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They lost the cross.
Her heart sinks at what this means for all of them, but especially Pope. That after everything they’ve gone through, all the pain and heartbreak, it’s slipped out of their hands once again.
And they almost lost JJ, her brain helpfully reminds her as they hurriedly make their escape, her heart instantly beginning to race.
He’s pressed close to her now, four of them squished in the back of Topper’s truck as he tears through the streets of Wilmington, heading back empty handed to the OBX. The heat of JJ’s thigh against hers and his elbow digging into her side are a reminder that he’s here beside her.
Alive.
It should reassure her, having him so close. Or at least make her stop feeling like she’s going to throw up, worry and relief and heartbreak all a churning tangled knot in her stomach. Her heart feels like it might pound right out of her chest, panic still lingering in her veins. She digs her nails into her palms, hoping that the sensation might help to ground her in the present.
But her brain doesn’t obey, instead replaying those endless moments when she thought he wasn’t.
When Kiara thinks back on it, watching JJ’s bike crash though the guardrail and topple to the ground in front of them with her heart in her throat, she can’t quite remember anything else. Not the sounds of her friends crying out, the screeching brakes, the crash of cars on the overpass unable to stop fast enough – nothing.
It was definitely his bike – there was no doubt in her mind about that. She’d ridden on it enough times, knew its shape and colour by heart. Knew what JJ looked like sitting on it, how perfectly she fit on it behind him, her arms wrapped around his chest.
They all watched in horror as it careened off of the overpass, smoke engulfing it as debris went flying. There was a resounding crash as the bike hit the pavement, an echo she felt reverberate through her body and she froze, stunned. Her stomach dropped to her toes and she pushed herself to her feet in the back of Topper’s truck, dread and disbelief settling over her. She knew it was him.
And she knew he couldn’t be okay after a fall like that.
“Pope, go!” She’d shoved at him, her body desperately screaming for JJ. Needing to find him and scrub the image of his bike falling through the air from her mind by actually seeing him in one piece in front of her.
“JJ?” Her voice wobbled, ripped from her chest as they all clambered out of the truck bed and rushed towards the wreckage. “JJ! JJ! Where is he?”
Stumbling to the ground, her sneakers skittered through the dirt and silt on the pavement. Heart in her throat, she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, her eyes moving wildly around, trying to catch a glimpse of his blond hair, tanned skin, anything. She was sure she was going to catch a glimpse of him half hidden in the long grass, sprawled unmoving on the ground, and that thought sent her hurrying past everyone else, turning in a circle in a wild panic.
This can’t be happening.
She remembers that thought running through her mind as a heavy numbness flowed through her veins, rooting her feet to the ground. The last thing they’d done was fight – arguing beside his bike in the dark, her dad’s money clip lying in the grass between them.
It was just another thing working against them, shoving them further and further away from each other, a reminder that their island paradise just was a faint speck on the horizon. Only this one hurt more than the rest because it was JJ himself stealing from her dad and living up to every horrible thing her parents believed about him. She’d barely gotten on the bike with him afterwards, frustrated and hurt knowing that he couldn’t see himself the way she saw him.
“Where is he?” she murmured, her eyes scanning their surroundings for any sign of his messy blond hair, his cheeky smirk.
Nothing.
He must have been thrown from the bike. Images of his mangled body arose in her mind, a nightmare that she wished she could wake up from. After stumbling blindly around the area and still not finding any sign of him, terror and heartbreak and devastation all coursed through her body as she pictured him hurt somewhere, unable to get to them for help.
His name ripped out of her lungs, desperate and aching. She couldn’t see him anywhere, her mind stuck in the worst possible scenario as a staticky panic froze her in place.
No. He had to be okay. There wasn’t any alternative.
She needed him.
Craved the pure relief of his arms wrapped tightly around her like they had on the dock, the certainty in her heart that he would always come for her. Wanted his bright voice teasing her, her stomach fluttering when he tossed an easy grin her way. Fuck, she’d even take the self deprecating JJ of late, sullen and uncertain, pushing her away at every turn.
Anything but this nightmare.
“No no no,” she moaned brokenly. Her breath came in short quick bursts, panic and fear churning and threatening to take over. Because he couldn’t be hurt. He couldn’t be–
She couldn’t even make herself think the words. It was incomprehensible.
Her hands covered her face as she sank to the ground, choked sobs wracking her body, the sounds of her friends fading into the background as a dull ringing filled her ears. Her fingers threaded through her hair and pulled at the strands, like that minuscule pain could distract her from the devastation churning inside of her, threatening to erupt.
It took a moment for the shuffling footsteps to break through her cloudy mind, the grief that had overtaken her. But the moment she heard his voice, she froze in stunned disbelief. She’d never felt such an all encompassing wave of relief, because she'd been sure that this time, that was it. The last of his nine lives. How could he have survived a crash like that?
“I wish I could say I did that on purpose…”
She rose unsteadily to her feet, tears still tracking down her face. A fine vibration ran through her body as she turned around on legs that weren’t going to hold her up much longer, her heart in her throat, hardly daring to believe it could be true.
But there he was, bruised and disheveled but fucking alive, and the elation that sung through her veins was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.
