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Kiara only makes it thirty minutes into the mainland before she pulls over to swap places with JJ. She’d insisted on driving, had figured it was the right thing to do. She’s pretty sure you’re not supposed to let people drive when they’re worked up and she’s seen Pope do enough damage to her vehicles that she’s not risking it.
But JJ hasn’t been smoking or injecting himself with pediatric doses of epinephrine as far as she’s aware–just fidgeting with a restless anxiety that bleeds into the air and adds to her own stress levels, until every tap of JJ’s fingers on the window or click of his seat belt as he shifts and unbuckles and rebuckles himself grates on her fraying nerves.
Kiara can’t help but wonder if Cousin Ricky actually was smoking that day. She still hasn’t worked out why a child’s dose would be so much stronger than an adult’s.
Anyway, she figures it's safe enough to let him drive. He could probably use the distraction of the road.
She watches JJ practically leap from his seat the moment she stops, barely waiting for her to pull the truck into park. He bounds over to the driver side, pulling the door open so that she can climb out.
“You know there’s no rush, right?” she asks as she slides out of the vehicle. “Like, we have time.”
“Yeah.” JJ shrugs noncommittally.
Kiara rounds the truck, sighing as she pulls herself into the now-empty passenger seat. She watches JJ slide the seat back so that his knees aren’t pressed up against the steering wheel. “It’s not like they’re going anywhere.”
“Right,” he agrees with her. But she can hear it in his voice, see it in the way he holds himself as he leans forward to see the traffic before he pulls the truck back onto the road that he doesn’t quite believe it.
When JJ’s phone rang yesterday Kiara hadn’t really thought anything of it. She’d been unloading the dishwasher, not really paying attention except to shoot a curious glance over her shoulder at the noise to see JJ frowning at his screen before accepting the call and lifting the phone to his ear.
Until he had gone completely still listening to whoever was on the other end. He’d stayed still for about ten seconds after the call had ended before he’d become a blur of motion moving through their rental like a hurricane. She doesn’t think he’s really stopped moving since.
She’d managed to convince him that night to just take a moment and plan. Neither of them know Raleigh. It’s something like a five hour drive. Even if they’d managed to catch the last ferry off the island that night they’d just end up staying the night somewhere, unable to do anything until the next morning. Better to take the evening, pack their bags properly, and figure out getting off work and where they were going to stay instead of racing off into the night.
JJ had understood, but still spent the night in a frenetic state, packing and unpacking his bag, coming into a room to grab something he’d forgotten and accidentally leaving two things behind. Eventually Kie had just dragged him outside, pushed a beer into his hand and lit up.
She’d called it a night early, knowing they would need to be up early to head to the mainland. JJ had stayed out after she’d gone in, still nursing the same beer she’d handed to him earlier. She isn’t sure what time he’d crawled into bed, only that she’d woken up when he did, smelling like weed and curling around her like he was afraid to let go.
He’d already been up when her alarm had dragged her reluctantly out of her sleep in the morning, so Kie figures he must have barely slept at all. JJ’s never up before her unless it’s to go surfing. He’s more one to roll out of bed at the last minute possible and rush out the door with their head barely attached.
She shifts slightly, rolling her neck as they pass the sign for New Bern.
“How much longer from here?” JJ asks.
“Like an hour and a half hour,” she reminds him. “Maybe two.”
“Shoulda just flown,” he mutters.
“Right. I’ll add a private jet to the shopping list.”
“We’re kooks now, Kie.” JJ flashes a grin at her. She feels her heart unclench slightly at the sight of it. “How can we call ourselves the new Ward Camerons if we don’t even have a plane?”
“Might have to do a bit more secret scheming if we wanna be the next Ward Cameron,” she tells him. “You know, evil plots, that sort of thing.” JJ snorts in response but it’s half hearted. Muted. Almost as if dimmed by the cloud hanging over him.
