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When the Heywards volunteered to take him in after his lengthy hospital stay, JJ started to feel the guilt settle in his chest. He wasn’t just feeling guilty for causing them more stress than usual; he was feeling guilty for interrupting their daily lives, giving them another problem to deal with daily, and he was all-consumed by the deep seeded guilt that came with feeling like a burden on the family as a whole. People on The Cut always seemed to take on more than they needed when it came to helping others, but the Heyward family didn’t need the baggage that came with JJ Maybank.
It started to seep out in conversations when he spoke with Mr. Heyward knowing that he interrupted the man’s work schedule. Anytime JJ needed to see the doctor or speak with DCS or Sheriff Shoupe, Heyward accompanied him to the visits. He knew that meant time away from the store, and that meant a financial burden. Sometimes, JJ made a point to sneak what little cash he could into Heyward’s wallet that he left beside the coffee pot every night to try to help. He also knew he made Mrs. Heyward worry- he could tell by the way she looked at him. Her eyes were sad, and she spent extra time with the boy on days when he was bedridden. Finally, he felt like the world’s biggest burden on Pope; he took over his bedroom, stole his parents, and was now a forced brother.
Pope didn’t mind, he was honestly glad that JJ was with them and not living on the streets, crashing on a park bench, or staying at home with his dad. He was happy to share his bedroom and his parents, but he could tell that no matter what, JJ would always feel like a burden on their family.
When John B returned, JJ seemed to drift toward The Chateau, much to Heyward’s displeasure. He didn’t want JJ reverting back to his old habits that could pose a threat to his healing bones and his concussion. He set the ground rules- JJ had to be home by midnight, he couldn’t smell like weed, and he shouldn’t be drinking- and JJ upheld his end of the deal. Most nights, he was home early and he was always home sober.
JJ’s feelings about being a burden came to light the night after John B returned home. He had gone to bed with the same migraine he’d woken up with, but this felt a little different. His head was spinning and he felt nauseous, but he pushed through and went to sleep anyway. Hours later he woke with a scream- he was sweating, and he couldn’t breathe- but he was screaming until Mrs. Heyward could calm him down and coax him out of his fog.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he felt the tears prick his eyes. “I’m sorry I’m such a burden.”
“Oh baby,” she hushed, her hand running through his hair. “You’re not. You’re safe here. We love you.”
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed.
She held him until he fell asleep, her mind trying to figure out how she could let the teen know that he wasn’t a burden and that they were so happy they could take him in and keep him safe. They loved JJ like their second son, and she refused to let him think he wasn’t welcomed there.
JJ started showing up at the seafood shop every morning just after Heyward flipped the open sign and started pulling orders for the people on Figure Eight. Without a word, he’d take two or three orders from the pile, pull them, and bag them, working silently alongside the older man. A silent JJ was never a JJ that existed without concern, so his quiet work made Heyward question what was going on, and made him wonder what he could do to help.
“JJ,” Heyward placed a hand on his shoulder. “You know you don’t haveta do this for me, right? You workin’ might make ya sick.”
“You’re helping me, I’m helping you,” JJ shrugged his hand off and carried bags over by the door. “‘Least I can do since you’re puttin’ up with me.”
Heyward wasn’t sure what to say so he patted the blonde on the back, a silent understanding that JJ was going to work hard to “earn his keep” even though it wasn’t expected of him. Two weeks later, JJ was still going strong on days he wasn’t suffering from headaches, dizzy spells, or nausea, and Mr. Heyward appreciated the help he received from him and Pope.
“Got a couple orders, Mr. H,” JJ said from the aisle he was working in. “Nothing big. I’ll fill ‘em once I get everything on the shelves.”
“I got ‘em, kid,” Heyward chuckled. “You keep fillin’ the shelves. Busy week ahead and people’ll be in here stockin’ up for the weekend.”
Nodding in understanding, JJ kept his head down and his hands busy as he placed boxes and cans on the dusty shelves. Everything had a place, and JJ knew most of the store by heart by now, he mindlessly continued to pull boxes for re-stocking without a second thought.
“Can you bring over two bags of those chips before you put them up?” Heyward asked. “Last two things I need, then I’m gonna run ‘em over to the Eight and come back.”