“But that was the gnarliest powerslide I’ve ever done.”
He sounded nearly proud of himself, the idiot, exhaustion clear in the way he didn’t quite move as quickly as usual, feet dragging in the grit of the road.
She stared at him, her breath coming in harsh pants. Her chest rose and fell so rapidly that she was almost afraid she might pass out, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his slightly shocked smile. The tightness in her chest lingered as she took him in, one hand pressing against her frantic heart. She’d really thought for a few long moments that she’d lost him. Had felt the heartstopping grief that he just might not have been okay.
Hanging back, she watched as everyone moved closer, cheering and whooping. Let Pope and Sarah hug him, both of them so relieved that they threw their arms around JJ. She watched his face as they did, the startled look that appeared over their shoulders, because he was always so uncertain when people expressed genuine physical affection for him.
She tried to let herself accept that he was really standing there, miraculously unharmed even though the smoking remains of his bike told a very different story. There were some new scrapes, holes in his clothes, smudges of dirt on the bare skin of his face and arms, but he was alive and in one piece.
And when Sarah stepped away, it was just them, staring at each other across the pavement.
His eyes were wide, his chest heaving, and he looked pleased with himself until he took in the expression on her face. Then his shoulders curved in slightly as she stumbled closer, unable to look away.
She half expected him to make a joke, drop some kind of line – guess I still got eight lives left or some other shit – and distract her with a well timed smirk.
But he didn’t. He just stood there, his expression more open and vulnerable than she’d seen it in days. The absolute fear she felt watching his bike fall to the ground reared back up again, reminding her how fucking reckless he was with his own life. How he figured he wasn’t worth anything – but if he could help his friends, save them – well that was worth it even if he died in the process.
The morbid thought made a shiver race through her, and she found herself stalking forwards until they were toe to toe. He didn’t look away, his throat working as he swallowed nervously. He shifted his weight back and forth like he always did when he wasn’t sure how a situation was going to shake out.
As the moment stretched on, she felt something else bubble up inside of her the longer they silently stood there. She fought to breathe properly, to calm her racing heart, to push back the tears threatening to fall. Her relief quieted into something deeper, more solid and heavy, as he shifted his weight back and forth, having the good sense to look a bit embarrassed the longer she glared at him.
They’d already gone through this once, in the lifeboat, his face pale and unresponsive as she screamed at him to wake up, panic clogging her throat. She couldn’t keep doing it.
“Don’t… don’t you ever do that again,” she said lowly, in a voice she barely recognized, amazed that it only wobbled slightly.
She wanted to say more, to make sure he knew how afraid she was, the stabbing pain in her chest that wouldn’t go away even though he was right there in front of her. How much she needed him, relied on him, always looked to him, but she couldn’t seem to find the words.
But the way he looked at her, the seriousness of his expression, made her think that maybe he understood. He’d looked like he was going to say something else, pulling off his hat and twisting it in his hands as it seemed to sink in just how much she cared if he lived or died, even if he didn’t.
They’d been interrupted before he had the chance, as it seemed they always were, and raced back to the truck, escaping from the police once again. It was a long drive back from Wilmington, so they’d settled in for the duration, and while normally Kiara would have relished having JJ pressed so closely against her, right now she feels like she’s crawling out of her skin.
At first the rest of them had argued – JJ and Sarah, Cleo piping up, Pope and Topper going back and forth. No one else seemed to notice her silence, the way she sank into the wall of the truck, like if she curled far enough into herself she might just disappear.
But of course JJ does. He notices everything about her, she thinks. Even when she wishes he wouldn’t. For someone who pretends to be comedic relief, he’s incredibly observant about things he deems important.
And somehow, she’s always made that list.
The mood in the truck calms as they get further from Wilmington – Pope and Cleo talk quietly, Sarah teases Topper about something. JJ’s pulled into conversation by Pope, but she can feel his attention still on her.
He keeps flicking little glances at her out of the corner of his eye, clearly trying to keep track of her mood. She’s always reacted this way in high stress, emotional situations, and he knows it. She needs space, a bubble where she feels safe and isolated, and there’s too many people in here for that to happen. The air is thick and warm, and she tries to shift away, curling her arms across her chest, but there’s nowhere else for her to go.
Sitting this close to JJ, the smell of dirt and smoke and burning rubber still lingering in the air is a reminder of how close she came to losing him. He’d made her get off the bike because he knew he was going to do something dangerous, and she doesn’t know how to deal with the fact that he thinks of his life as worthless. Collateral damage in their pursuit of treasure. The thought makes her want to cry.
As though losing him wouldn’t completely wreck her.
It makes her think of those moments in the lifeboat, her heart pounding in her throat, her voice high and shaky because he was so pale, so lifeless, and she’d done her best to hold them afloat and keep his head above water, but maybe it hadn’t been good enough. They’d been slipping under before John B and the others came and hauled them both to safety. How looking at him, her hand on his chest as she begged him to wake up in a voice she didn’t even recognize, had startled something to life inside of her.