A flare of anger surges through her, hot and quick, before she can clamp down on it. She doesn’t want to be angry yet, doesn’t want to end up saying something she can’t take back because this is completely JJ’s thing. And even though she knows if she stops to think about it for more than five seconds it’ll sink in just exactly how fucked up it is that these people, the people assigned to take care of him, keep doing this shit, she doesn’t want the way she’s feeling about it to dictate how this going to go.
She’s probably not really being fair. It wasn’t even his mom that called him, just his aunt. His aunt that Kiara hadn’t even known existed.
“She’s kind of a kook,” JJ had explained on the ferry, pacing back and forth along the railing while she remained seated, watching him. “Her husband has one of those made-up jobs that no one really knows what they do, like consulting or, like, a project manager. Like, consulting about what. What project?”
“Do you know her?” she cut in.
“Nah.” He had shrugged, turning to hang over the rail for a moment as he answered. “I kinda remember seeing her when I was little. Before–” He had cut himself off, shaking his head slightly as he spun around to face her. “She was never here long. Always argued a lot when she was, though.”
“You and her?”
“Huh? No.” JJ had resumed his patrol in front of her. “With my mom, mostly. With Dad sometimes, too."
Silence had fallen between them while Kiara had digested the information.
She feels like she's still digesting it. That JJ’s had some kook aunt living six hours inland this whole time. It just doesn’t add up when she thinks about JJ, she can’t factor this new variable into the sum of the man sitting next to her. It’s totally unlike anything she’s ever heard about his family. Totally unlike the things she’s heard about his mom, too.
Not that she’d heard all that much about Caroline Maybank. JJ hardly talks about her at all, just the rare, offhand comment before he thinks the better of mentioning it. Kie knows that she had a Jeep and a yellow surfboard. She knows that she smoked Marlboros. And she knows that she left before JJ was really friends with her and Pope, but after he was friends with John B. And who could really blame her? Kiara’s met Luke.
Then again, Kiara’s met Luke. And maybe she can understand why Caroline Maybank left, but she’ll never understand how she didn’t come back, even once.
She’s glad that JJ’s the one behind the wheel once they get to the city. Kiara can feel her stress levels rising as the streets get narrower and turn into one-ways, and the buildings get taller, blocking the sky. If she had been the one driving, they would have just had to go in circles for a bit while her maps app rerouted them when JJ finds himself in the furthest left lane just before he needs to make a right turn. He pulls it off somehow, though.
It’s not until he cuts the engine in the parking lot that he lets out a deep breath that makes Kiara pause, hand already on her door handle. She turns slightly, watching as JJ stares at the building in front of them and the man on a mission look in his eyes drops a bit, like he’d been so focused on getting here that he never stopped to think about what was waiting for him inside.
She bites her lip, trying to decide what to say. She’s not really sure there’s anything that can help. What do you say to someone when your long lost aunt calls you for the first time to tell you that your also long lost mother is in the hospital, like you’ll just drop everything and show up for her. And maybe that’s exactly what they did, but still. There’s something in the way that JJ seems so unsure of himself, so small, that reminds her of when they were kids and makes her want to drag him over to the passenger seat and put her foot down to get them the hell away from here.
“You know, visiting hours aren’t over until eight,” she offers. “We could get something to eat first.” He nods absently. “Or we could go check into the hotel,” she continues. “Get settled, come back in the morning. You don’t have to do anything right now.”
JJ takes another deep breath and flashes her what she thinks is supposed to be a smile. “Let’s just get it over with.” He finally pushes his door open and jumps out. She follows behind him, slightly slower. “Nothing to lose, right?” he throws over his shoulder, before he stops, waiting for her. Kiara can’t quite bring herself to say it back.
There’s a lot to lose, actually, she thinks. The way he remembers his mom. Whatever's left of his childhood. Because Kiara knows that for all JJ likes to pretend his mom doesn’t exist, he mentions her mostly in terms of good. Learning how to surf. Driving with the windows down. She wants him to have those things.