“You got it,” JJ stood and when he looked out the window, his heart dropped.
Outside the storefront in a dirty shirt smoking a cigarette was Luke Maybank, and JJ wasn’t sure why he was there. Luke didn’t work currently, and he rarely spent his time this close to the docks after getting into fights with most of the boat captains over his poor work ethic and his glaring inebriation on days he did show up for his job. It embarrassed and frustrated JJ that his last name was tainted by his deadbeat father, but now he was making a point to be better and do better.
“JJ?” Heyward asked. “You alright, kid?”
“I’m fine,” JJ said as he carried over the chips. “Better not keep ‘em waiting with these. Might ruin their day.”
Heyward laughed as he bagged the chips and picked up the bags, “I’ll see ya later, kid. Keep the shop in line. Pope’ll be here after he gets done helpin’ his mama.”
“I got it, boss,” JJ laughed, the anxiety settling in his stomach as he thought about the man lurking outside the store.
JJ walked through the store checking on shelves, pulling together gaps in displays, and making sure everything was being kept at the appropriate temperature for seafood storage. He double checked the register, turned signs to face outward, and busied himself with organizing receipts in the drawer while constantly checking on the man standing outside the store. He knew he needed to stock the shelves at the front of the store, but he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to complete the task without being noticed.
He was sure his father was here on purpose, and the thought scared him.
With a deep, shaky breath, JJ picked up the last few boxes he needed and walked toward the front of the store to fill the sparse display of products. His hands were trembling as he picked up package after package, only attempting to steady them when they hindered his progress. As he finished the first set of shelves, he stretched, turned his head, and locked eyes with his father.
JJ panicked. He dropped the bags in his hand back into the box and he took two steps away from the window with his fists clenched anxiously at his sides. Luke, still smirking, nodded at his son and motioned toward the door. Frozen in his spot, JJ could do nothing to prevent his father from entering the store almost as if the man were watching for Mr. Heyward to leave so he could enter.
When the bell over the creaky wooden doors jingled, JJ backed as far away as possible, his back hitting the drink cooler behind him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he prayed that Luke wouldn’t see him, that this was all a figment of his imagination. As Luke rounded the corner and saw JJ, his breathing hitched in his throat as he smelled the weed and whiskey.
“Long time no see kid,” his “father” laughed as he looked his son up and down. “Been slummin’ it ‘round here long? Been lookin’ for ya.”
“Few weeks,” JJ swallowed thickly. “Surprised you noticed I’s gone.”
“Been missin’ ya ‘round the house. Bit of a mess these days, don’t have a lotta time to clean it up. Missin’ your help,” the older man grumbled. “Never very good at it but at least it was done.”
JJ could feel his heart rate increasing and his hands were sweating profusely. He tried to sink further into the drink cooler, begging the cold surface to swallow him whole, but he was unable to escape the man who continued to close the distance between them.
“It’s a mess because you made it a mess,” JJ whispered bravely. “Clean it yourself.”
Taking two hard steps toward the cowering teenager, Luke laughed viciously as he took in JJ’s prone position and his tense shoulders. He glared at his son, his eyes wild with anger and his fists clenched at his sides and he growed.
“That’s no way to talk to a payin’ customer, boy. What would Heyward say?” He chuckled. “Don’t think he’d appreciate the hired help mouthin’ off.”
“Don't’ think you’re exactly a payin’ customer,” JJ said confidently. “Just someone who beat the hell outta their kid.”
As the words escaped his lips, JJ immediately regretted the bite behind them. He knew the repercussions for backtalk, and he prayed to whoever would listen that his dad, with an ounce of respect for public places, would keep his hands off of him.
“Boy,” Luke took two steps toward the teen which caused him to stumble backwards. “You watch your mouth.”
JJ’s heart was pounding in his chest and there was a ringing in his ears that usually accompanied panic attacks. He believed that his father wouldn’t lay a hand on him in the store, but when Luke was angry, he was angry. He tried to find an exit, any exit, to get away from his angry father, but most paths to the door were blocked.
“I’m stayin’ with the Heywards because you put me in the hospital,” he spoke. “You fucked my head up, and I’m still sick sometimes.”
“Word on the street’s that the Kooks put ya in the hospital, not me,” Luke grinned. “Why would a father hurt his own son? His blood? That’s all a father’s got sometimes. Just needed put in your place.”