He’d leapt in front of a machete for her on the freighter. Hadn’t thought twice about it. It happened so fast that she can’t even clearly remember it. Just him shouting her name in warning and then the sharp thwack of the machete making contact with his head. She’d whirled around in time to watch him disappear off the edge of the boat and she doesn’t think she’s ever felt a fear quite like that before.
Or since.
Not until tonight anyways.
Because when he’d said he had a plan, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist as they kept pace with Topper’s truck, she’d felt an echo of that same fear trickle through her. She trusted JJ with her life, no question. But she didn’t trust him with his own.
But she’d climbed off anyway because she didn’t have a choice, and she’d watched his bike fall from the overpass, just like she’d watched him fall off the freighter and land in the water with a sickening splash. The two memories overlayed in a nauseating replay of the worst moments of her life.
JJ has always been an act first, think later type of person, but it’s becoming startlingly clear that he truly doesn’t see that his life is worth just as much as the rest of theirs. And she doesn't quite know how to deal with that.
She can feel his gaze on her, knows he keeps shooting glances at her, like he can tell that her mind is racing, her emotions unsettled. When she peeks over at him, his eyes are wide and concerned, but innocent, as though he has no idea what’s going through her mind. As though she hasn’t just been forced to relive those terrifying moments when she thought she’d lost him, the heart stopping fear and terror and devastation at the idea of a life without him.
Her thoughts must play across her face, because he swallows thickly, uncertainty clouding his expression before he looks away. As though she’d just get over thinking he’d died in a fiery motorcycle crash during their long drive home.
“I can’t believe we lost the cross again,” Pope growls from beside JJ, a fire in his voice that she never thought she’d hear from the calmest member of the Pogues. “That’s it then. It’s gone for good.”
“You don’t know that,” Cleo says, her voice soothing, like cool water rushing over heated skin. “It’s not over til the fat lady sings or whatever that stupid saying is.”
Topper pipes up from the driver’s seat, making some inane comment about how he’s the grandson of a judge, and Kiara wishes she could hit him, just once. He was useful, tonight anyways, but god was he fucking annoying.
“All right, that’s it. End of the line,” Topper announces, as though to prove that fact even further. He pulls the truck to an abrupt stop and insists they all get out. “I can’t be a part of this anymore.”
They all clamber out, and Sarah says something quietly to Topper before he drives away, leaving them all standing in the middle of downtown, nowhere near any of their homes.
“Well, looks like we’re walking,” Cleo says, rolling her eyes. “Real nice of him to just leave us here.”
No one says anything after that, and they set off down the street, the town quiet as they walk. Kiara hangs back, matching her pace with JJ’s. Now that they’re out of the cramped truck, and she’s gulped deep lungfuls of cool evening air, it’s like a switch has flipped inside of her.
She lets out a breath, her eyes fully running over him for the first time tonight as they walk side by side. He really does look okay for the most part, and the fear of losing him fades into the background the longer he walks casually beside her, as though he didn’t just risk his life like it was nothing. And now that she knows he’s fine, the door has opened for her to be furious instead of terrified, because she’s pretty sure he doesn’t understand what his risky stunt has done to her. There’s dirt smeared all over him, a tear in his shirt, a nasty scrape on his calf and a slightly haunted look in his eyes, but it could have been worse.
So much worse.
“Why did you do that?”
The words burst out of her, breaking the silence and echoing through the quiet night. While she didn’t mean to say them, she needs to know the answer. Needs to understand why he insists on trying to destroy his own life. Why can't he see that there are people who care about him?
He shrugs casually, keeping his gaze trained ahead of them. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, Kie. I’ve done a lot of stupid shit today.”
She pauses, her fingers latching onto the sleeve of his shirt to bring him to a stop. He faces her, chewing at his lip, his face carefully blank. His lack of a reaction makes her want to scream, to do anything to let out the anger pent up inside of her.
“Crashing your bike off the overpass!” she shouts, and just saying the words makes the memory come alive in her mind again. The heart stopping terror makes her breath catch, her pulse race. She swallows thickly, barely able to get her next words out, so quiet that she can barely hear them herself. “You just… you could have died, JJ.”
He deflates, shoulders curving forwards. His casual mask cracks as her words hit home, her broken voice shattering his barriers.
“Kie…” he whispers sadly, his hand reaching out towards her before dropping to his side.
“You can’t do shit like that, JJ!”
His gaze darts back to the ground before returning to hers, and he digs the toe of his boot against the ground. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
And Jesus. The way he says it, as though she wouldn’t completely fall to pieces without him in her life, sends her stumbling backwards.
“Do you really think that?” she asks seriously, and some part of her breaks at the casual way he dismisses himself.
“Why not, Kie? I’m just some loser from the Cut. A liar and a thief, right? Your life would be better without me. Easier anyways, that's for damn sure.”
The despondent way he repeats her dad’s words from earlier, like it’s not the first time he’s thought or heard them, sends her into motion. Her hands land on his shoulders, her fingers sliding to his jaw before she even thinks twice about it. He stiffens slightly, the part of him that clearly wants to pull away warring with the part that wants nothing more than to give in.
It’s more intimate than it should be after what happened in his backyard yesterday. She can’t help but think of the other times they’ve been this close recently, breathless with want, eyes dipping to each other’s lips, their hearts pounding in unison as neither one denied what was building between them.