His grip is tight on her hand as they find their way through the halls. Kiara hates hospitals. She hates how cold and impersonal they feel. She doesn’t really get how it’s supposed to function as an environment that’s conducive to the emotional needs of healing.
She’s pretty sure they go in circles for a bit–there’s a nurses’ station that looks suspiciously familiar–but finally they reach a room with a woman standing outside, typing furiously on her phone. She only looks up when JJ comes to a halt in front of her. His grip on Kie’s hand is almost painful. She squeezes his hand back, and it loosens.
“Aunt Kimmy?” he asks. Kiara watches as the recognition clicks in the woman’s eyes.
“JJ,” she gasps, stuffing her phone into her pocket. She steps forward and has her arms wrapped around JJ so quickly that Kie barely has time to register what’s happening and drop JJ’s hand so he can return the hug. He does, like he’s on autopilot. “Oh, you got so tall.”
JJ steps away from her the second he can, doesn’t answer except for an awkward laugh, that sounds so unlike him. She’s used to JJ oozing charisma in any situation, bullshitting their way out of trouble with a relaxed ease. He reaches for her hand again, iron grip back in place.
Kimmy’s eyes flick over to her, sharp and assessing–and a very familiar shade of blue, she realizes with a jolt–in a way that makes Kiara bristle. As if Kiara is the intruder in this situation, as if JJ hasn’t been six feet tall since they were fifteen and anyone who had bothered to stay in touch, had bothered to check in every now and then, would have known that.
“I’m Kiara,” she offers, getting the sense that JJ isn’t exactly thinking about introductions.
“Oh yeah,” he starts, seemingly shaken out of it by Kiara speaking. “Kie, this is my Aunt Kimmy. This is Kiara Carrera.”
“Carrera,” she says, slowly. “I knew a Mike Carrera, once.”
“That’s my dad,” she supplies.
“No way.” A smile spreads over Kimmy’s face. “Small world, huh?”
“Small island.” She shrugs, not quite liking the familiar tone of the statement, like they can be friends now because Kimmy knew her dad twenty years ago. Everyone knows each other on Kildare.
“Is she in there?” JJ interrupts, finally at an end of his uncharacteristic patience, fed up with this reunion.
The smile drops right off of Kimmy’s face. It makes her look tired, and like she’s maybe a bit older than Kie had originally taken her for.
“Yeah.” She sighs. “But she’s sleeping. I was actually about to leave,” she trails off. Kie recognizes it as a dismissal.
JJ doesn’t make any move to respond, just stares at the closed door like he’ll gain X-ray vision and be able to see beyond it.
Kie feels like the curiosity might eat her alive. As far as she knows, last night’s phone call hadn’t exactly gotten into what happened, had only covered the more “it’s serious, you should come” aspect of things. And beyond that she wants to see JJ’s mother for herself. Like maybe just seeing her will hold an answer to some of the questions she’s been left with.
“Look.” Kimmy pauses, glancing down at her phone again. “Have you eaten? Do you want to get supper or something?”
And she didn’t think it was possible at this point, but somehow, she feels JJ grow even tenser next to her. “Uh,” he says.
“Maybe tomorrow,” she cuts in. “I think we’re gonna go check into the hotel. Get settled. Right, Jay?”
“Yes!” he agrees, a little too quick to be casual. “Yeah, uh, we’re gonna– you know, check in and like, unpack or whatever, and–yeah.” He gestures vaguely around the hall, like somehow that might help him sound smoother.
“I’ll be back in the afternoon tomorrow,” his aunt says, sounding relieved enough that it sets Kiara’s teeth on edge a bit. She’s sure it would be a relief to get out of sitting across a table from a nephew you haven’t so much as sent a friend request on Facebook to in over ten years.
