Archive of Our Own ^beta

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The doctor asks if they have questions, and Kiara is sure she has a million of them, but she can’t think of a single one. JJ is even less capable of rational thought as he sits there with his jaw dropped. Honestly, Kiara’s pretty sure she can’t hear anything that’s being said, and JJ looks like he’s in a trance as she walks him out the front door of the hospital.

She gets him halfway to the car, down the front drive to the parking lot, when he comes to an abrupt stop. She stops with him, not sure what to do, and looks at him. “Is there a reason–?”

He looks at her, though. He looks at her with wide, blue eyes and a credulous expression he can’t hide. “Like, it’s real, right?” he says.

She hesitates, not sure what he means. “The doctor’s report?” she asks. “I mean–”

“The remission,” he says, cutting her off breathlessly. “Like, I didn’t dream that, right. I don’t have a tumor in my brain or shit, right? That was real?”

She crosses back toward him. “If it’s a hallucination, it’s one we’re both having,” she says. She lifts a shoulder and smiles a little. “Or we’ve both died and gone to heaven. And shit. I don't even know if I believe in heaven.”

He lets out a shaky breath and starts to grin.

He starts and can’t stop

“There’s no cancer?” he asks, as if he just needs to be sure.

She doesn’t quite trust herself. “There’s no cancer.”

“And I don’t have to go through chemo again?” he continues.

Her breathing hitches, and she takes his hands in hers. “You don’t have to go through chemo again.”

“I’m going to get better?” he asks. “For real this time?”

“You’re going to get better,” she says, and for the first time in a year, it’s actually the truth.

And he’s ready to burst, then, the whoop of joy exploding from his chest. Other people on the street look at him, but he doesn’t care. She doesn’t care. The flush of excitement covers her, too, and when he reaches down to scoop her up, she’s only too quick to jump into his embrace.

They’re laughing; they’re crying. They’re together; they’re whole.

Because JJ is in remission this time.

JJ is going to get better.

-o-

JJ’s too excited to get behind the wheel, but Kiara feels pretty shaky herself as she puts it into gear. The adrenaline is a son of a bitch, but in the best way possible. Things feel hazy and surreal. Things are hazy and surreal.

The past year has been shaded with tragedy and suffering.

To see the other side of it – Kiara isn’t sure how to comprehend it.

She knows there are caveats, of course. She knows that remission doesn’t always last. She knows JJ will be monitored consistently for years – for the rest of his life – just to be sure. He’s not likely to be considered truly cancer-free for five more years, and there are all sorts of odds and statistics Dr. O’Brien showed them of recurrence rates.

But she can’t bring herself to think about it. Honestly, she can’t think about anything. The rush of her own heart in her ears is a lot. JJ’s in remission, JJ’s in remission.

Next to her, JJ is frantically texting the group chat before his phone just blows up. He answers about three calls in crazy succession, and Kiara hears him screaming with John B, reciting bits and pieces of facts for Pope, and all but crying for Sarah and Cleo. When he hangs up, he’s damn near manic.

Which is – everything. It’s perfect.

All these months she’s watched him wither away and fade. She’s watched him cling to life and all but give up.

To see him like this. To see him alive.

That’s what it’s about, really. That’s what it means when JJ’s in remission.

It means JJ’s alive.

And Kiara never has to let him go again.

-o-

JJ practically runs around the house, working on half-finished projects from last year and kissing Kiara madly. She can’t keep up with him. He’s manic; she’s in shock. All she can do is watch and wonder.

She fields texts from the others. Questions, clarifications, congratulations. Sarah wants to talk. John B wants to plan a party. Cleo is so happy for them, and Pope has questions. Kiara tells them all she’ll talk to them tomorrow.

That’s all tomorrow.

Today is just JJ.

She watches until he wears himself out, which doesn’t actually take long. The adrenaline from being in remission is a lot, but he’s still pretty weak from the last round of chemo and the impact of the pneumonia. Even all this time later, he’s yet to regain his weight, and his color is still poor. Within an hour, he’s exhausted. He collapses with her on the couch, stupid grins and smiles, but only makes it a little longer before he’s getting sleepy. He slumps against her, letting her spoon him a little, his head on her shoulder and chest as he loses the fight with his body.

It’s a fight he’s losing, but she doesn’t fight it at all. In fact, she strokes the side of his face, running her fingers through the freshly growing strands of blonde on his head. He fights it a little bit, though, blinking sleepily up at her.

“If I fall asleep,” he murmurs. “Will it still be real when I wake up?”

“Of course it will be,” she says.

He blinks again, even slower this time as his breathing starts to slow down and she feels the rhythm of his heart start to steady. “I just – this can’t be a dream,” he says. “I can’t have this be a dream.”

“It’s not,” she says, pressing a kiss to his lips as she holds him. “JJ, this is real.”

He smiles faintly, even as his blue eyes get a little distant. “You’ll be here?” he asks.

“I’d be here either way,” she assures him as he finally slips to sleep. “I’ll always be here.”

-o-

JJ sleeps hard, limbs loose and jaw slack as he can’t resist it. He’s learned to let himself go with her, to trust her completely. There’s a complete surrender in him now, something that she doesn’t think is going to go away even though the cancer’s gone.

It’s okay if not everything goes back to normal, she decides. She likes this trust. She understands the full weight of his vulnerability now. It’s a responsibility to carry it for him, but he trusts her. He trusts her completely, and she won’t ever let him down.

This is the kind of trust she thought she’d been talking about all along, but she’d never realized it until this. It’s the kind of trust you only get when you experience the worst together. It’s the kind of love that makes you crazy. It makes you stupid.

It makes you seek out abusive, drunk fathers.

It makes you lie about bone marrow.

Shit, it probably makes you give up a million dollars just to know your kid is okay.

It probably even makes you call in a wilderness camp for your kid when you don’t know what else to do.

Sometimes you do it right and everything turns out.

Sometimes you do it wrong.

Kiara’s not sure how she’s managed to do this right. Honestly, she’s still not sure she has. JJ sleeping like this, in her arms, makes her doubt. Not about saving his life – but not telling him. She could tell him now. She could confess everything.

He’d probably forgive her. In the rush of his remission, he’d probably forgive anything. It’s JJ: he’s infinitely good at forgiveness.

But she’s not sorry. She’s just not sorry. She’s not sorry for doing any of it, and she’s not sorry for keeping the secret Luke has asked her to keep. JJ’s the one in remission, but it feels like a reprieve for all of them.

Like the end of a game of hide and seek across the marsh, olly, olly, oxen free.

A truce – another etch-a-sketch.

She lets her fingers linger on JJ’s face, trailing across his scalp longer still. It feels good to sit here, to feel his warmth, to hold his weight. She never wants to let him go, honestly. He asked her to be there when he woke; she needs to be here as much as he needs her to be here, even if he’s not well enough to see it yet.

She pulls out her phone, though, thumbing through the messages. She smiles at the ongoing Pogue celebration and hesitates as she comes across the last, unanswered text from her mother.

She hesitates and considers putting the phone away. That’s been her policy for months now, ever since their blowup at Christmas over six months ago.

But remission. Clean slates.

She types the message with one hand, refusing to let go of JJ with the other.

Just thought you might want to know JJ’s officially in remission.

She sends it, heart fluttering as it goes. She only has to wait a minute before her mother is typing out a reply.

Best news ever! So happy for you both! Give him a kiss for me!

She grins, eyes starting to water. She brushes through JJ’s wisps of hair again and he makes a little sound in his sleep. She kisses him and he settles.

It is kind of the best news ever.

-o-

When Kiara wakes up the next morning, she feels like she’s been sleeping forever. When she rolls over, JJ’s already awake. He’s looking at her. Eyes bright and face turned to her.

She scrunches up her forehead. “How long have you been up?”

JJ shrugs. “Long enough.”

“And you’re just – laying there?” she says, blinking away the heaviness of her sleep.

“I couldn’t go back to sleep,” he says, and he slips an arm around her.

She lets herself snuggle against him. “You need rest.”