“I’m seventeen! You put me in the hospital!” JJ cried.
“And you learned your lesson,” Luke spoke harshly. “Doubt you’ll be stealin’ a boat again.”
“It was to help my friend,” JJ choked, the anxiety suffocating him.
“Maybe it was, but she’s my boat, boy,” he snapped. “Come home soon.”
Luke turned on his heels satisfied with the conversation and sauntered back toward the door. Before leaving, he turned and looked over his shoulder at JJ who was cowered against the cooler with tears trickling down his cheeks and his breathing ragged. After hearing the bell once again that now signaled his safety, JJ let himself sink to the floor in fear for his safety.
Luke was always going to be around, and he was always going to be a threat to JJ and his friends. As much as he knew the Heywards provided safety and had his best interests at heart, he knew these threats wouldn’t cease until he went home.
He didn’t want to go home.
Home was never safe.
Home was with John B.
Home was with the Heywards.
Home wasn’t with drug-doing, child-abusing Luke Maybank.
Trying to collect himself from his position on the floor, JJ lets the tears escape as he breathes. He’s thankful that he’s the only person in the store and as he sits he lets the weight of the world crash against his shoulders. He struggled to pull in that first, critical breath following a small panic attack, and as he moved to stand his knees buckled and he let out a small cry.
“Get it together,” he mumbled to himself. “Just get up and finish your work.”
He pulled himself up from the floor and dusted the palms of his hands on his shorts before returning to his boxes. His heart still racing and his mind still spinning, he attempted to finish stocking the shelves and coolers as Heyward needed but he was unsuccessful.
His hands were too shaky.
His palms were too sweaty.
And his brain was too anxious, too scared, to finish the job.
It felt like hours before Mr. Heyward returned with his boat from Figure Eight, and as the door opened JJ jumped. He attempted to play it off as a startle, but Heyward saw fear in the boy’s eyes as he looked him up and down, inspecting him for injury.
“JJ? You doin’ alright son?” Mr. Heyward asked quietly as he approached the nervous boy.
JJ’s skin looked pale and his eyes were wild with fear. A master of disguising his true emotions, Mr. Heyward was learning how to read JJ’s eyes, and when he saw fear, anxiety, and pain, he knew something was wrong. Something had happened while he was making his deliveries, and he was cursing himself for not taking JJ along for the short ride. The boy was bending over backwards to help him in the shop for something as simple as a bed to sleep in and a roof over his head, but there was no arguing with the strong-willed teen.
“I-I’m fine,” JJ stuttered as he shoved his trembling hands in his pockets. “What’s up?”
“You’re just lookin’ a little sick. Headache back? Dizzy?” He pressed. “I don’t want you workin’ if you’re sick. Your Ma would have my hide and that wouldn’t be a good report back to the doc in a few days.”
“I’m alright. Thanks for checkin’ though,” he laughed nervously.
“I can tell you’re not tellin’ the truth, kid. I’ve known ya long enough and you’ve been around long enough to know,” Heyward sighed. “Why don’t ya head home and rest. We don’t need ya bed ridden for the next few days because ya didn’t care for a migraine.”
The compassion in Heyward’s gentle voice was enough to fill JJ’s bright blue eyes with tears. The warmth the man extruded toward him, a small gesture in the grand scheme of things, was welcomed and JJ finally looked up long enough to make eye contact. Mr. Heyward noticed the tears in his eyes, but he didn’t comment knowing how embarrassed JJ would be if he made a scene about his emotional state. JJ expected the anger to come, but it never did.
“C-can I-I go t-to John B’s for a bit?” He asked nervously.
“Will you get some rest?” Heyward asked seriously. “You can only go if you promise me you boys won’t be screwin’ around.”
“Promise,” JJ whispered.
Before JJ could turn to leave, Heyward placed a firm hand on his shoulder causing the boy to flinch. As he turned around with apologetic eyes, he was pulled into a hug. Making sure the shop was empty before wrapping his arms around the teenager, Heyward felt the boy melt into the embrace and could sense the anxiety leaving his body.
“Make sure you aren’t gone too long,” Heyward added. “You know your curfew. If you’re gonna be late, make sure to call and there won’t be any trouble.”