Especially when she’s wearing a ring that looks like it's worth more than all the possessions JJ had to his name pre-treasure hunt combined. Not when JJ still wears his boots right down to the soles because he claims they’re more comfortable worn in and her shirt looks like it’s dryclean only. And she probably takes it to the dry cleaner's too, Kiara thinks bitterly, doesn’t just throw it in the wash and leave it in fate's hands.
She makes up some excuse about needing to answer texts and use the washroom that lets them hang back to avoid having to walk back to the parking lot with Kimmy. She doesn’t think anyone’s really in the mood for awkward small talk. She doubts it's even two minutes before she decides the coast is clear enough and sets off back the way they’d come, not wanting to stand around a moment longer. JJ’s gaze lingers an extra moment on the door before he follows.
JJ is quiet on their way back to the truck, but seems to slightly brighten back up as they find the hotel. It’s nice, the kind of place where Kiara still feels a bit weird staying without her parents to lend some credibility to the whole ‘upstanding citizen’ thing. JJ drops his bag and belly flops onto the bed the second the door closes behind them.
Kie follows him more slowly, steps out of her shoes at the door and puts her bag on a chair, before sinking onto the bed. She gazes down at him, taking down the stillness that feels unnatural for JJ, and pushes her hand through his hair. He groans softly, leaning into her touch.
“‘So hungry,” he mumbles, voice slightly muffled in the blankets.
And so they order an absurd amount of food and JJ doesn’t even try to change the channel when Kie turns on home renovations shows and starts telling him exactly what she’d change about their place if they owned it.
She slips into the bathroom, when they eventually turn the show off for the night, finally checking her texts. There’s only three she really pays attention to. John B’s 'how is he,' Sarah’s 'how are you,' and her mom’s 'how are things.'
She texts Sarah back first. It’s easiest. She’s fine. Toeing the line of violent rage a bit, but fine. She stares at the cursor blinking under John B’s name slightly longer, deciding what to say. He’s quiet, she finally texts back, and if there’s anyone who will know exactly what she means it’s John B. She leaves the text from her mom.
The light from the bathroom floods into the room when she opens the door, leaving her blinking against the sudden darkness when she shuts it off and feels her way back into bed. The city is loud, the white noise of air conditioning broken by the noise of traffic and sirens, so unlike the island noises she’s used to.
JJ sighs deeply next to her. She knew JJ wasn’t sleeping, could feel that he was awake, so she takes this as an invitation for conversation.
“What are you thinking,” she whispers.
“I don’t know,” he whispers back. She waits, letting him figure out if he wants to say more. He sits up slowly. She takes him in, arms resting on his knees, and the light from the building seeming to shine off his hair. It’s pretty, she thinks absently, the lights of the city at night. Nothing like the view of the water from their house is, but beautiful in its own way.
“It’s just, like, I’m so close, you know? And she’s still not here.” He fixes his gaze on the illuminated sign hanging off the building across the road from them. “She’s literally minutes away, Kie. I stood literal feet away from her and it’s just nothing.”
“We don’t have to go back,” she says quietly.
“I do, though,” he snaps, before taking a deep brief. “Sorry. I’m just–” He leans forward slightly, pushing both hands through his hair. “I’m sorry.”
She bites her lip, not sure what to say to him.
She wants to grab him and tell him he’s better than these people, that he doesn’t deserve for these people to make him feel like this, and shake him until he understands.
She wants to drive over to Kimmy’s house and let her know exactly what kind of difference literally just talking to JJ could have made, if JJ had even one adult in his life that didn’t think tax fraud was something normal, and then tell her to go fuck herself.
She wants to go back to the hospital and make his mother explain how she could have left someone as good as JJ, whose smile is as bright as the sun, in a house that dark and gloomy. She wants to dare the world to take her on. She wants to be soft and warm and gentle with him, to figure out how to temper the fire licking through her veins that makes her want to burn the world and go to battle with JJ’s entire extended family, and just be here with him.