He burrows next to her. “I don’t need sleep.”

“You’re recovering–” she says without thinking about it.

He chuckles and nips at her ear. “No, I’m living.”

It makes her giggle, and she kisses him back. “What do you want to do today?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “We could do anything, right?”

She nods, looking at him with wonder. “Anything.”

For 18 months, the world had gotten so small for JJ.

And now, just like that, it’s blown wide open again.

“So?” she asks. “Where should we start?”

“I don’t have a clue,” he admits.

She huffs in breathless amusement. The relief between them is palpable.

The idea that this is a new day

This is a new cancer-free day.

They don’t have to think about treatments and medications. They don’t have to think about cancer markers and blood tests. They can just think about the day.

They can just think about living.

“Well, we could start with breakfast,” she says.

He nods as he considers that. “I could do breakfast.”

-o-

They’ve been through a lot, her and JJ. Way more than any pair of 19 year olds should. It’s forced them to grow up and to grow up fast. She legally emancipated herself from her parents in a court of law, but cancer taught her the hard lessons about being an adult. Lessons she and JJ would never forget, even if they wanted to.

But sometimes they’re still just kids.

Or maybe now that JJ is in remission, they just get the chance to remember how young they are. 19 can seem painfully old when you’re fighting for your life.

When you’ve been given a lifetime?

It’s wonderfully, beautifully, unabashedly young.

In the kitchen, Kiara hasn’t exactly been playing happy homemaker. She’d done what was necessary since JJ couldn’t, and the simple truth was she had no intention of being a good little housewife. JJ had no intention of it, either. When he bought his childhood home, he’d taken on almost all the upkeep – including the vacuuming, sweeping, cooking, and cleaning. For him, it’d been about taking ownership. For her, it’d meant not having to play into a 1950s gender role she despised.

All that considered, it’s probably no surprise that the kitchen isn’t looking great. Dishes are sort of done, and the cupboards are kind of stocked. Doing the dishes just hadn’t been that important while JJ was dying. Cooking hadn’t meant shit when JJ couldn’t keep it down.

In truth, she’s a little embarrassed by the state of it, but JJ doesn’t seem to notice. He busies himself picking things up, putting away pots and pans and starting a load in the dishwasher. By the time he’s done, he grins at her. “What are you hungry for?”

She blinks back at him, feeling dumb. She’s the one who went and suggested breakfast, and she has no idea. She doesn’t even know what’s in the fridge right now. She feels like the last year and a half were a dream and she’s just now waking up.

And she has no idea what’s going on.

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “You’re the one we’re celebrating. What do you want?”

JJ grins a little, lopsided and shit-eating. “Everything,” he declares. “Screw it all, Kie. I want everything.”

-o-

So, they make everything.

Every breakfast item they can find in the house, they make. Bacon sizzles in the skillet, found somewhere buried in the back of the deep freeze. There are still some good eggs, so they scramble them to perfection, and Kiara makes a pile of toast and frozen waffles. They dig out syrup and jelly, peanut butter and Nutella. JJ starts a fresh pot of coffee and Kiara checks the date on the orange juice.

It’s more than they could possibly eat, but it doesn’t matter. The toast is burned; the eggs are runny. The coffee pot needs to be cleaned, and when JJ makes pancakes on top of everything, the batter splatters everywhere.

The kitchen is a mess. Kiara’s stomach hurts from the sheer amount of food and the way JJ has made her laugh. His face is bright and happy and they eat until they’re just not hungry.

It’s a novelty, in the end.

Being satisfied.

JJ laughs and kisses her as he does the dishes, and all Kiara can think is that she could get used to this.

-o-

They’ve cooked their way through whatever inventory they have in the kitchen, and somehow they’ve dirtied every pot, pan, and bowl in the house. It’s a mess, well and truly, and Kiara doesn’t care.

Because JJ eats. And JJ laughs and JJ smiles.

She’ll do dishes all day, all week, for the rest of her life.

For this.

Always for this.

-o-

They’re halfway through the dishes – halfway through shoving them in the dishwasher, at least, any which way they can – when there’s a knock at the door. Kiara is grateful for something to save her from the dishes, and JJ is so pumped up on adrenaline – and now sugar and caffeine – that he bounds to the front door with the energy of a damn golden retriever.

She wonders briefly who it is, but she shouldn’t. It’s obviously going to be John B – and he’s got Sarah in tow.

She hears Sarah before she sees her – the high pitch squeal – and JJ’s subsequent grunt of, “Shit, careful! If I’m recovering, you don’t want to kill me now!”

Kiara gets to the porch in time to see Sarah pull away, wiping the tears from her face while John B takes a turn, beaming proudly as he draws JJ in and slaps him upside the back.

“I knew you’d kick cancer’s ass,” John B says, pulling away and shaking JJ by the shoulders. “I told you!”

JJ laughs, happily being manhandled by his best friend. “I’m not sure I kicked its ass as much as it kicked mine.”

“But you’re still standing,” John B reminds him. “And the cancer is gone.”

Sarah comes over to her now, noticing her for the first time. “Congratulations!” she says, hugging Kiara with more tears. “I mean, I”m not sure that’s the right word, but I don’t care! I’m so happy for you both!”

Kiara hugs her as best she can, feeling flush with the emotion. “It’s the best news possible,” she reports, and Sarah pulls away again, still wiping her eyes.

John B looks keen to know more, though. “What did the blood tests say?”

“Zero signs of the cancer,” Kiara says.

“All the other scans were clean, too,” JJ says. “They did all sorts of shit. Put me in all sorts of machines.”

“The cancer markers are gone, like they’ve never been there,” Kiara says, remembering the phrasing as best she can. The specifics probably don’t matter, not when the bottom line is that JJ’s in remission. “And the tests all show that the bone marrow transplant is doing exactly what it needs to do.”

Luke’s bone marrow.

Still doing its part to save JJ’s life.

Today – and hopefully for years to come.

JJ grins. “They’ll keep checking me often,” he says. “Odds of recurrence and shit like that.”

“Nah, man,” John B says, and he turns fully to JJ again, slapping him on the arm. “The odds don’t mean shit to you.”

JJ blushes, even while he beams. “I couldn’t have done it alone – not any of it,” he says. “I’m here because you guys.”

He looks at John B and Sarah and Kiara.

“All of you,” he says, and the emotion is starting to choke him now. The overwhelming joy to the overwhelming gratitude – it’s all just overwhelming. “I mean, a month ago I was basically dead. And here I am.”

Here he is.

It twists in Kiara’s gut so hard – the fear, the deception, the relief, the hope – that she thinks she might cry, too.

But John B is brash enough for all of them. “Hell, yeah!” he says, clapping his hands. “Here you are!”

Sarah squeals again, drawing them all into a hug that ends with them all crying, gross and excessive and just right. This time, when they pull away, everyone is sniffling and grinning sheepishly, and John B snorts loudly.

“So, the real reason we’re here is to invite you guys over,” he says, proclaiming it like a decree.

“But you’re already here,” JJ says, clearly confused.

“No, tomorrow!” Sarah interjects. “We’re having a party.”

“Not a party,” John B says. “The party. The big party. The JJ’s in Remission Party.”

“Pope and Cleo are already coming,” Sarah says. “We’ll keep it simple with burgers and hot dogs–”

“And beer,” John B says. “If you want to break out the stash of blunts from Christmas–”

“It’ll be great!” Sarah says, and she takes Kie by the arm in her excitement. “Just like old times!”

JJ has never needed an excuse to party, but somehow the extra attention makes him shy. He blushes immediately, shaking his head reflectively. “That’s really not necessary–”

“Bullshit,” John B says. “Like you said, a month ago, you were nearly dead. You’re alive now. That’s something to celebrate.”

Sarah nods, eager and earnest as she detaches from Kiara and takes JJ by the arm. “It is 100% necessary, and we are doing it,” she says, and she looks at JJ balefully with her brown eyes big and pleading. “We love you, Jayj. Let us do this.”

John B takes him by the other arm until JJ looks at him, too. Flanked by the two of them, Kiara knows that JJ can’t hold out much longer.