“You got it,” JJ laughed hoarsely. “I’ll be home early. I-I just need to see JB.”
The older man sent JJ on his way as he cocked his head to the side. He saw the boy check his surroundings several times before stepping onto the sidewalk with anxious steps and movements. JJ was walking quickly, making Heyward wonder what had happened that triggered his flight response that afternoon. He made a mental note to ask JJ about it later when he returned home.
---
With painful pressure building in his chest, JJ counted his steps toward the Chateau in hopes of distracting himself from the impending panic attack. His breathing, which he could hear in his ears over the rushing of blood and the pounding of his heart, was ragged. His chest hurt, his throat was raw, and his hands were sweating.
He was cold, but he knew the humidity and the heat were causing his clothes to stick to his back as he walked.
He was sweating, but he could only feel the tears trickling down his cheeks, not the sweat on his forehead.
As he willed away the panic that wrapped around his throat just as his father’s hands had weeks before, he struggled to focus on his breathing and lost count of his steps as he staggered. He just needed to make it to the Chateau.
That’s where John B would be.
That’s where his brother was.
That’s where he could finally break.
He clawed at the collar of his shirt as he continued to take sluggish steps toward the driveway that was coming into view, and he pulled at the sweaty material hoping to make breathing easier and to stop the freely flowing tears. He just needed to make it to the Chateau.
To John B.
To a hug, if it was offered.
Tears continued to spill from his eyes as he grew closer and closer to his safe haven, and as he finally reached the steps of the porch, he let himself break. His breathing, harsh and loud, distracted him from the ache in his chest as he pulled himself up the four broken boards to the top.
Left then right.
Left, then right.
He reached the top and leaned heavily against the door as he felt for the keys in his pocket, the old keychain smooth under his calloused fingers.
“John B?” His voice cracked as he spoke. “You here?”
JJ hoped his friend was outside, not trusting his hands to work properly to open the door. He felt his fingers trembling as his hands shook and his palms continued to sweat. He felt his heart pounding against his ribcage, his blood rushing in his ears, and his body started to shake.
“JB? You home?” He called out weakly.
He sobbed as he grasped the keychain in his fist, his hands betraying him as he attempted to pull them out by the key. He struggled to maneuver them in his hands toward the lock, a new addition to the door once the couple returned from the Bahamas to ensure their safety, and he let out a choked sob as the keys dropped to the ground.
“John B, c’mon dude, you’re always home!” JJ called out in a final attempt to summon his friend. “Please.”
He bent over in an attempt to pick up his keys and felt himself growing light headed and dizzy at the movements. He was angry, his stomach churning as he thought of how weak he looked in the moment, and as he stood he kicked the base of the door with a thud.
“Stupid fucking key,” he choked out. “Stupid fucking hands that can’t use the fucking key.”
He leaned his head against the door as he struggled with the key once again, finally giving up as he heard footsteps coming toward the door. With fresh tears pooling in his eyes, he heard the click of the lock and the turn of the knob. As the old, wooden door opened he prepared to lean heavily into John B’s arms but he was met by the wild, bright eyes of Sarah Cameron.
“JJ?” She asked with total confusion. “What are you doing here?”
JJ didn’t know how to respond. His mouth was dry, his hands were still shaking, and his ears were ringing.
“Where’s JB?” He asked in a panic. “I need to see John B.”
“Come inside,” she said gently, her hand touching his arm causing him to flinch.
JJ backed away from her, not willing to cross the threshold until he knew where John B was. His mind was racing as he thought of all the scenarios that could go along with her lack of an answer, and Sarah pushed the door open wider to allow him the space to enter.
“He’s out,” she said gently. “Had a meeting with the attorney. JJ, please come inside.”
He shook his head and Sarah took this as a cue to step completely away from the door. She didn’t want to startle him or make him uncomfortable and she was worried he would bolt. His eyes darted around the recently-cleaned living room, and he struggled with his emotions as he saw the changes in the layout and the way it was decorated.
It looked like a girl was living there, because she was.
As he timidly enters the Chateau, JJ’s entire body is trembling, his face is pale, and Sarah is worried he’s going to pass out. She doesn’t know what to do as he stands stone-faced in the entryway, so she does the only thing she knows how to do.