He’s frozen under her touch, his eyes wide, his breath coming in short pants. She wants nothing more than to lean in and rest her forehead against his, to let her eyes slip closed and their connection blanket them both. But she holds back, reminds herself that he’s not ready to give in to that all encompassing feeling.
But she’s also not going to let him talk shit about himself when he’s the most important person in her life. The person she can always count on to be there for her, who knows her better than anyone. The person she can’t imagine losing.
“JJ,” she murmurs, and he must see the echo of her thoughts in her eyes because he blinks and looks away, his throat bobbing, brows furrowed. He holds still though, and lets her move in closer until their chests are nearly brushing.
They’ve always been tied together, something within her calling out to him. And this feels the same, and yet altogether different.
Because this is her hands firm against his face, her thumb swiping across his jaw. His eyes shine in the moonlight as she lets out a shaky breath that he echoes, because he’s with her no matter what. This is the feeling that she wants to cling to – JJ close enough to touch, to feel his warmth, safe and unharmed.
Unable to hold back, her heart still pounding a steady rhythm of relief, her arms slide around his shoulders, bringing him close. As though if she holds him tightly enough she can make him see himself the way she does. If she holds him carefully enough, if she says the right words, then maybe he'll start to realize that he’s more than he’s always been told. More than anyone’s ever given him credit for.
“I was really scared tonight,” she says into the hollow of his shoulder, and her eyes sting with tears that she furiously blinks away. He wraps his arms around her after a moment, hesitant at first before tightening, and she holds him just a bit closer. She may still be pissed at him, but she can’t quite seem to banish the possibility of losing him from her brain.
It’s not easy to say the words, to put them out into the universe. Like if she voices it aloud, some malevolent god might grab hold of her terrified thoughts and make them reality. But she pushes herself to say them, because he needs to know. He needs to hear how much what he did affected her.
Shifting and reluctantly pulling away, she lets her hands rest on his shoulders, thumbs brushing against the bare skin of his neck. He shudders slightly, his hands lingering on her hips, his touch so gentle, like he thinks he maybe shouldn’t be holding her at all.
“I thought you died, JJ.” The words linger between them, a living breathing nightmare that she can’t seem to escape. “When we saw your bike crash off the overpass, I… I’ve never been that scared before.”
“Kie…” His fingers tighten against her waist, his gaze trained on her. “I–” He pauses, eyes dipping to the ground before they refocus on her, resolute. “I’m sorry you were scared.”
She blinks and looks away, a small sigh escaping her. She knows he’s sorry, that he means what he’s saying, but he just doesn’t get it.
“It’s not that you scared me. It’s that you just… you keep doing it! Like you threw yourself in front of a machete for me!”
His eyes widen and it’s not what she meant to say, but it’s true all the same.
“And I know why you did it and I’m grateful, but you gotta stop doing this shit, JJ.”
“Doing what?” His brows draw closer, a furrow that she’d like to smooth with her fingertip. “Saving your life? Protecting my friends? Sorry, but there’s no way I’m gonna stop doing that.”
His hands fall from her hips as he backs away, pulling his hat from his head to shove a hand through his hair.
“What do you want me to say Kie?” He shoves his hat back on and throws his arms out to the side.
“I fucking care about you, JJ! Can’t you see that when you make these risky plans there are people who care whether you’re okay? Who would be fucking devastated if something were to happen to you?” Her eyes dart to the silvery scar on his forehead, usually hidden by the swoop of his hair, but clearly visible with his hat on.
“It’s worth it,” he says, but there’s less conviction in his voice now, his gaze softening as he watches her chest rise as fall rapidly, her eyes filling. “If it keeps you safe, if it helps the Pogues, that’s worth it to me.”
“JJ,” she chokes out, overwhelmed. “I can’t–”
“Hey!” Pope’s voice breaks the moment, coming through the darkness from ahead. “Tortoise and the tortoise. You gonna catch up any time soon?”
JJ immediately winces and steps back from her, like he can disappear into the shadows and avoid whatever’s coming next. His face clouds over as she watches, as they're torn out of their bubble and shoved back into the reality of their lives.
She wishes that she could reach out to him, but her father’s money clip is burning a hole in her pocket, and he barely cheated death because he thinks his life is worthless. It feels like everything that’s piling up between them is starting to build a wall too high for her to climb over.
He nods at her, a quick jerk of his chin, like he can see all her thoughts written clearly all over her face, his hands jammed into his pockets. Like he wants her to stay on the other side of that wall, far away from him
“JJ–” she starts, but he’s already jogging away in the direction of their friends, leaving her standing alone in the dark, wishing that he’d just talk to her.
“Kie, you coming?” Sarah calls out, and she can just make out her figure waiting for her beyond the next yellowy circle of lamplight.
She hurries to catch up with them, feeling like everything’s slipping away from her.
***
Later that night, she tosses and turns, unable to sleep. There’s so much going on in her head and her heart, a confusing mixture of affection and disappointment and utter relief. She doesn’t even know how she should be feeling about everything that’s happened in the last few days. It’s been a whirlwind – a non-stop barrage of emotional conversations and frustrating distance and arguments that have been brewing finally coming to pass.