He can’t hold out at all.

“Okay, okay,” he says with a sigh as he utterly relents. “I guess we can party tomorrow night. Right, Kie?”

She’s not sure if he’s actually asking or hoping she’ll offer him some kind of reprieve. She laughs, because he’s sure as hell not going to find it from her.

The idea of celebrating JJ?

Sounds absolutely perfect to her.

-o-

The plans are easy to make, mostly because there’s nothing to plan. A bonfire at the Chateau is such old hat to them that it’s silly, and beyond JJ’s stash of weed, Sarah refuses any other supplies from them.

“The party is for you,” she reminds them, as if this is totally obvious.

“But–” JJ protests, and not for the first time.

Sarah hasn’t entertained a single protest. “Nope, we’ve got it,” she says. “You just bring you. Your cancer-free self. That’s all.”

JJ rolls his eyes, but knows better than to argue at this point.

Sarah and John B hang out most of the morning. At lunch, Sarah insists on ordering DoorDash and badgers JJ until he requests something special. They stay and eat, and when Sarah sees the mess that is their kitchen, she immediately gets to work, and Kiara is so embarrassed that she stays and helps. JJ is going to help, too, but Sarah is so hyped up on feel-good that she declines, shooing JJ out of the kitchen without any further ado.

“Is she okay?” Kiara hears JJ ask from the living room.

John B chuckles. “It’s a natural high – I swear.”

Kiara glances over to Sarah, who is filling the sink with water and an excess of bubbles. Seriously, it’s an unsettling number of bubbles.

“It’s just – a lot,” JJ says, and he’s quieter now. “I mean, I should be thanking all of you–”

“You already have,” John B reminds him.

“But the reason I’m here–”

Kiara closes her eyes and feels herself go very, very still. She still remembers making the choice to put JJ on life support. She still remembers the lengths she went to to secure Luke’s bone marrow.

She knows the reason JJ is here.

She knows.

“Is because you didn’t quit,” John B says, and Kiara opens her eyes again. The tension in her chest releases and she exhales, because John B knows the right thing to say. “It was all going against you, but you didn’t quit, bro. That’s why you’re here.”

There’s so much to it, Kiara knows. They all put so much into it, keeping JJ alive.

But John B is right.

Even if she knows JJ can’t see it that way. “But, B,” he says, voice choking a little. “I did – I did quit. I–”

Kiara’s breath catches again, and she looks at the plate she’s supposed to be drying. She sets it down dumbly on the counter, too numb to do anything else while Sarah bustles at the sink.

“JJ, did your heart stop?”

“No–”

“Are you still breathing?”

“Yes–”

“Are you in remission or not?”

“Yes,” JJ says, and his voice sounds hot and strained. “But–”

“But nothing, man,” John B says. “You did it. Maybe you didn’t do it alone, but you did it.”

JJ is quiet, and whatever his reply may be, Kiara doesn’t hear it.

“Like,” Sarah says, opening a cabinet. “Do you have dish towels? You surely have dish towels–”

“What?” Kiara asks, trying to get herself back together.

“Here they are!” Sarah croons, producing one for herself. She throws a fresh one at Kiara. “Come on! We’ll get this done in no time!”

That’s fine; it’s fine.

They can do the dishes; they can clean the house. They can plan the party. They can do anything; they can do everything.

Because JJ’s in remission.

-o-

Sometime in the early afternoon, Sarah finally convinces John B they do need to go home. She starts talking about buying food and cleaning the house, and John B’s eyes immediately glaze over and he seems keen to agree before he becomes implicated in the process more than he already is.

The boy is whipped, but he’s not a total idiot. Kiara knows Sarah well enough to know that John B doesn’t stand a chance. Pleading ignorance is often his best option, and the sooner he gets away from her in the planning stages, the less work he’ll have to do.

Kiara would call him on his shit, but she knows Sarah will prefer it that way, too. Sarah’s kind-hearted and sweet, but she doesn’t take shit. She knows what she wants.

And it’s funny, when Kiara thinks about it. John B and Sarah have been together since they were 16. It’s been years. While Kiara has been fighting to keep JJ alive, Sarah and John B have been settling down. Treasure hunts, long lost fathers, infidelity, family drama – they’ve put it behind them.

They’re standing on the other side.

Sometimes she feels like she missed it. Sometimes she feels like she’s missed a lot of things. Like they spent the last 18 months in limbo while the rest of the world went on without them. She doesn’t resent it – not at all.

She’s just – coming in at a loss.

Like playing catch up.

Like all her friends grew up without her, and now here she is. Not sure where she fits in.

If it’s a lot for her to deal with, it’s more for JJ.

When Sarah and John B finally get out the door, Kiara waves at them from the front porch and watches as they pull out of the drive. Back inside, she’s surprised JJ is still sitting there on the couch. His expression is blank.

Kiara frowns a little. “You okay?”

He looks up at her. “Yeah,” he says, like he can’t quite believe it. “I mean, I am okay, right?”

She nods, not sure what to say.

He looks around and scoffs lightly. He’s smiling. “I know nothing is really different. That this is all the same. But it just – looks so different. It feels so different,” he says, shaking his head. He wets his lips and looks at her again. “It’s like I’m seeing it all for the first time. My friends. This house. You.”

She sits next to him. It's so easy. It’s so real. It’s so everything she can’t explain and can’t deny. “It’s not different,” she says. She turns her eyes to him. Only him. “But you are.”

Because they’ve been fighting to save JJ’s life is the thing. As if they could hold onto it, the way things were, the way they thought things should be.

But it’s not that simple. JJ has survived, yes. But that 18-year-old he was when this started never made it out. That future they thought they wanted – the one they’d intended to build when she moved in with him – is nothing but a distant memory.

The thing is: it’s not bad. It’s not bad at all. In fact, it might be great. It might be better.

That’s a hard truth, one that scares her. That they might not have been this happy unless they’d been that sad. That they’d never be this hopeful unless they’d faced the darkness.

JJ’s cancer isn’t a blessing.

But she can’t pretend like it hasn’t yielded something good.

She struggles with that; she does.

JJ, though, has no idea how to face it.

When he looks at her, there is something desperate in his face. When he’d entrusted her to make his medical decisions for him, it had been a flippant sort of choice. He hadn’t thought about it; he hadn’t felt it.

He’s thought about it now. He feels it.

And the choice matters.

He’s still trusting her, completely. Mind, body, and soul.

When he looks at her – the way he looks at her – Kiara feels like she can’t breathe.

“Kie,” he says, small and almost helpless. “It doesn’t feel real. None of it feels real.”

“I know,” she says. She shrugs, reaching up to brush his hair back lightly from his forehead with a gentle touch. “But it is.”

He doesn’t argue. “So, what the hell am I supposed to do with it? What am I supposed to do?”

“Anything,” she returns. “That’s the point. You can do anything you want.”

“But I haven’t wanted to do anything but live in 18 months,” he says.

“Well,” she says, matter of fact. She smiles. “There you go.”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“You live,” she tells him plainly. Because that’s what it’s all about, in the end. “Now you get to live.”

-o-

So that’s what they do.

They live.

Living is simpler than she used to think. It’s not grand gestures and dramatic stands. It’s not even treasure hunts and blowouts with her parents,

It’s the little things. The mundane things. The things you take for granted.

Making the bed. Sweeping the porch. Knocking cobwebs from the corners.

That’s what they do that day.

JJ and Kiara live.

-o-

After a while, JJ just ends up cleaning the house. It’s a bit of a task, to be honest. Between the two of them, most people are surprised to learn JJ’s the housekeeper. Kiara thinks it’s because he’s trying so hard not to be his dad, and putting things in their proper place helps him feel like that’s something he has control over.

As for herself, there’s not much excuse. Except she’s always lived under her parents roof, and she so resented being told to clean her room that now that no one is there to order her around, she just doesn’t give a shit.

And then, when JJ had been sick, cleaning had just not been a priority. Her efforts had been haphazard at the very least. That’s the nicest way to put it.