“What if it’s the same tomorrow?” he breaks the silence, voice small. “Like, it's just reasons I can’t go in there until she leaves again?”
Kiara reaches her hand out, curling her fingers around his pinky when she finally brushes against him.
“Then we come back here,” she tells him. “Apparently the pool has a wave machine. Think you could body surf?”
He snorts loudly. “Kie, how many times I gotta tell you? I could surf anything. They don’t call me King of the OBX for nothin’.”
She rolls her eyes, then remembers he can’t see it. She pushes herself onto her side. “Literally no one has ever called you that, JJ.”
“Kie, I promise.”
“Name one person.”
“John B.”
She narrows her eyes at him. “No way has JB ever said that. He’d for sure say that he’s the King of the OBX.”
“Fine, then. Pope.”
“Oh yeah, and Cleo and Sarah too. Shit,” she slaps a palm to her forehead, “you do have that life size statue on the beach, how could I forget?”
He pulls his hand out of her grip, but only to pull her closer so that she’s nestled against him. “You know, Kie, that’s not a bad idea,” he hums, lips brushing against her curls. “Maybe I’ll commission one.”
“I’d graffiti it,” she tells him sweetly.
“By all means, feel free to write on it about my huge–ow, hey,” he yelps, interrupted by her elbow digging into his ribs. “No, I’m serious. JJ Maybank: King of the OBX, Excellent at Plans, Passionate Lover–”
“Dumbass,” she supplies.
“Whatever, you like it,” he grins at her.
“Yeah. I do.” She holds his gaze, even as the smile slips away from his face, like he’s taken aback by the intensity of her words. She lets a beat of silence pass before she breaks it. “I know it feels like tomorrow is about her. But it’s not. It’s about you. You get to decide what happens now. And if you don’t want to go back, or change your mind when we’re there I will drive us home the second you say so. But I’ll be right beside you the whole time. No matter what.”
He doesn’t answer, just tucks her under his chin again. And once his breathing evens and deepens she lets its rhythm lull her to sleep.
The ride to the hospital is quieter than it was the day before. Not that there had really been much conversation. But this is a different quiet, a truer one, without the restless tapping of fingers in the steering wheel, or JJ flipping between songs before one actually finished. Without the stifling anxiety.
It’s replaced instead by a look of grim determination on JJ’s face and a steady grip on the wheel, nervousness only betrayed by too-white knuckles.
They retrace their steps. Park in the same section with the view of the tree that looks like it’s one strong gust away from falling over. Walk down the same hallway past the nurses’ station they definitely did circles around. She squeezes JJ’s hand when they finally turn down the last hallway and feels his fingers tighten around hers in return.
It’s different than yesterday. She can feel the nervous anticipation in the strength of JJ’s grip, but it’s not the horrible life-or-death grip that had felt like fear. It’s steadier.
The door is open. It’s almost anti-climatic, Kiara thinks. All the time she’s spent wondering about her, the woman that must be responsible for the best parts of JJ. The selflessness, the loyalty, the easy way he smiles. She’s spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about it, trying to make sense of the almost baffling resilience JJ has, to be the best person she knows in spite of the hand he’s been dealt. Like a puzzle where Kiara has been imagining half the pieces. Trying to figure out how JJ’s smiles are tinged with mischief, like you’re sharing an inside joke when he directs them at you. Like you’re special. Kie’s never seen a smile from Luke that doesn’t feel like the punchline to some cruel joke.
Years of wondering, ended as JJ pulls her with him into the room.
Her first thought is that she just looks like a normal person.
She’s not really sure what she expected. Caroline has always existed as someone slightly larger than life to Kiara. She’s a bit too much of a realist not to recognize that if JJ ever mentions her at all, it’s usually through a rose-tinted lens. But still. She looks jarringly human.
Her next thought, immediately on the heels of the first, is that she looks like JJ. Almost alarmingly so.