Kiara’s mind drifts to one of those moments, when dread pooled in her stomach as her fingers clenched tight around embossed leather.
“Why do you have this?” she’d asked him in a low voice, adrenaline pumping as the train sped past them and Sarah and the rest of the crew took off with the cross, the police in pursuit. They didn’t have time for a conversation like this, didn’t have the luxury of talking it out, but she was so stunned that she couldn’t make herself leave it alone.
He’d refused to look at her, his voice low. “If I’m gonna be accused of being a thief, I might as well get something out of it.”
“You’re just giving them ammunition,” she’d said, and she couldn’t even put into words exactly what she felt knowing that JJ had swiped the money clip on purpose from her house.
JJ’s always been the type of person to react emotionally, to make snap judgements and act before thinking. He had more than enough reason to be pissed off after her dad had laid into him and basically accused him of ruining her life, but the idea of him purposely sabotaging things cracked something in her chest.
It felt like the fragile thing between them, precariously balanced on a truce and a Pogue handshake, was about to topple over and shatter on the ground.
“Ammunition for what, Kie?” His angry glare met hers in a battle of wills before he turned away, hands tightening on the grips of the bike. “They were already against me, so who cares.”
“But they didn’t have a reason,” she said, and it felt like he was throwing everything on the tracks nearby, any possibility of them crushed beneath the speeding train. “You’re giving them a reason.”
She didn’t believe JJ had ruined her life. In fact, she cared about him so damn much, probably more than she should, and she was going to keep showing him until it sunk into his brain that she wasn’t going anywhere. Because he was so important to her and she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it.
But she knew JJ didn’t see things that way, and the conversation they’d had at his house the other day had peeled back a layer and showed her just what he thought of himself. How little he believed he was worth.
Underneath the bravado was a scared boy who’d been told all his life that he would never amount to anything. Who’d been knocked down over and over, always left behind and forgotten. It broke her heart watching him battle those demons, the conflict clear on his face as he echoed her words.
Not bad weird.
But then he’d backed away, shouting and throwing things with his muscles coiled tight, and it hurt to see him retreat into himself when she wanted nothing more than to help him.
She’d choked out those same words, barely holding back tears, her heart in her throat.
And he’d lashed out even more at that, the idea that she’d be willing to help him somehow driving him even further away. Had hurled the word Kook at her because he knew it would hurt. That it was the one thing that would, a barbed arrow to her conflicted soul.
He’d felt bad after. She saw the regret instantly flash across his face before he smothered it, his fists tightening and shoulders lifting defensively. And as much as hearing him call her that stung, she knew that he didn’t really mean it.
So she hadn’t let him push her away. Had forged forwards instead, determined to make him understand that he could call her names and try to drive her away, but she wasn’t going anywhere. And instead of staying and actually talking to her, he’d run away, jumping onto his bike and tearing out of the backyard despite her impassioned pleas.
They’d set everything straight afterwards, shaking on the truce that JJ claimed to want, and while they’d Etch a Sketched the whole thing, it wasn’t like she could turn her feelings off like a faucet. She was so used to having his steady presence by her side that when she needed to explain to her parents why she needed to go to Wilmington, she’d begged him to come with her.
“Are you kidding Kie? Me and your parents don’t mix. If I’m there, it’s not gonna make things any easier,” he’d said, kicking his feet up on the old stool outside the Chateau. “You’re better off on your own.”
She couldn’t help but think he meant more than just right now, than just going to talk to her parents. But with their newly agreed upon truce fresh in her mind, she let it slide.
She fixed him with a pleading look instead, one he’d never been able to deny in all the years they’d been friends. “I need you to come,” she’d said. “I need backup. They’re never gonna believe the whole story if it’s just me.”
He still looked wary, but he didn’t outright shut her down. “What do I get out of it?” he had asked after a moment, a teasing smirk on his face, and that’s when she knew she had him.
She’d leaned in a bit, and his eyes dipped to her mouth, so quickly that she almost didn’t notice. It made her heart race, the idea that JJ wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss him. Made her think of her hands on his waist, their bodies thrown together on the rocking boat. Him stepping closer like they were magnetic, his fingers brushing the stack of bracelets on her wrist.
No. They called a truce, she reminded herself.
“It’ll be fine. I promise,” she said assuredly, and looking back she really shouldn’t have promised that.
But she couldn’t have predicted the way her dad would go off on him. The way he laid into him way too aggressively, like there was something specific about JJ that put him on edge.
JJ had lingered in the kitchen like he was trying to be invisible, and she could tell he felt uncomfortable in their bright white kitchen amongst the shiny appliances. It was far too much space for three people to share and his gaze kept darting around, his hands nervously fiddling with his hat.
When she’d looked to him for help, to back her up as she saw her chance to convince her parents disappearing out the window, he had jumped in, although in a typically JJ way. It was clear by his tone that he didn’t really want to speak up, but he listed off the points one by one, ticking them off on his fingers.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw her mom soften, just slightly. Like she’d been on the verge of believing the whole story and having anyone, even JJ, back Kiara up had solidified her gut instincts.