So, things are a bit of a mess. JJ doesn’t say shit about it; he just gets to work putting things away. He cleans up some trash – a task she’s sure he’s far too familiar with, given his history – and then he breaks out a duster she didn’t even know they had. Somehow, he unearths a vacuum from one of the closets, and Kiara tries not to think about the fact that the carpets haven’t been touched in 18 months.

He works until he’s exhausted, until she thinks he might fall over. She gets a little concerned, if she’s being honest, until she finally – gently – suggests he take a break.

“I took, like, the longest break ever,” he says, brow furrowed. The exertion has made his cheeks flush, and there’s a line of perspiration on his forehead.

“It was cancer – not a break,” she reminds him.

“But you had to do all of this,” he says, gesturing helplessly at the house around him. “Like, I didn’t do shit.”

It’s true, to some extent. JJ hadn’t helped out around the house. He hadn’t worked, he hadn’t cooked.

But she shakes her head. “JJ, you were surviving,” she says. “That’s all I needed you to do.”

The idea of it doesn’t assuage his doubt, though. “So you could – what, wait on me? Become a housewife? Shit, Kie, that’s not you.”

She doesn’t know how to explain it, exactly. Something that’s right and wrong all at once.

It flusters him more, the emotion getting the better of him. “Kie, I never wanted you to – to give up yourself for me.”

“It’s not giving anything up,” she shoots back, and her face is flushing now. “I love you. You’re my boyfriend. We’re building a life together. Where else would I be?”

His breath hitches, and she watches him struggle with it. For as far as he’s come, part of him is still the same, damaged teenager who had stolen 25k or driven his bike off an overpass. There’s still something inside of him that would give himself up in a second for his friends – his family – because he’s still not quite able to grasp that he’s worth it.

But she sees it as he catches himself. As he recognizes what he’s doing and why he can’t do it. It’s a struggle for him to fight it back, but he does. He takes another breath, swallows hard, and does.

“I guess,” he says, and the concession there sounds small but she knows how big it is. For as hard as JJ worked to overcome cancer, beating the demons of his childhood has been even harder for him sometimes. When he continues, his voice is measured and careful. “I just wanted you to live your life. But instead, I made your life small. I made you into someone you’re not..”

He’s so vulnerable about it that she doesn’t have any heart to reprimand him or lecture him. This isn’t just about seeing himself as unworthy. He loves her as much as she loves him. Some of his sacrifice is unhealthy, but not all of it.

She crosses to him and hesitates. Then, she takes the vacuum from him, and his fingers go lax as she puts it aside. “We both just took a hiatus,” she says. “We both just did what we needed to to survive. And now? We get to live. Together.”

“But if I–” he starts, and he falters. He has to swallow, and suddenly he’s blinking back tears. “If you needed to–”

If he hadn’t survived.

If she had needed to move on without him.

The things they don’t say. The things they know. The doctor can call it remission, but the what-ifs are still there, haunting everything they do and everything they are.

“But I didn’t,” she says, because the what-ifs could paralyze her. They could hold her back; they will. She won’t do that to herself – she won’t do it for him. “I didn’t.”

Because he’s here. He’s here and he’s healthy.

He nods at her because he gets it, too. “You didn’t,” he agrees quietly.

“Come on,” she says, taking him by the hand. “I think we need some air.”

He lets her pull him to his feet, and he follows her out of the room.

-o-

They end up taking a walk, moving down the marsh and snaking a path along the water. It’s not like it’s new to them; it’s not like they haven’t walked it before. They’ve both grown up on this island; they know it backward and forward. The marshy stretch near JJ’s house in the Cut isn’t the prettiest part of the island – but maybe it is.

It’s the same as it’s always been.

But they’re different.

As she walks the familiar path, her hand is in JJ’s. They look out across the water, wind along the uneven shoreline, and it’s a rediscovery. So much of their early relationship had been based in adventure. There had been drama and high stakes.

And now it’s just this. It’s just the two of them. They don’t need adventure. They don’t need to fight for anything. They can just be.

They can just live.

“I’ve grown up here all my life,” JJ tells her as the sun starts to set behind them.

“It’s practically your backyard,” Kiara agrees with a smile.

“I don’t know why I didn’t see it before,” he says.

She looks at him, just to find he’s already looking at her. “What do you mean?”

“How beautiful it is,” he says. And he comes to a stop, shaking his head as he looks at her. “Shit, Kie. It’s so, so beautiful.”

“Yeah,” she says, squeezing his hand, eyes locked on his. “Yeah, it is.”

-o-

It’s dark when they get back, and JJ seems tired. Not bad tired – not cancer tired – but tired tired. The way you feel after a day of life.

The kind of tired that gets better after a good night’s sleep.

And the sleep is good.

Life is good.

Everything is good.

-o-

The next day is more of the same. They cook; JJ cleans. He starts in on the yard work, getting things back into order. Kiara has some down time to pay some bills. Her parents have texted her, asking her what’s going on, but she ignores it.

Instead she answers multiple texts from Sarah confirming the time and JJ’s favorite beer and a few other pointless inquiries that surely John B has already told her and she just doesn’t trust. She’s pretty sure Sarah doesn’t know what a small, informal gathering is supposed to be, but it’s fine. JJ’s in remission, so everything is fine.

She and JJ eat lunch together, and he talks to Cleo for a bit, checking in on the business.

“I just – I can come back,” he offers. “I mean, I have no excuse, right?”

She can hear Cleo scoff over the line. “You just found out you’re in remission,” she says. “There’s no rush.”

JJ wets his lips, looking a little distressed. “I just – I don’t know how to – whatever. Like, start doing shit again?”

“You do what feels right,” Cleo says. “We can talk about it tonight, yeah? The party?”

JJ nods, but it's a nervous, uncertain gesture. He’s biting his lower lip but trying to smile even though Cleo can’t see him. “Yeah,” he says, and he seems to rally himself. “Yeah, sure.”

But when he ends the call, Kiara knows better. She looks at him long and hard. “There’s no rush, you know,” she says. He glances at her, almost bewildered. “With work.”

He flinches a bit now. “But I’ve been gone so long.”

She shrugs. “Yeah,” she says. “But we have a lifetime.”

The idea of it still seems foreign to say.

And even more surreal for him to understand.

“Yeah,” he says, and he laughs a little. “Guess I'm still wrapping my head around that one.”

“Sure,” she says. “But for once it’s a good problem to have, right?”

His face softens as he grins. “Absolutely.”

-o-

The rest of the day is quiet, and it’s not that they’re nervous.

But it’s just that they’re anxious.

Celebrating it makes it real.

It’s a celebration to end cancer.

And to start the rest of their lives.

Kiara looks at JJ, trying to buck himself up.

She’s ready, she decides.

She takes him by the hand and leads him out the door.

They’re both ready.

-o-

It’s a familiar scene. A crackling bonfire with all their friends in the yard of the Chateau. The grill is on and the fairy lights are lit, The cover has been removed from the hot tub, and there’s a cooler for beer on the porch.

And it’s easy. To settle in. To start joking. To crack open a beer and light a joint. They laugh and they talk, and it’s just like when they were in high school.

Somehow, though, it’s different, too. Kiara feels like she’s living it for the first time all over again. As if they didn’t just survive. They’ve been reborn.

So it’s all new. It’s different and novel and good.

John B grills the hot dogs and Sarah gets out the marshmallows. JJ chugs a beer and Pope whoops while Cleo laughs.

It’s so, so good.

-o-

They eat all the food, and use the rest of the marshmallows by throwing them at each other amid fits of giggles. Sarah starts up the hot tub, and they take turns inside, and JJ shows them all again the wonders of disco mode just for shits and giggles.

They laugh until their guts hurt, and they soak until they’re pruny, and JJ calls them all together and takes a breath.

“Like, I don’t know how to do this,” he says, looking at each of them. His eyes linger the longest on Kie, and he chews the inside of his lip as he shrugs. “But I just wanted – I needed – to say thank you.”

“We don’t need an excuse to party,” John B reminds him glibly, his words just slightly slurred from the beer.