Sarah speaks.
“JJ,” she says carefully. “I’m going to put my hand on your arm, okay? We’re going to go sit on the couch.”
He nods, but even with a warning as gentle as her’s he still flinches under the warmness of her soft, dainty hand. He lets her lead him over to the worn couch where he sits down as close to the arm as he can and he curls his knees into his chest. As if to protect himself, he wraps his arms around his legs and rests his forehead against his knees.
“When’s he comin’ home?” JJ asks in a soft, raw voice. “I need to see John B.”
“He just left, JJ. He’s not going to be home for a little bit but he will be home. I promise, he’s coming home,” She reassured, unsure what had the boy worked up but knowing he needed to know his friend would return.
“Please don’t make me leave,” he sniffled. “I just needed to see JB so I came here.”
“You don’t have to leave. I was just watching Grey’s Anatomy in our room,” she chuckled. “Whole new season I need to catch up on. Have you been watching anything good?”
“I know what you’re doing,” JJ sniffled. “And right now it’s helping so I’ll humor you for a bit. I’ve been watchin’ Breaking Bad. Dunno why. Just like it.”
“I’ve never seen it,” she laughed nervously.
“John B loves it so I’m sure you’ll see it soon. You promise he’s comin’ back?”
“I promise,” she whispered. “JJ, I know-I know we’re not close and you barely know me, but I know how important you are to John B. You were his biggest concern when we were… gone… and since we’re both here… you can talk to me.”
She played with the ring on her index finger as she spoke, her anxiety radiating off of her in waves. JJ wasn’t sure what he expected from her, but it wasn’t that. He hadn’t expected her to volunteer to sit with him in his emotions as they waited for John B.
“You sure, princess?” He asked with a light laugh, tears still trickling down his cheeks as he looked up. “It’s pretty heavy.”
“My dad tried to kill my boyfriend,” she said dejectedly. “I think I can handle it.”
“I fuckin’ hated you for weeks,” he choked out as he turned to face her. “John B ran off with you and left me behind for someone he barely knew.”
“That’s fair,” Sarah whispered sadly as JJ took a deep breath.
“I was mad because I lost my brother. He left me here with my shitty dad because of you and your shitty dad and your even shittier brother, and it felt like shit,” he said timidly. “I didn’t even know you and I fuckin’ hated you. And here you are tellin’ me you’re here for me while I’m cryin’.”
“You’re his brother, JJ, I’m not going to use this against you,” She held out her hand, brushed it against his and squeezed it lightly when given permission.
“I’m sorry I hated you,” he said weakly. “We don’t even know each other. I just missed him so much, and it kinda felt like I died too, ya know?”
“I know,” she said quietly. “You’re right though, we don’t know each other. But maybe we can use this time to get to know each other? JJ, you… are you okay?”
As the words left her mouth, the dam broke and JJ began to sob. He reached out for Sarah who, without hesitation, pulled him into a hug and let him cry into her shoulder and she shushed him and whispered gentle words into his ear.
You’re okay.
We’re safe.
John B is coming back.
You’re safe.
It’s going to be okay.
“My-my dad,” he choked. “He beat the hell outta me for the boat. Put me in the hospital, broke some shit, ‘bout bashed my head in. I saw him again today. He talked a lotta shit, and then he left. I was worried he was gonna be a repeat offender”
As he talked about the night of their “death,” Sarah’s heart broke for the boy who was uncharacteristically vulnerable in her arms. He cried as he spoke about DCS, and how he found himself lying once again to keep him safe with the Heywards in Kildare. She cried with him as he spoke of his father and the damage he had inflicted.
“The worst thing is I still love ‘im ‘cause he’s my dad,” JJ said quietly as he pulled away. “And the last time he did that I collapsed at Heywards, just where I was today. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as she looked at him. “I’m here for you right now, and always, because I get it. I-I didn’t know this was happening, and I’m so sorry.”
“I didn’t tell many people,” he shrugged. “Just John B ‘cause he let me stay here a lot since the third grade. He never told ya my old man knocks the hell outta me?”
“No, he never mentioned that. Just said you deal with some stuff that keeps you on your toes and keeps you around here more than you’re home,” she said truthfully.