But her dad had gotten in JJ’s face so aggressively that Kiara had actually been worried that he was going to hit him. Her heart pounding in her throat, she’d leapt to her feet, trying to set things straight, reminding them that she’d been miserable without the Pogues. But in her dad’s mind it was JJ’s fault, all of it.
And JJ, the boy who had such a short fuse, who’d leapt into more fights that she could remember, who didn’t let anyone get in his face or say shit to him without giving it back just as good, had just stood there.
Jerked his chin up, jaw flexing, throat bobbing. The look of defeat, of acceptance on his face made her want to cry. Like her dad had just said aloud all the horrible things JJ had already been telling himself.
She could feel him slipping away, as he clenched his jaw and muttered something about not meaning any disrespect, his voice tight. She raised her voice at her dad and tried to meet JJ’s eyes, but he refused to look at her, making a quick exit out of the kitchen and leaving her alone with her parents.
“What is wrong with you?” she’d cried, and her dad had just shrugged as though he didn’t see anything wrong with what had just happened.
As though it was totally normal for him to lose it on her best friend, a kid who had less than nothing. Who was trying to keep himself afloat on his own because his own parents had left him. Like it was okay to blame JJ for what her father didn’t like about his own daughter, as though JJ was the one who made her that way.
“He’s just like his father,” her dad seethed, which set off her mom, who yelled back to not bring Luke into it.
“He’s nothing like his father,” Kiara had shouted, cutting them both off. The faint sound of the front door slamming echoed through the house. “You don’t know anything about him. You’ve never even bothered to get to know him.”
“I don’t need to get to know him. I was him, Kiara.” Her dad crossed his arms, muscles flexing as though he was still holding himself back and she’d rushed through the living room, fury burning through her veins.
Her mom had chased after her, desperately pressing a phone and a credit card into her hands, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like her mom actually cared about her. Not about the image she was giving off or what trouble Kiara would make for their family, but her. Like believing her daughter had been lost forever had made her realize she’d been going about things all wrong.
When Kiara stepped out on the porch JJ was on his bike, idling in the driveway. She’d jogged towards him, her heart lifting at the sight of him, completely unaware at the time that he’d fallen back into old habits, burned into him by years of neglect. Clueless that he was just going to prove her parents right and purposely drive a wedge between them.
With those thoughts on her mind it takes her a long time to fall asleep, the money clip still shoved into the front pocket of her backpack. Her dad hadn’t been awake when she got in, but her mom had hovered around until Kiara had climbed the stairs to her room, so she hasn’t had a chance to replace it.
Maybe she can just slip it back where it was undetected in the morning. Maybe her dad doesn’t even need to know JJ took it. That would only make things worse anyways.
Thinking of the way her dad looks at JJ makes her stomach flip uncomfortably. She knows that JJ’s got a reputation, that the Maybanks are known around the island for less than stellar reasons.
But her dad also used to be a Pogue and he knows how Kildare works. The way the town’s rumour mill picks up speed over the tiniest little thing. He also knows what it’s like to pull yourself out of the situation you were born into and make a better life for yourself. So she cannot understand why he’s so against the Pogues, and JJ in particular. Why can't he see the similarities between them and give a little bit of leeway, show a tiny shred of understanding?
Because JJ was dealt a shitty hand in life. And he could have let it drag him down, but he hasn’t. Instead he’s constantly trying, always looking to prove that he’s better than his past, than where his parents ended up. Despite his chronic need to fuck things up when he feels threatened, he’s a genuinely good person.
And he’s absolutely nothing like Luke.
For some reason, her dad can’t see that. Kiara has tried to talk to him about it, but it’s been years of the same kinds of comments. Her father’s never been open to seeing JJ as anything but trash, and she’s realizing that there might not be anything she can do about it.
She definitely needs to slip the money clip back undetected, she decides. She’s pissed at JJ, and stealing it was wrong, but if her dad hasn’t noticed and she can put it back before he does, it will save them all a world of trouble. Just like she told him earlier, JJ doesn’t need to give her dad another reason to come after him.
She grabs the money clip out of her backpack and creeps through the darkened house to the front entryway. It doesn’t seem like there’s anyone else up, thank god, and so she puts it back and slips back to her bedroom without incident, hoping that maybe that will be the end of it.
***
When she shows up at the Chateau the next morning everyone’s already there, hanging around in the backyard, except for John B. Pope and Cleo are sitting together, talking quietly, Sarah’s perched on the edge of one of the rickety chairs, and JJ’s over by the hammock, a beer already in his hand.
Her stomach flips when she looks at him, because things feel unfinished between them after last night. She’s pissed at him, but her chest hurts too, and she just wants to talk to him. By the way he’s completely ignoring her, his eyes firmly focused out on the marsh, she can tell it’s not gonna happen.
Of course.
Because avoiding your problems is how you move past them.
With a frustrated sigh, she goes to sit down next to Sarah when John B bursts out the back door of the Chateau followed by…
“Big John?”
She can hardly believe her eyes. After everything that happened yesterday, the knowledge that John B’s dad was actually alive after being missing for nearly a year had somehow been pushed aside.