JJ grins as they all laugh. “For that, yeah – and just – all the rest,” he says. “I know how much you guys put on hold for me. Like, all of you. You turned your lives upside down for me, and I know it–”

“JJ, it was nothing,” Sarah says softly.

“Yeah, man,” Pope says. “Nothing else we’d be doing.”

JJ nods, fast and hard, as he swallows. “I know,” he says, and his voice is strained now. “But you still did it. Cleo, you took over my business and ran it better than I ever could. Pope, you nearly missed a whole semester of school for me.”

“You got him to stay back with me,” Cleo points out with a coy smile. “I think it’s a fair trade.”

JJ shakes his head, eyes looking wet now. “And Sarah – shit, did you spend all your fortune buying me stuff? I mean. You always had something to make me smile, make me forget.”

She grins, shrugging. “I like shopping. And when it was for you, John B couldn’t get pissed.”

They laugh again, and JJ half catches himself. His whole expression is wavering now as he tries to steady himself. “John B. Shit, John B. I have no idea why you still put up with me after all these years, but you were there for me, man. When I didn’t know what I needed, you knew what I needed, and you made sure it got done. I would have blown everything up if not for you.”

“I know,” John B says. He wrinkles his nose. “We have been best friends since the third grade. So I think I know.”

JJ wants to say more – needs to say more – but his eyes land on Kiara.

They stay there, and she can practically feel the way his heart stutters, the way his breath catches. She feels it because it’s happening to her, too.

“Kie,” he says, and his voice seems to give out. He seems to run out of words. He comes to the end of himself and finds out they’re there to catch him and it’s okay.

It’s better than okay.

It’s amazing.

“I know this isn’t what you thought we’d have together,” he says, voice hoarse as he fights back the tears. “And I’ll never be able to make it up to you, what you did for me. All of it. I love you.”

He breaks off, choking on the sob he just can’t stop. He looks from Kiara to the rest of them, shaking his head.

“I love all of you,” he says, and there’s no way to hold it back now.

And it’s not the alcohol, though they have plenty of that. It’s not the weed, even though they have plenty of that, too.

It’s just – everything. It’s all of them, here and together. It’s all of them, happy, healthy, and whole.

It’s that. It’s more than that.

It just is.

For the first time since JJ was first diagnosed with cancer, everything is okay.

That’s probably why they’re all a complete mess. Kiara’s chest is tight from the emotion, and the whole lot of them is ready on the verge of tears. It’s JJ who breaks first, opening his mouth to continue his thanks when the words don’t come and the tears come instead.

“Shit,” he says. He rubs at his eyes as the tears start to fall, but the more he rubs, the faster they seem to come. He inhales sharply and tries to get himself together, but it just doesn’t work. “I’m sorry – I just–”

The explanation gets lost, though, in the next sob. He can’t hold them back, large and gulping, racking his body so much that he nearly keels over. As the emotions crash over him with uncontrollable power, John B is quick to intervene. He steps up to JJ and catches him as he falls. JJ melts into him, burying his head into John B’s shoulder.

His sobs are hard enough to shake them both, and Pope is quick to join them. Sarah and Cleo are not far behind, and it’s only when Kiara realizes that she’s sobbing, too, that she joins them.

Pressed together, it’s hard to tell where one of them ends and the other begins. There’s no separating them; there’s no distinguishing. Everyone is crying and everyone is laughing and everyone is breathing.

Everyone is living.

Because JJ’s the one in remission.

But they’re all coming back to life in their own ways.

-o-

There’s no telling how long they stay like that. It doesn’t matter, really. They stay close even when they pull apart, and it’s a mess of tears and snot until someone starts laughing. They laugh until they can’t stop, until they crash to the floor of the porch and break out the blunts. JJ still has most of his stash from Christmas, so there’s plenty to go around.

But they’re not as young as they used to be. And they have lives and jobs and they tap out sooner than they used to. Kiara is just a little buzzed, but JJ admits to being extremely sober so he takes the keys to drive home while Pope gently prods Cleo into their car to do the same. Sarah and John B are the most wasted, but they have nowhere to go, so they lean lazily on one another and giggle while they send everyone off.

“I can help clean up,” she offers, nodding at the mess in the yard.

Sarah giggles. “I’ll just sell the house.”

“You will not,” John B says. But he hesitates as he looks at it, too. “We could just burn it all.”

“Yeah, that’s a no,” JJ says with a chuckle. He’s exhausted, but still upright as he gets the bucket of water they keep on hand for emergencies. He splashes it on the bonfire, and it sizzles to a smoky halt. “This place already burned down once.”

“In my defense,” John B says, lifting a finger. “That was arson.”

“In my defense,” Sarah says. “That really was arson.”

Kiara can’t help but laugh; it sounds like the funniest shit ever.

JJ just rolls his eyes, putting the bucket down and watching the embers to make sure they’re out and safe.

“You two sure you’re okay?” JJ asks.

John B scrunches his forehead up. “Isn’t that my line?”

JJ laughs, and it’s a relieved sort of sound. Genuine and real and so, so good. “Well, I’m better now, remember?” he says.

“Still recovering, J,” John B tells him with a serious nod. “So if you need something–”

“I’ll know who to call,” he says. Then, he shrugs. “Tomorrow. When you’re not high.”

John B nods again in the most sober agreement he can muster while high as a kite. “I’m so glad, man. I’m so, so happy.”

JJ grins back, glancing at Sarah and then Kiara. She reaches out and takes his hand because it doesn’t get old. She’s not sure it ever will. He looks back at John B. “Honestly, man, I wasn’t sure I’d make it.”

John B reaches out and hugs him, sloppy as he nearly falls over and causes JJ to stumble back with his weight. “I always knew you would,” he says, face buried in JJ’s neck. “Always.”

It’s easy to see that JJ is grateful. But it takes a little nuance to see just what JJ is grateful for. The hours at his side. The availability at the drop of a hat. Then phone calls and texts, the shaved heads and Amazon gifts. Yes, all of those things.

But it’s the belief.

The steadfast belief.

The unwavering faith in JJ.

That’s what makes the difference.

That’s the debt JJ will carry and never pay off.

Because Luke’s bone revived his body.

His friends preserved his spirit.

No doubt, JJ needs both.

“Thank you,” JJ says again, because it’s all he can say as he wraps John B up in another hug and buries his face in his best friend’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

John B hugs him back, just as strong, just as sure. “I’d say any time,” he quips as he pulls back.

JJ snorts a wet laugh.

“But we’re done with cancer, bro,” John B says, with a confidence JJ can’t doubt. “We’re done.”

-o-

JJ finally detaches himself from John B and makes sure he and Sarah are safely inside before he gets Kie into the car. She dozes a little, happy and high, on the way back, and she’s smiling stupidly when he parks in front of the house.

She’s humming as he helps her out of the car. The air is sobering, and she comes back to her senses a little. Enough.

He holds her by the arm as they scale the steps to the house, and he opens the doors for her, guiding her carefully through the kitchen and through the living room.

“Here you go,” he says, setting her down on the bed. He kneels down, pulling off her shoes. When he looks up at her, he shrugs. “You can just leave your clothes on.”

He gets up, moving to lay her down, and he’s so steady, so sure, so real, that she lets him. The touch of his fingers on her skin sends a shiver down her spine, and shit. She’s high.

And she’s happy.

She’s also so, so in love with this boy.

This man.

He moves to leave her – to let her rest – but she reaches out and grabs him. He stills in her hold, turning back to her with large, questioning eyes. “You okay?”

She looks at him. She looks at every inch of him, from the peach fuzz of his blonde hair to the depth of his blue eyes. She’s high and she’s in love and she’s happy.

Tonight is a night of celebration.

A celebration of life.

Because JJ’s alive.

And as it turns out, so is Kiara.

He hesitates as he reads her face. She doesn’t have to say it; she sees the way his own body shudders. He knows.

“You’re high, Kie,” he says, but the words sound feeble. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Consent–”

“I’m not that high,” she says. “And you gave me your life. You trusted me with every part of you. I do the same.”