“I, uh,” JJ started. “I kinda told John B about it… but you should know if you’re gonna be here. The, uh, the concussion dad gave me was bad. I’m still dealin’ with it all, and the doctor doesn’t think it’ll go away anytime soon or at all even. Dizziness, anxiety, mood swings, migraines, it’s all real bad and if it happens, you’ll know.”
“Is that why you stay home when we go out on the boat sometimes? I didn’t picture you as someone who is willing to miss that?” She asked curiously.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Some days I can’t get outta bed and my head feels like it’s bein’ split open with a hammer. Hate fightin’ now too. Loud voices and noises… ya know.”
“I get it,” she squeezed his hand again. “That’s how I feel about all of it now too.”
“What’s John B gonna say when he finds out you’ve been holdin’ my hand, princess?” He asked with a sniffle and a smirk.
“Jackass,” she laughed. “He’ll be okay with it since it’s with ‘sisterly love’.”
She could tell JJ was still struggling to calm himself down after crying; the paleness of his skin and his heavy breathing were tell-tale signs of his continuing anxiety attack and she began to brush her thumb over the back of his hand.
“Why don’t we try taking some deep breaths?” She asked. “In for four, hold for four, out for four? I’ll do it with you.”
JJ nodded as a fresh wave of tears started to escape his eyes. He took in a shaky breath, held it until it was uncomfortable, and dramatically exhaled following Sarah’s lead. They did this until JJ felt like he could breathe and Sarah noticed the color start to come back to his cheeks.
“Can-can you get me some water?” He asked quietly.
“I can,” she said gently. “I’ll be right back.”
He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the couch as he listened to Sarah in the kitchen. The noises were heightened, but he knew the water would help calm his nerves as they sat together. She returned in a few minutes with a cool glass of water, complete with ice cubes that clinked against the glassware.
After taking a few sips, JJ felt his airways open and the adrenaline started to wear off leaving him tired and shaky.
“Do you mind if I lie down?” He asked, his voice even quieter than before.
“I don’t mind,” she moved to the chair in the corner of the room as JJ slipped off his work boots and flopped against the couch with a sigh.
As he was lying quietly on the couch, Sarah observed his demeanor and his behaviors. His hands were still trembling and he clenched them into fists on his chest hoping to stop. His breathing was deep; grounding breaths to keep him focused seemed to be his go-to as he tried to relax. His eyes were clenched shut as he tried to regulate his emotions after an exhausting release.
JJ’s tells were the same as John B’s.
Almost the same as hers.
“You know,” she started, unsure if JJ was listening. “My entire life I was daddy’s little princess. Someone he loved to protect. Rafe always had his issues, and Wheezie was always independent and so damn smart. But I was Princess Sarah locked away in her tower. It wasn’t until I was on a boat driving into a storm that I realized he didn’t care about shit.”
She laughed lightly as JJ nodded, his motion for her to continue.
“He locked me in that damned tower to keep me close, to keep me from getting too nosy. But when I met you guys, met John B, the adrenaline and excitement made me want to escape that tower,” she sniffled. “Get the hell away from the castle, get the hell outta Figure Eight. Rafe was so pissed he shot someone. Ward killed Big John, and I was just trying to escape.”
“Not your fault your family is fuckin’ nuts,” JJ joked.
“And it’s not your fault your dad is an abusive asshole,” Sarah added. “I feel so guilty. Guilty that I took John B from you guys, especially from you, and there’s someone dead because of me. We lost everything because of Ward, and because of me.”
“Not because of you,” JJ mumbled in exhaustion. “Ward and Rafe but not you. You were tryin’ your best to help. We just fell off a cliff.”
“It’s partially my fault your dad put you in the hospital, JJ,” she choked. “We shouldn’t have asked you for the boat.”
“Just like I told JB,” JJ said slowly. “I’d do it all again. You’re my friends. You’re a Pogue now. There’s no goin’ back because it’s Pogues for life. I don’t hold nothin’ against you. And we have some of the gold, right?”
“Right,” her voice shook as she spoke. “That’s actually what John B is speaking to the attorney about. Emancipation and the legality of splitting the gold. Apparently there’s taxes and stuff. All that bullshit.”
“Taxes are bullshit,” JJ agreed. “But we’re gettin’ money that’ll go a pretty long ways.”