But now he’s there in front of her, somehow even larger than she remembers, and they all leap to their feet, laughter and excited chatter ringing through the air. Pope goes in for a hug, a huge grin on his face, and JJ jumps on Big John’s back like a little kid, playfighting and wrestling. Big John squeezes her tight just like she remembers, and it brings tears to her eyes, like she’s been sent back to a time when everything was simpler.
Everyone seems lighter, like after the crippling loss of the cross at least something has gone right. John B comes back out and tosses around beers, and it’s still the morning, but Kiara cracks one open anyway because they finally have something to celebrate.
When they sit down and John B explains what they’ve been up to though, the mood dampens quickly.
“It was a dead end,” John B says, not quite meeting anyone’s eyes. "A dry hole."
“So that's the gold, the cross, and now El Dorado,” Pope says bitterly. “We're three for three guys.”
He’s not wrong, but the way John B’s sitting so stiffly makes her think maybe he’s not telling the entire truth. JJ’s eyeing him suspiciously as well, but before she can question their story, Pope announces that he’s heading out.
Shit.
She’s gotta go too. There’s a Carrera family meeting scheduled this morning that she’s dreading but absolutely can’t avoid. Nerves flutter in her stomach when she thinks about what her parents could possibly threaten or take away this time, but she knows she needs to see it through if she wants to keep repairing their relationship.
She shoots a final look in JJ’s direction and she swallows thickly when he doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “See ya John B,” she says sadly, lost in her thoughts as she makes her way out of the backyard.
The sound of footsteps trail behind her and without turning around, she just knows it’s JJ. She needs to get home, but also doesn’t want to leave again without at least trying to talk to him and clear the air.
“Hey, JJ, hang on,” she calls out as he cuts across the marsh towards his house.
He stiffens but freezes.
“What’s up?” he asks warily.
“Um, I just. Can we talk?”
He sighs, his eyes cutting away to the side. “I got places to be Kie. Rain check?”
She presses her lips together. “You can’t wait five minutes to go fishing?”
JJ just shrugs. “Gotta get out while they’re biting. You know how it is.”
Her shoulders curve in, hurt, but not surprised. The tension between them is uncomfortable, and he’s avoiding her eyes, and it all feels wrong wrong wrong.
But she can’t let it go, needs to talk to him, argue with him, anything.
“Why’d you do it?” she says, and he flinches slightly at the frustration in her voice. “Why’d you take it?”
He twists his lips, looking uncomfortable. Knowing exactly what she’s referring to.
“I told you. They already–”
“Don’t. Don’t give me that line, JJ.” It feels so important, this conversation. Like everything is resting on his answer. Because she’s put the money clip back, but she can feel it lingering between them still, a hammer that’s poised to fall any moment.
“It’s not a line, Kie. If they believe I’m this person that they’ve convinced themselves I am, then why shouldn’t I get something out of it?”
“But you’re just giving them a reason!”
“A reason for what?” he shoots back, like he knows what she means but wants to make her say it.
She presses her lips together on a sigh. “A reason to be against you,” she says quietly, sadly.
Because in her heart it’s not just that. It’s that he’s purposely giving her parents a reason to be against them. The idea of them even. Sabotaging anything that could be happening between them before it even has a chance to begin.
It’s what he does when he’s scared. When he’s backed into a corner and feels threatened.
But it hurts all the same, watching his jaw tick and his eyes flash, knowing that he intentionally crushed the tiny flicker of hope she’d felt, bringing him into her house yesterday. JJ keeps attempting to make everything more of an uphill battle than it already is.
“They’ve got enough reasons already. What’s one more,” he replies, and the acceptance in his voice makes her chest ache.
“But you aren’t that person,” she cries softly. “You’re not.”
“Doesn't matter,” he says bitterly, looking off to the side as her stomach sinks. “It’s not like I’ll ever be good enough.”
For you.
He doesn’t say it, but she hears it all the same.
He meets her eyes and there’s so much pain there, so much left unspoken, and she’s reminded again that he feels so much. That no matter what he tries to pretend, there’s a depth to him that no one else sees but her. Because he trusts her. He lets her in.
“JJ…” She steps closer. “It’s not just that.”
“Then what is it?”
“You self sabotaging anything good in your life because you don’t think you deserve it.”
He flinches at her words as though they’re bullets, before shrugging jerkily, chin dipped down towards the ground. “I don’t, Kie. Look at me. I stole from your dad. Like, that’s messed up.”
She nods. “Yeah. It is. But I understand why you did it.”
He flicks his gaze up at her, expression flattening at whatever he sees on her face. “He probably didn’t even miss the money,” he says carelessly, like it’s a completely normal thing to do, and she fights the urge to scream.
“JJ…”
There’s no reasoning with him when he’s like this, avoiding eye contact and refusing to really talk to her. He’s purposely pushing her away and it’s so frustrating because she just wants him to hear her. Wants him to understand, but he’s closed himself off to her, his clenched jaw and tight fists as good as any locked door.
She opens her mouth to respond, though she doesn’t even know what she wants to say. Somehow, she needs to balance the fine line between making him understand that his choices affect her and keeping her distance so he won’t bolt, but before she can sort out her thoughts, he’s backing away.