His breathing stutters.

She pulls him back to her, and he doesn’t resist as she sits him down on the bed. “I trust you with every part of me.”

There’s no way JJ has the willpower to say no to her, not now. He’s hopeless with her, and she sees him give in almost without a fight. When she kisses him, he kisses her back, and she feels the shudder that moves through his body as he moans into her mouth.

She’s on him now, straddling his waist as she slips her hands under his shirt and teases his waistline. He makes a small sound in his throat and bucks up a little. She slips off his shirt with no resistance, and when she pushes him back, he goes to his back immediately as she climbs on top.

Beneath her, his eyes are wide and desperate, and he looks up in hunger as she finishes stripping him. When she slips out of her own clothes, he looks half gone already, and Kiara doesn’t waste any time.

She kisses him, lips hard against his skin, and he cries out a little. He pushes back, a little stronger now, and Kira inhales sharply. When she looks back at him, she still sees the skinny outline of his ribs, the wisps of his hair. He’s still recovering.

She makes herself stop.

Just long enough to ask. “What about you? Are you sure?”

He exhales into her, almost shaking his desperation. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m sure.”

-o-

It’s been too long, and it’s hard for both of them to slow down. Afterward, she rests against him, hair splayed across his chest as she listens to the pounding of his heart.

Alive, alive, alive.

He closes his eyes, kissing her again.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too,” she breathes back, feeling her heart in rhythm with his.

And they both sleep hard that night.

-o-

JJ is up with the sun, bright and early and ready. He’s grinning at her when she stirs, and he rolls over onto his stomach, watching until she’s awake.

“Is this a thing now?” she asks, yawning sleepily as she rubs her eyes awake. “You watching me sleep?”

“I’m not watching you sleep,” he says. “I’m waiting for you to wake up.”

She smacks her lips together, flopping on her side toward him. “Same thing.”

He shakes his head. “It’s different,” he insists. “Watching you sleep is just killing time. Waiting for you to wake up is anticipation. It’s a new freakin’ day.”

Not just a new day.

A new cancer-free day.

Another of many.

Now, she’s smiling too, snuggling closer to him as she looks up into his face. “What do you want to do, then?”

“We keep asking that, and I still have no idea,” he admits. “Like, not a clue. For so long, it’s just been treatment, you know. Survival.”

She has to smile wider then. “But that’s over now,” she reminds him, as if it’s necessary. Maybe she just likes to say it. She does. “This is what you survived for.”

“I know – I just,” he starts and doesn’t know how to finish. “I think I forgot how to live.”

That’s okay. Kiara thinks she’s forgotten how to be. “Well, I guess you’ll learn,” she says. She shrugs a little, letting herself smile. “Looks like we have the time.”

This makes him smile, too. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess we do.”

-o-

It’s funny, when you’re dying. How many things are on hold. All the what ifs and maybe. They’ve put things off to another day, a better day, a day they can count on.

Today.

They’ve put it off until today.

JJ wanders around the house, wide eyed and full of wonder. He’s been trapped here for over a year now — save for his protracted hospital stay — but somehow he looks at everything like he’s just come back. Like he’s back from a trip and taking stock.

He inspects the completed projects, going over the details, and he makes a list of the unfinished tasks before spending time in the shed going over the supplies in stock and what they need to finish. The list ends up longer than Kiara expects, but she’s not really surprised. Her own efforts had been haphazard at best. She suspects he needs new supplies for several tasks that she’s sure she’s done incorrectly, but he says nothing about it, not even as she helps him unearth some of the supplies she’s stashed in the closet.

When he finally takes stock, it’s hard to tell if he’s amused or pleased.

“How the hell did you install trim without a saw?” he asks.

“There was a handsaw,” she says, and she shrugs. . “I also am pretty sure I did all of it wrong.”

He chuckles, leaning over to inspect her work with a squint. “It’s not exactly an example of precision,” he says. “But it looks as good as my dad used to do.”

“When he was sober?” she asks.

JJ arches his eyebrows at her. “You assume he did house repairs while sober.”

She winces, thinking of Luke and his sobriety now. He’d be the first to agree with JJ, though, and there’s no defense to give. “You can take it out,” she says. “I’ll help you.”

He looks up at her like she’s spoken some kind of blasphemy. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you can do it better,” she says. “I was just desperate to keep busy. I thought if I kept things going–”

She can’t quite finish.

JJ draws himself up a little and looks at her knowingly. “Then you could keep me going,” he says. “I knew.”

She blushes furiously, though she’s not sure why. “It’s silly.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head without pretense. “It means that you love me.”

She goes silent now, not able to contradict him but not able to confirm him either.

He wets his lips. “I still don’t know why sometimes.”

She’s quick to shake her head now. “No, you don’t get to say that.”

“But Kie–”

“No,” she says, and she’s the one insisting now. “I saved your life because I couldn’t live without you, plain and simple.”

They’ve done this before. They have talked this one in circles, and probably will continue to do so until they both get it. Love is consuming and sacrificial. They’ll always be laying themselves down for one another. Always.

He takes her hands, he takes her. “I get it,” he says, and he kisses her. She kisses him back, and she’s not about to let him go. He pulls back, and murmurs against her lips. “So the trim stays. Every piece of it.”

“Okay,” she says, pressing herself up into him, and pulling him back down, deeper, harder, insistent. “The trim stays.”

-o-

Look, Kiara and JJ are 19. They’ve been together for awhile, sure, but they’ve spent most of that time trying to keep JJ alive. JJ’s sex drive had diminished along with the rest of his vitality, and when the pneumonia ravaged him, they just hadn’t thought about it at all.

But JJ’s in remission now.

So.

They’re thinking about it now.

As JJ’s vitality returns, they’re thinking about it a lot.

Because JJ’s 19, and he’s recovering. He’s alive.

So, yeah.

It’s time to live.

Chapter Text

-o-

CHAPTER TWO

-o-

It’s some time later — days and weeks don’t mean the same anymore — when JJ returns to his project. He seems a little flustered but ready to get back to work. He starts up where he left off, going through the closet in the spare bedroom, taking stock of the supplies Kiara has haphazardly shoved there over the last six months.

It’s rather a lot, to her embarrassment. She stands in the doorway apologetically. It all feels very ridiculous now, her efforts to do renovation.

For his part, JJ doesn’t seem bothered by her efforts or her poor use of supplies. He seems wholly focused on finding out where things are at and what he needs. At his core, JJ has always been inherently pragmatic. It’s one of the reasons why he never balked at buying his childhood home. To him, it had been a simple solution that just made sense.

It was there, after all. He knew it inside and out.

If he could handle his father’s fingerprints all over the woodwork, then it’s no surprise he can handle hers. She wonders now, after knowing Luke, if he’d tried to fix things up once, too. If he’d just never gotten far enough.

Kiara had started and failed, too.

But JJ.

JJ’s going to finish it.

For all of them.

It makes her proud; it makes her happy.

It also makes her a little embarrassed. She’d tried so hard, but it’d been such a pisspoor job. Yes, she’d needed the outlet.

The house hadn’t.

She tries to be nonchalant about it, but the more shit JJ pulls out of the closets from her exploits, the more ridiculous she feels. She doesn’t know if she should go in there and help – or maybe explain – but it’s so mortifying that she ends up reading a book in the other room instead.

This isn’t about her, she reminds herself.

Right now, it’s just about JJ.

He’s not going through the closets to find supplies. He’s going through the closets to remember where he was. To remember who he was. The plans he’d had.

This is what she tells herself as she reads her book.

Going over the same page for the fifth time.

The sound of JJ’s rustling is impossible to miss, as is his little stream of muttering. It’s vaguely reassuring – signs of real life after all he’s been through – but she hears him stop.

And then:

“What the–” he starts, and stops short. She hears the hesitation and surprise in his voice. “Kie, what is this?”

