Slept with one Twin...and Fell for the Other

Chapter 14

Bellamy POV

The painting haunted me.

It didn’t just look like me—it was me. The same eyes. The same loose waves in my hair. The way she stared at the ocean like she was trying to solve the mystery of her own life.

And when I’d asked Tristan about it, he’d shrugged and said, “Just someone from my imagination.”

Yeah, right.

Why lie? Why pretend like he hadn’t been studying me enough to paint me from memory? Why act like I was just another face in his head? Unless…

Unless he was the man I spent that night with.

Unless he knew.

Unless he remembered everything.

I went to sleep that night with those thoughts spinning like a storm in my head. But despite everything, I slept surprisingly well. The bed was soft, the sheets smelled like salt and sun, and even the chirping of crickets outside felt like a lullaby.

It was a little too warm in the room, though. So when morning came and I opened the window, the ocean breeze rushed in like a gift from heaven. I closed my eyes and let it cool my face, the salty scent settling on my skin.

I made my way downstairs where Tristan had already set a plate on the table for me. Just simple bread and scrambled eggs—but warm. Fresh. Kind.

“You sleep alright?” he asked, pouring himself coffee.

“Yeah,” I said, sitting down. “Your resort has surprisingly cozy beds for a place with no power.”

He smirked. “You’re welcome.”

I chewed a bite of egg before asking, “What’s the plan for today?”

“Well,” he said, stretching slightly, “there isn’t much left to clean until my brother sends help. So… you want to go swimming?”

I blinked. “Seriously?”

He grinned. “It’s Eden. You can’t stay here and not swim.”

“True,” I laughed. “Okay, I’m in.”

—

The water was crystal clear and warm, the sand soft beneath my feet. I’d slipped into the only bikini I brought—thank God I packed one—and joined Tristan by the shoreline.

“You sure you’re not gonna drown?” he teased, wading into the water with long, confident strides.

“I swam before I walked,” I tossed back, splashing water in his direction.

“Oh really?” he smirked. “Then you won’t mind this.”

Before I could move, he kicked up a wave that splashed right into my face. I sputtered and wiped the water from my eyes.

“Rude!”

“You started it.”

I dove under the water, swam up behind him, and flicked more water into his face.

“Bellamy!” he shouted, laughing as he stumbled. “This is war now!”

We splashed and played like kids, tossing water at each other, daring the waves to knock us over. At one point, I picked up a handful of seaweed and tossed it onto his head like a crown.

“King of Eden,” I announced.

“You’ll regret that,” he said, lunging at me—but I shrieked and swam away before he could catch me.

It felt good. To laugh. To forget, just for a moment, everything hanging over my head.

After nearly an hour, we finally dragged ourselves back to shore, dripping and breathless.

“I’m starving,” I said, wringing water from my hair.

“Let’s do a late lunch-slash-early dinner,” Tristan said. “You cook. I’ll clean.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You trust me in your kitchen?”

“No,” he said, already walking toward the house. “But I’m desperate.”

—

I changed into dry clothes and headed into the kitchen with what little we had. I found a can of coconut milk, some spices, and frozen chicken that was barely holding on in the half-melted cooler.

“I’ll make a coconut curry chicken,” I mumbled to myself, chopping onions.

It actually started off well. I sautéed the onions, garlic, and added a bit of chili powder and thyme. The smell filled the space and made my mouth water.

But when I reached over to stir the chicken in the hot pan, I wasn’t paying attention—and my hand hit the edge of the skillet.

HISSSSS.

“Ahhh!” I screamed, yanking my hand back.

Almost instantly, footsteps thundered across the deck.

“Bellamy?” Tristan burst in, eyes wide. “What happened?!”

“I—I burned my hand,” I whimpered, cradling it.

“Let me see,” he said, gently pulling my hand into his.

He examined it closely, his brows furrowed with worry. “It’s red, but not blistered. Still bad enough. Sit down.”

He led me to the sink and ran cold water over it. The relief was instant but sharp.

“God, you scared the hell out of me,” he said, voice softer now.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, watching him in awe.

He was so focused. So careful. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a tiny first aid kit, wrapping my hand in gauze like he’d done it a hundred times.

“You didn’t have to come running like that,” I said quietly.

He looked up, meeting my eyes. “Of course I did.”

And I just sat there. Watching him. Feeling my heart twist in my chest.