“I gotta go, Kie,” he says, and then she’s left staring at his back as he disappears through the marsh, frustration and hurt still simmering inside of her.
She turns and stalks away, hears the echo of his sigh across the marsh before his footsteps fade away in the opposite direction.
She spends her drive home annoyed and frustrated with JJ, fingers clenched tight on the steering wheel. When she walks into the house to find her parents waiting for her in the kitchen, her dad’s money clip sitting on the table, her annoyance fades as a thick blanket of dread settles over her.
Her dad speaks up, a tight fury in his low tone. “You wanna explain how this miraculously appeared back home this morning?”
He clearly already knows the answer, and she grits her teeth, irritated and hurt but knowing that she needs to smooth things over. She remembers the pamphlets, the wilderness camps and boarding schools that would take her far away from her friends and everything familiar. As much as it pains her, she needs to attempt to fall into line if she truly wants to repair things with her parents and prove that she’s changed. JJ stealing from her dad hasn’t helped things, but she can fix this if she goes along with whatever they want.
“It was just…” She lets the words trail off, not even sure how to explain.
“He’s a thief,” her dad says, his voice rising as he gets more worked up.
Somehow her mom has become the cool voice of reason, and Kiara looks to her gratefully when she speaks. “We’re not going to press charges, though.”
Her dad miraculously agrees to that, but in his next breath insists that she drop JJ, his tone firm, leaving no room for excuses. She immediately wants to argue but swallows the urge.
“I know,” she says sadly, her throat thick. Agreeing with them makes her want to scream, but it’s the path of least resistance to keeping her life the way it is. “He stole. I’m gonna back off.”
“I’m proud of you, Kie. This is the first step. You’re starting to see more clearly,” her dad says, and it makes her sick that this is what finally makes him proud of her.
It’s painful holding it all in, not explaining all the reasons JJ is one of the best people that she knows, because she knows her dad won’t listen to her. His mind was made up years ago. But she just agrees to back off, nodding along with whatever they say because it feels like the only way to make sure that she stays here and with the Pogues.
And then the hits keep coming because Sarah knocks uncertainly on the door, a nervous smile on her face. It hurts to send her away, a painful ache in her chest as her parents stand resolutely behind her, reminding her that they need ‘family time’, whatever the hell that means. And it hurts to ignore texts from John B and Pope wondering where she is.
But what hurts even more is the absence of anything from JJ. The silence speaks volumes. It feels like a mountain that she doesn’t know how to climb.
There’s clearly something happening between them – it’s been shifting and evolving since Poguelandia, and neither of them can deny it. But what she doesn’t know is if anything can ever come of it. It feels like there’s so many obstacles in their way, and the biggest, most obtrusive one is JJ himself.
And she gets it. She does. Like she told him, she knows that he freaks out when people get too close. It’s complicated for him to let people in. So while she’d like to push it and force him to talk to her, she’ll give him space instead. It’s what she promised her parents she would do anyways, and as much as she hates it, it’s not like he’s begging her to talk either.
But just because she understands doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting. That she doesn’t wish to be the one person he would make an exception for. But instead he’s taken off with John B to who knows where, and all she can think about is how much she wants to talk to him.
Feeling particularly melancholy, she curls up on her bed and pulls out her photo box, letting her mind wander through memories. Back when things were easier, when she didn’t have to tiptoe through life, afraid that one misstep would blow everything up.
Her phone remains stubbornly silent, and when she uncovers a photo of JJ grinning lazily at her, perched comfortably in a tree, she can’t help the wistful smile that comes to her face or the pang in her chest.
She just wants to be close to him, especially after almost losing him last night. Her body is screaming for him, but he doesn't seem to feel the same way. No, he seems to want more and more space, to be as far away from her as possible. It’s a typical JJ response, to retreat and isolate himself, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
There’s enough other stuff going on, especially with the mile long list waiting for her tomorrow to organize her parents’ anniversary party, that it’s helped to keep her mind off things. But sometimes she can’t help getting lost in thought, wondering what he’s doing. If he’s thinking about her as much as she’s thinking about him.
There had been so many charged moments lately – in his backyard, on the boat, on the island – when she knew that they were on the same page. Both of them lost in each other and the growing feelings between them, unable to deny how they felt. The truce he suggested was a pause more than anything else. To let them regain their footing, to figure out how they fit back in the OBX and what it all means.
She doesn't know how to get him to talk to her, and she doesn't want to force him if he’s not ready, but she desperately wishes that he could see how badly she wants to figure things out. He’s always known her better than anyone so maybe he can see it. Maybe that’s what’s made him push her away even further, ignoring her texts and phone calls.
Running her thumb across the bottom of the picture one last time, she places it back into the box with the rest before settling the lid on top and putting it back onto the shelf and then crawling back into bed.
Staring up at her darkened ceiling, her mind is unable to settle for the second night in a row. But even with things so unsettled between them, with him stealing from her dad and risking his life once again, her feelings are resolute. She meant what she said back on the boat.
Whatever happens they’re gonna handle it together.
She only hopes that he’ll realize that for himself soon.