She honestly has no idea. In her frantic efforts to keep the house projects going, she’s not sure what she’s actually done and not done. She can’t remember doing half of it, and whatever the hell is in the closets is going to be a surprise for both of them. “I don’t know,” she says, getting up and putting the book down as she goes to the room. “I got a little out of control–”

She is ready to apologize for poorly kept power tools and improperly sealed cans of paint. However, what JJ hauls out is a box.

The box with the record player.

It’s still sealed, just like it was when she unwrapped it at Christmas.

He looks at the box and looks at her, and his blue eyes are so earnestly confused that she doesn’t know what to say or do. Should she apologize? Should she explain? Is he mad?

Why does it look like she broke his heart?

“You never set it up,” he finally says.

She remembers. It’s hazy, like a dream, but she remembers. He’d said he didn’t want to wait. That he hadn’t wanted her to wait.

“Well,” she starts and she wets her lips. “We got kind of busy.”

That is to say, JJ nearly died and Kiara went completely off book to save his life and forged an unlikely friendship with his abusive, estranged father before JJ finally recovered.

She can’t say that, though.

Like, she’s not going to.

“We weren’t that busy,” he says, though. “I mean, like, we were the opposite of busy.”

As if dying is some anticlimactic activity for easygoing fun.

She lets herself scoff at that. “Believe it or not, I was pretty preoccupied. I wasn’t home much.”

Or at all. She didn’t come home until JJ came home.

“I was unconscious for a week,” he argues, as if this is some kind of point to make. “You didn’t have to just sit there.”

She’s not sure how he’s actually serious, but laughing is entirely the wrong response.

Instead, she can only goggle at him. “Are you suggesting I should have left you alone in the hospital while I went home and listened to music? Just hit up my favorite tunes while you were in the ICU on life support?”

“Yes,” he says, almost out of reflex. Totally serious, not missing a beat. “I mean, you didn’t have to waste your time–”

He’s falling back into his old habits, and Kiara cuts that shit off at the knees. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “You are not going to say that.”

It’s a familiar refrain, so at least he knows what she means. And he’s well enough to take the feedback with a long, drawn-out breath as he concedes. “Still,” he says. “I bought it for you to use.”

“And I just hadn’t gotten there yet, Jayj,” she says. She looks helplessly at the box, shrugging a little. “It doesn’t mean I wasn’t going to.”

The flicker of doubt on his face is impossible to miss, and he struggles to keep in check. “You don’t like it?” he asks, and he sounds way, way too young.”

“No,” Kiara says quickly. “I love it. I just – the time was never right.”

“But I’m better now,” he says, and it’s almost like a protest. He swallows, nodding at her. “You could do it now.”

“I will,” she says. And then, she clarifies the necessary part. “We will.”

His brow creases, and it seems to vex him slightly. “I bought it for you.”

Because Kiara may see them exclusively as a set now, but JJ somehow still sees her as her. JJ’s not just fighting for himself. He’s not just fighting for them, even.

He’s fighting for her.

As if she needed more reasons to love him.

So she reassures him as best she can. “I’ll set it up,” she promises. “I swear.”

His eyes are hopeful as he looks at her again. “I hate how much you missed for me.”

“That’s not how it works,” she tells him. “I would have hated how much I missed without you.”

He huffs, and he has to shake his head as he lets the emotion out. “Cancer’s a son of a bitch, isn’t it?”

Kiara can only nod in agreement. “It is,” she says, but she inclines her head. “And it’s not our problem anymore.”

-o-

The possibilities are endless, but that kind of thing is too much for both of them. Kiara retreats back to familiar habits – yoga, runs down by the beach, and reading – while JJ busies himself with whatever’s in front of him.

Before he can face the whole wide world, he has to start with his house.

And Kiara can’t pretend like the house isn’t a disaster.

The work she did had mattered to her at the time. She’d been desperate to keep things moving, to keep herself preoccupied. Her work had helped her sustain the illusion that everything was fine. She’d needed it at the time; they both had.

It’s debatable, though, whether or not the house needed it. Her slipshod work and half-finished projects. There’s paint on the baseboards and some of the backsplash is already falling off.

JJ says nothing to her about it, but gets to work, fixing her mistakes and enhancing what she started. When he’s done with an area, it’s like her work has been completely revitalized. She can see what she started, but he’s finished it with a finesse she knows now to appreciate.

Now that he’s feeling better, he’s more focused than before. With his energy levels nearly back to normal levels, there’s really nothing holding him back. He makes short work of each room, cleaning things up and checking things up until, progressively, room by room, the house starts to look like it should.

Like JJ always dreamed it would.

Like JJ promised her it would.

Shit, he’s even doing projects she didn’t even realize needed to be done. The things he finds to do blow her mind, and she can’t decide if he’s delaying the rest of his life or just trying to invest himself in the details.

Either way, she can’t make heads or tails when he breaks out a roller and a ladder, laying down drop cloths to paint the ceiling.

“Why the hell are you painting the ceilings?” she asks. “They’re already white.”

“Nah,” he says. “Look up.”

And she does.

“Do you see it?” he says, nodding at the half painted line across the room. “The difference it makes?”

A small change; a big impact. The fresh white is cleaner, starker. It’s fresh and vibrant, adding life she hadn’t realized the room was lacking. It’s a dramatic transformation.

Because of JJ.

He’s still looking up, squinting at his work.

She’s looking at him.

“Yeah,” she says. “I see the difference.”

-o-

After a week, Kiara decides that JJ’s efforts in the house are good. A few months into remission, and he’s investing in himself, in his home. He’s finding his purpose and rediscovering who he is and what he wants.

It’s so good to see.

Honestly, it’s the best.

After seeing him languish in this house with a 50/50 chance of survival, she’s watching him bring it back to life. She’s watching him come back to life.

All she wants to do is sit and watch him, awestruck. So she’s surprised, then, when he wipes his hands on his legs one morning and turns to look at her.

“Okay,” he announces. “You need to go out.”

He’s so direct about it that it takes her by surprise. He practices so much deference with Kiara, and cancer has taken a lot of his spirit, and he’s still getting it back.

“Yeah?” she asks, she glances around, trying to figure if he’s out of some supply or something she’s overlooked. “Do you need something?”

He takes a breath, as if he’s trying to ground himself. “No, I mean, no,” he says. “I don’t need anything.”

Now she’s starting to feel genuinely confused. There’s no urgency in his voice, but there’s something concerned in his face. She can’t place. “Okay. So, I don’t–”

He draws another breath, this one just as steady. “You need to go out,” he says, practically insisting. And then, softer, he clarifies, “For you.”

The words are simple, of course. But she has no idea what he’s talking about. “But I don’t need anything.”

He rolls his eyes, now. “It’s not about need. Go do something fun.”

She looks at him like he’s lost his mind. Or maybe just like she’s losing hers. “But–”

“Like get coffee with Sarah. Take Cleo surfing,” he says. “Go save a turtle or something. Go out.”

“But I don’t need–”

“You don’t need to do anything. That’s the point,” he says. The inflection in his voice is telling. “You don’t have to take me to an appointment. You don’t have to help me get out of bed or help me force shit down my throat. If I’m living, so are you.”

It’s hard to argue, sure. But it’s also hard to force herself to agree. Logic is something, and she knows it. But the feeling is hard to shake. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I do,” he says decisively. “Kie, the doctors cleared me. It’s the first time in 18 months I don’t have an appointment on the books. If they can let me go, I think you can, too.”

It’s not so much the logic that gets her. It’s not even her emotions, which are still wildly sensitive to anything related to JJ and his well being.

It’s just she can’t say no to JJ, can she?

He put his life in her hands, and that responsibility is impossible to relinquish. She sedated him, put him on life support, and transfused him with his abusive father’s bone marrow.

Yeah, she’s going to yield to this.

JJ thinks he owes her.

But she knows better.

She knows she will owe him for the rest of her life.

“Are you sure?” she asks, and part of her wants him to say no. Part of her wants him to ask her to say. Because part of her just isn’t ready to leave. JJ is living again, but Kiara hasn’t even started.

He comes close to her, kissing her gently. “Yes,” he says, and he runs his hand through her hair. “I’m sure.”

