Hud laughed and then grabbed his rib cage and caught his breath. “I don’t think they say that.”

“No, they don’t.” Jay stared at his shoes for a moment and then back to his brother.

“Are we still cool?” Hud asked.

Jay nodded. “Look, I still think you’re a dick. And I’m probably going to think that for a while. But yeah, we’re OK. We’ll be fine.”

They were quiet for a moment, the world still recalibrating between them.

“So I guess we’re both sticking around Malibu for a while then.”

Hud nodded. “Yeah, although …” he said. “I was actually thinking of photographing Kit. Seeing if I can sell the photos to Surf.”

“Kit? Really?”

“She’s good, Jay,” he said. “She’s … outrageously good.”

Jay nodded slowly, realizing he already knew that. “Yeah, OK,” he said, thinking of how brash Kit could be in the water, how daring. He was imagining just how great the photos could be—she’d be something new and exciting, like Nina had been but she’d be bold, going for big waves and sharper moves, like him. Maybe she was the best of all of them. Maybe, Jay thought for a second, she’s the whole point.

“She’s good and we’ll help her be the best,” Jay said. “Maybe one day Kit takes the Triple Crown. Maybe that’s our new goal.”

Hud put out his hand and Jay shook it, and they ushered in the next chapter of the Riva dynasty.

Two hours later, after Hud’s nose had been reset, Jay drove him to Ashley’s house.

There, at her front door, Hud Riva got down on one knee and proposed. Jay watched from the car as Ashley said yes.

• • •

Before the smoke had become visible, Casey gave Nina the keys to her truck and hugged her and thanked her for being exactly the kind of person Casey had needed at that very moment.

“I’m glad I met you,” she said, “if only for a few hours.”

Nina smiled. “It’s certainly been an intense time, hasn’t it? This is a real baptism by fire.”

Kit hugged Nina and told her she loved her and would see her soon. “You have to do this,” she said. And Nina understood, maybe for the first time, that letting people love you and care for you is part of how you love and care for them.

“Case and I are going out to breakfast,” Kit said. “Please don’t be here when we get back.”

Nina smiled, tears forming in her eyes. Kit started to cry but wiped the tears away. As Kit and Casey headed for the door, Kit’s hand hit the knob and she couldn’t go just yet. She turned and ran back to her older sister.

“I’ll always love you,” she said. “No matter who you are or what sort of life you want.” One day, she knew, she would tell her sister all that she was just learning about who she was. They both had plenty of time for understanding all the ways they’d both changed tonight. “I love you just for being, whoever that is.”

“Oh, kiddo,” Nina said, the tears now falling from her face. “Back at ya.”

Kit pulled her sister into her arms, squeezed her so tight that it felt like they might fuse together, and then pulled away and left her there, to leave on her own.

• • •

Before the smoke had become visible, Nina Riva took one last look around the house—at the shattered glass and the ruined paintings, the chandelier on the floor and the broken lamps. She felt unbridled glee at it not being her problem. She relished the thought of not being the one who had to clean it up, not having to live on a cliff, not having to look at Brandon ever again.

She grabbed a few things and threw them in a bag. She held Casey’s keys in her hand, and walked down the road to the red pickup truck.

It hurt to leave, but Nina knew that most good things come with a pinch or an ache.

All she had ever needed was her family. Her siblings. And maybe, now that they didn’t need her, she could find some peace and quiet. Some sunshine. Some privacy.

After all, her family had grown up. And wasn’t this the day you always looked toward? When the kids were grown and your life was yours to take.

The flames traveled over the gravel and dirt to find the grass and leaves and wood they needed.

They started to inhale the house, climbing up its sides, passing over windows in favor of the roof. They took hold of the paintings, the clothes, the broken glass inside. They seized the white walls and the ivory couches, the ecru carpets. The wine cellar, the barbecue, the lawn, the tennis court.

28150 Cliffside Drive burned in vivid orange and gray, the smell of carbon wafting out over the sea.

By the time the fire had fully claimed the estate and started rolling down the coastline, Greg had gotten Tarine out of jail, Kit and Casey had tracked down Ricky and Vanessa and bailed them out, Seth’s mom had picked him up, Caroline had sprung Bobby, Vaughn’s and Bridger’s agents had freed them and started responding to reporters asking for comment, Ted’s business manager had shown up to help him and Vickie, Tuesday’s publicist had come to get her and Rafael, and Wendy’s brother had taken her home and already hired her a lawyer.

By the time the firefighters arrived, Brandon was out on bond and already in the hotel room of Carrie Soto. They turned on the TV to see his home in flames on the morning news.

As Point Dume was evacuated—neighbors leaving their homes holding their children and photo albums, their dogs packed in the way backs of their luxury station wagons—the blaze roared into the sky. It began reaching its fingers out for treetops and the second stories of other properties, clutching whole homes in its grasp.

The people of Malibu knew how to evacuate. They’d done this before. They would do it again.

By the time the fire was contained—the mansion turned to a charred, wet frame, the neighbors’ homes singed and covered in ash, the sky stained gray, firefighters wiping their brows—the lady of the house was nowhere to be found.

Nina Riva was midflight.

She would read about the fire later in an American paper and clutch her chest, relieved no one had been hurt. She would think of the damage and the distress it must have caused.

But she would understand that it was one fire, in a long line of fires in Malibu since the dawn of time.

It had brought destruction.

It would also bring renewal, rising from the ashes.

The story of fire.

Acknowledgments

I am a different writer today than I was two years ago when I started this book. And that is because of the insight and direction of my compassionate and brilliant editor, Jennifer Hershey. Jennifer, your guidance feels like a gift I have been given and I’m incredibly grateful for it.

To Kara Welsh and Kim Hovey, thank you for making me feel so at home at what is such a stunningly excellent publishing house. To Susan Corcoran, Leigh Marchant, Jennifer Garza, Allyson Lord, Quinne Rodgers, Taylor Noel, Maya Franson, Erin Kane, and the rest of the incredible people at Ballantine, you blow me away with your thoughtful ideas, your attention to detail, and the fact that you care. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for that. To Carisa Hays, it has been a crazy beginning, hasn’t it? I’m incredibly fortunate to have you in charge of where I go. To Paolo Pepe, you are killing it with these covers. I could not be any more in love. Thank you.