“Yeah, it’s nothing to shake your head at. Especially since John B and I will be on our own,” she added sadly.
“Not on your own,” he grunted. “Got me, got Heywards too.”
“I know,” she smiled. “I know we do. It’s just-just the first time I’ve felt freedom in so long. And now I don’t know what to do with it.”
“You can start by helpin’ me kick this awful headache,” JJ joked while draping his arm across his eyes. “Happens sometimes with cryin’ or bein’ emotional. Part of the post-concussion shit.”
She laughed from her seat in the chair and she stood. JJ could hear her walking across the old wooden floor and opening a few cabinets before speaking in a hushed tone, “we have two Tylenol.”
“That’ll do,” he whispered.
“I’ll bring you a cold washcloth too,” she said, worry lacing her voice. “Will that be okay?”
“Sounds good to me.”
JJ closed his eyes and started to drift off to sleep before Sarah could return with the medication. He woke, barely, to take the pills and he allowed the blonde to drape the washcloth over his forehead. The cool fabric woke him up, but he allowed them to sit in silence, the only sounds coming from Sarah’s foot bouncing against the floor and his breathing.
As the minutes passed, JJ felt the Tylenol begin to work, and he slowly opened his eyes to see Sarah watching him intensely.
“You know,” he cleared his throat. “We could be co-presidents of the Shitty Dad Club.”
“You can be the founder, I’ll be the president,” she joked. “Your idea and all.”
“Ain’t that the same thing?” JJ looked at her with a grin.
“You’ve got a lot to learn about business,” She laughed.
“You’ve got a lot to learn about bein’ a Pogue,” JJ added. “I’m sorry about callin’ you princess. I wouldn’t have if I had known.”
“You would have,” she laughed. “You so would have anyway.”
“You’re right,” he grinned cockily. “But I won’t anymore. I’ll stick with callin’ ya Sarah.”
The two sat in a comfortable silence as they waited for John B to return home. Sarah, with a new outlook on her situation and a new understanding of the cocky, spontaneous blonde, decided that she would do whatever it took to make sure that JJ still felt safe and at home at the Chateau even though it was her home now too. She promised herself that she would still make sure the boys had John B and JJ time, and that she would get to know each of the Pogues in a new, intimate way, starting with her boyfriend’s brother.
JJ, with the headache still taunting him, smiled to himself as he realized Sarah Cameron wasn’t that bad. She listened, and she understood, and she comforted. She was now the keeper of many of his secrets, and he was okay with letting her in.
Because she loved John B.
Because she was safe.
They both heard the door creak open and footsteps enter the home. Sarah looked up, smiling at John B as he gestured between the two of them.
“What’s going on here?” he asked with confusion. “You two hang out now?”
“Nah,” JJ grinned. “She sucks.”
“JJ,” John B groaned. “Are you being serious right now?”
“It’s a joke, John B,” Sarah smiled. “We spent some time together today. He wanted to see you, but I charmed him into a conversation. Mutual understanding of a shitty situation.”
“She held my hand,” JJ grinned triumphantly. “I can see why you keep her around. Might need to watch out.”
A pillow flew across the room at JJ as the three teenagers burst into laughter at the joke. John B, satisfied with the answer from Sarah, sat down at the end of the couch and lifted JJ’s feet into his lap. He could guess why the boy had shown up, and from the looks of his friend today was a pretty bad day.
“Your room is always open here, JJ,” John B said casually. “I know you’re stayin’ with the Heywards, but we didn’t change anything. You can be here as much as you want.”
“Thanks man,” JJ yawned. “I’m glad you’re both here. I’m glad you’re safe.”
“I’m glad you’re safe too,” Sarah added.
“Thanks,” JJ smiled lazily. “Can I take a nap?”
“Go to sleep, bro, we’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”
JJ fell asleep while listening to John B and Sarah speak softly about the meeting with the attorney, but he didn’t mind. His mind was at ease save for the small headache, and he was comfortable. He felt safe with John B at his feet and Sarah across the room, a feeling that felt rare on that afternoon. He dozed off with a sense of security knowing that the two wouldn’t let anything happen to him ever again, and that their home was still his.
He may have a shitty dad, but he doesn’t have shitty friends.
He’s safe with them.