It’s not like she’d ever found herself wondering what JJ might look like as a middle aged woman, but she doesn’t have to anymore because she’s staring at the answer.
There’s a moment where it’s dead quiet and the silence seems to stretch on forever. Realistically Kiara knows it’s only seconds, but it may be the most drawn out, skin-crawling uncomfortableness she’s ever experienced as they all stare at each other.
For her, at least. Because while Kiara is trying to decide whether it would be better to just melt into the floor or grab JJ and run, JJ’s mom recovers.
“Oh, hey!” she says, a cheerful surprise colouring her tone, like they had just stepped out for a minute and got back early.
“Hey.” JJ’s response is flat. Reflexive. Like he’s talking to someone else but distracted by what’s in front of him.
Caroline’s smile falters a bit when JJ doesn’t give her anything else. He stays exactly where he is, frozen in place. “JJ,” she says, voice betraying what sounds like apprehension. Her eyes drift over to Kie. “And…”
“Kiara,” he answers.
“Carrera,” she adds helpfully. She has the stupidest urge to wave.
Caroline frowns slightly. “I knew a Mike Carrera, once.”
Kie feels like banging her head against something. She could swear she had this exact conversation less than twelve hours ago. “That’s my dad.”
“No shit, huh.” Caroline smiles, like they’re old friends catching up. Seriously, what is it with these people and their stupid familiarity. Then she pauses, her smile taking on a mischievous tilt. “You’re not his kid with Anna Richards?”
“The one and only,” she replies, trying to sound as pleasant as possible.
Caroline leans forward, eyes lightening up. “Oh, no way .”
“Yep.” Kie forces her smile to stay plastered across her face, unwilling to start discussing her parents. That is not the parent drama she mentally prepared herself for today.
“So–”
“Why are you here?” JJ cuts in abruptly. There’s an accusatory tone to the words and a hard cut to his jaw. Kiara runs her thumb over the back of his hand. His jaw flexes.
Kimmy stands suddenly. Kie hadn’t even noticed she was there. “I’m going to get coffee. Kiara, can I get you to help me carry them?”
It doesn’t really sound like a request, but Kiara doesn’t really care.
“Oh, actually–” she starts, but JJ lets her hand drop and gives her a slight nod so she resigns herself to it. She’s told him he’s in the driver’s seat here. And that’s good enough for her.
She stays quiet on the walk to the hospital coffee shop. The awkwardness of the silence gnaws at her a bit, but she’s not going to be the one doing the heavy lifting there. If Kimmy wants to make small talk she can.
Kimmy sighs loudly. Kiara braces herself. “I shouldn’t have called him.”
So much for courteous small talk then. Kiara just shrugs, not sure how to respond.
“I’m sorry,” she continues. “I know it’s complicated with JJ and his mom–”
“Not really,” Kie mutters, before she can help herself. Kimmy’s face tightens slightly, expression hard to read. She thinks it's somewhere between sadness, anger, and regret.
“It wasn’t really fair to put him in that position,” she tries again. “I don’t even know what I was thinking.”
“That his mom was going to die and maybe he’d want a chance to say goodbye?”
Kimmy sighs again and Kiara feels a hint of satisfaction. The conversation drops though, because when they turn the next corner it reveals the large, open common area and the coffee shop they’ve been looking for.
She orders an extra large of one of the fancier drinks on the menu with an extra shot of espresso. She needs it for this day. She orders JJ a hot chocolate, like they used to drink at the Chateau after long afternoons on the marsh–Pope manning the kettle, John B and JJ climbing on countertops and rifling through the cupboards for mugs and marshmallows.
Kie figures he could use it today.
Kimmy also adds espresso to her drink. Kiara refuses to feel any kind of solidarity in it. She doesn’t bother to put up any polite protests either when Kimmy pays for it all.
