw out everything she thought she knew and clung to the only thing that made sense in the aftermath.

Violence begot violence until everyone was dead.

If violence was the answer, then so be it.