They sit at a small table by the window. The sun is warm as it shines onto the wood, dappled by the trees waving in the wind
“I figure we give them a couple extra minutes,” Kimmy says, leaning back in her chair. Kie leans back too, watching the way the tree branches are bending. She takes a sip of her coffee. It’s surprisingly good for a hospital. The uncomfortable silence falls again.
“Look,” Kimmy says again. “I wasn’t explaining myself very well. What I meant was, it put JJ in a shitty position to have to decide right away if he wants to see her because it’s his last chance. I overreacted, I guess. And I should’ve fucking known better.” She mumbles the last part.
Kie turns to face her fully, but Kimmy’s also staring out the window. “This always happens.” Kie stays silent, not wanting to interrupt whatever she’s about to say next. “She’s always fucking fine. She gets herself into the scariest situations and then it's like nothing happened. She’s the luckiest fucking person I know. I swear she probably should have died, like, five times by now.”
Kie raises her eyebrows at this new information and Kimmy finally seems to remember who she’s unloading this on. She takes a long sip of coffee. “It should be on her to reach back out. I’m sorry.”
“Not really me that needs an apology,” she shrugs.
Kimmy takes another swig of coffee like she wishes there was something stronger in it. “Yeah. It’s just been a long road for her. I mean, first all that shit with Luke, and then just–” she trails off, shaking her head.
“Sure,” Kiara agrees, icily. “I mean, I know Luke.”
She sighs. “It hasn’t been easy.”
“For any of us,” Kie replies.
“That’s for damn sure.” She looks tired as she says it. And in a moment of weakness Kie feels a twinge of sadness for her, before she shakes herself out of it.
The silence falls again. Kiara takes another sip of her coffee and watches as she shakes her wrist free of her sleeve to check a shiny gold watch. She smiles at Kie weakly. “I guess we should head back. Make sure everything’s still in one piece.”
The walk back is just as stilted as the way there. Kimmy tries her hand at the small talk Kie had been expecting. She keeps her answers short.
The room is silent when they enter. Tension sits in the air like they’ve just interrupted something. Kie crosses the room to the chair JJ is sitting in, hands him the drink and places her hand on his shoulder.
“How’re you doing,” she murmurs, quiet enough that only he can hear. His eyes look slightly red.
He stares at his mom for a minute before he looks up at her. “I think I’m about ready to go.”
“Oh, come on,” Caroline starts. “Don’t be like that.”
But JJ is standing, fishing the truck keys out of his pocket, and so Kiara doesn’t hesitate to head back the way she came from.
“JJ.”
He pauses, and so does Kie. She stays hovering by the door, watching as JJ approaches her again, gras the pen sitting on the nearby bedside table and pulls a crumbled receipt from the depths of one of his pockets. She watches the way Caroline bites her lips and her chin seems to tremble slightly as JJ scrawls out ten digits in his messy handwriting. He straightens without saying anything, quickly making his way back to Kiara’s side and then they’re gone, making their way back through the halls and out into the sunshine.
JJ leans back against the seat and shuts his eyes as the doors to the truck close. She takes him in for a second. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
“I don’t know. Not that much to tell, honestly.” He opens his eyes, looking at her. “She tried, it wasn’t her fault. That sort of thing.”
“You deserve more than that,” she says. He deserves someone who will do more than try. He hums noncommittally in response. “You gave her your number.”
“Uh, yeah. I did.” He shrugs. “I can always block her, right?”
“I’m proud of you.”
He snorts.
“I’m serious.” She smiles. “And I love you.”
He smiles back, the smile that always makes Kiara warm down to her toes. “I love you too.”
“So,” she says, leaning back to buckle up her seatbelt. She kicks her feet up onto the dash. “What now?”
“I don’t know.” He swats her feet down and she reluctantly places them back on the floor. He smiles at her again, this time with a smile that’s full of mischief. “I hear the hotel pool has a pretty good wave machine.”