“Okay, okay,” she says, feeling flushed. Her heart’s pounding a little. The kiss; the prospect of going out. “I’ll set something up with the girls.”

Now, JJ steps back. He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck, through the still growing blonde strands. “Well, that’s the thing,” he says, and he glances up at her, chewing his bottom lip. “I already set it up.”

This whole conversation has caught her off guard, but she genuinely has no idea how to process that. “What?”

Because JJ has been unable to do anything for so long. For months, he’s been so focused on not dying that he’s lacked the volition to live. She’s not living with a guy with cancer anymore.

She’s just living with a guy.

Messy, imperfect, impulsive, and independent.

It’s been so long.

It’s been too long.

She hardly knows what to do.

His lips are pinched and he works his jaw. “Cleo and Sarah will be here soon.”

Her breath catches, and she’s reeling. It’s presumptuous bullshit – that’s what it is. “What the hell?”

She’s ready to ream him out, but JJ pulls himself up – clearly ready to stand his ground. They haven’t done this – this fighting. During JJ’s treatment, they’d been united by necessity.

Now, without that common enemy, they’re just two people in a relationship.

Trying to make sense of one another.

Kiara doesn’t want to be told what to do.

And JJ doesn’t want to drop his point. “You need to go out,” he says with a sense of finality, as if that’s the final word.

Like hell it is. It’s been so long since she’s felt this, this surge of indignant anger. At JJ.

Before they’d been so keen to capitulate, to give in, to compromise.

But now, here they are, standing their ground.

And they’re not on the same side of the line.

“And what?” she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “You just get to decide for me.”

She’s used to him giving in. Even before he was sick, JJ had been a pushover with her. She knows the power disparity between them has always been real, ever since they got back to the OBX and she said it wasn’t bad weird.

He’s always believed she’s out of his league, and she’s always told him otherwise.

But she can’t pretend she hasn’t gotten used to it.

To see him capitulate.

It’s usually respect, at least that’s what she tells herself. But maybe she’s taken advantage of it, too. Just a little bit.

Because he stands his ground, and she’s indignant as he doesn’t give ground at all. If anything, her defiance only bucks him up, and he lifts his chin as he looks at her. “You did it for me.”

Her mouth drops open. That’s not the card she’s expecting him to play. It feels like a low blow, but she’s not sure how since he’s the one in the vulnerable position. “That’s different.”

He’s not convinced. At all. “How?” he says, outright challenging her now.

It leaves her reeling for a second. For all her talk of equity in the world, she’s perhaps underestimated it in her own relationship. JJ is in recovery now. His body is recovering.

His spirit is recovering.

She never fell in love with a wilting flower. She fell in love with a boy who was headstrong and stupid and beautiful.

Just like she was.

Her cheeks flush as she grapples with it. “You were – I mean,” she starts and stutters to a stop. Her chest is tight suddenly. “You were–”

She can’t make herself say it, but JJ can. “Dying?”

Now, she goes fully red. It was her reality for so long. Moving on is – weird, to say the least. Part of her is scared to say it for fear of it still being true.

Part of her understands JJ at 16 now. Deny, deny, deny certainly has its attributes.

Funny that she gets it now. When JJ finally admits otherwise.

“Well, now I’m living,” he says, simple as can be. He nods at her, utterly matter of fact. “And so are you. So go.”

Everything inside her wants to fight. The need to assert herself is stronger than ever, pressing on her with an intensity that surprises her. Defiance is a luxury, she realizes. Rebellion is a gift of privilege. No wonder JJ had never left home during all those years of Luke’s abuse; he’d been too beaten down to know what it meant.

During JJ’s cancer, it had been the same before. She’d been so focused on survival that the idea of something more just hadn’t occurred to her.

This is different now. JJ is healthy and happy, and Kiara can do and be anything. Just like she’s a teenager again, with infinite options and the illusion of control.

Because yeah, it’s not just an extension of privilege. It’s an illusion, too.

You don’t get to control everything that happens to you, even if you’re defiant. Fate will have its way with you no matter what you do. That’s just as terrifying as it is comforting, and Kiara can’t remember why she’s fighting this fight at all.

She exhales, long and slow, and lets the beat of her heart get back into rhythm. She purses her lips, willing to concede the fight but not all her ground. “Fine,” she says. She gives him a hard, cool nod. “But you do know that you don’t get to tell me what to do, right? That’s not how this works.”

She expects him to meet her halfway on that – it’s an easy point of compromise – but his expression doesn’t change. “Of course I’m going to tell you what to do,” he says, and he nods his head at her. “Because if you’re not going to take care of yourself, I sure as hell am.”

It makes her laugh, a short and incredulous sound. “Why would you get to decide?”

“Because that’s what it means,” he says, emphatic now. “To be in a relationship. Shit, Kie, if you hadn’t told me what to do, I’d be dead right now. Because you knew me well enough to see beyond what I thought I wanted and gave me what I needed.”

That’s a fine line, a delicate line. To assume you have control or power over any part of another person is hard to grasp, and her desire to control her own destiny is strong. But relationships make you concede things. They make you concede certain parts of yourself.

That can go badly, sure. When it veers into control and manipulation, when it’s selfish and arrogant.

But it can go well, sure. When it’s about support and growth, when it’s selfless and humble.

She would scold him for walking that line, except he’s right. He’s right about relationships.

He’s right about her.

She has done it to him, and it’s not just the advanced directive. It’s not just that she put him on life support against his will and had him sedated.

She brought his father back. She had Luke save JJ’s life.

A fact she’s kept from JJ all this time.

A fact she may always keep from JJ.

Because that’s what it means, right?

To be in a relationship.

You do what’s best for the other person, even if it’s not the thing they’d choose for themselves.

Her silence seems to break him a little, and his whole expression starts to crumble. He moves toward her. “If you really don’t want to, I’ll call them, I will,” he says, all in a rush now. “I just thought – I was worried about you – and you do so much for me, and–”

She crosses the remaining distance between them and takes his hand. “Shut up,” she says, but her voice is gentle. “You’re right, JJ. You’re right.”

He looks stricken, still, as if he can’t believe her. She can see his fledgling confidence start to crumble. “But I mean, I’m not trying to – shit,” he says, going red in the face. “I’m not my dad. I’m not–”

He’s saying it like he’s convincing himself more than her, and her chest clenches as she realizes. He’s worried about being controlling and domineering. He’s worried about slipping into abusive patterns that have been ingrained into him since childhood.

Maybe Luke had had the same fear, which is why he’d kept himself out of JJ’s life now.

And Kiara couldn’t pretend like the fears weren’t warranted.

Behavioral patterns are hard to break.

But JJ? Isn’t Luke Maybank.

And Luke Maybank? Is capable of change, too.

“Hey,” she says. “You came on a little strong, but you knew I wouldn’t listen if you asked. You didn’t belittle me. You didn’t touch me. There was nothing over the line about what you did.”

“But your response–” he starts, still clearly troubled by it.

“Is kind of on me,” she admits. “I have a bit of oppositional defiance disorder in me after all.”

He sighs, shaking his head and closing his eyes for a second. “I just need you to take care of yourself,” he says, and he opens his eyes and looks at her again. “You gave so much of yourself to taking care of me, and I just – wanted to return the favor.”

She smiles, moving her hand from his and wrapping it around his back. “You could have just said that.”

He bites his lip, looking sheepish. “You don’t listen all that well, sometimes.”

Her mouth falls open, but there’s nothing to back up her indignation. “I would be pissed if you weren’t right.”

Finally, this elicits a smile.

She goes up on her toes, brushing a kiss to his cheek. “This is what normal couples do, I think. They fight and they talk,” she says. “This is what we’re going to do, too.”

“Not dying is weird,” he says, and he tips his head against hers, cheek in her hair.

“It’s called living, JJ,” she says, as much for him as for herself. “It’s just called living.”

-o-

She doesn’t like being told what to do, this much is true. It occurs to her, however, how silly it is. This isn’t her parents telling her to stop hanging out with Pogues or to go to college. This is literally just her friends.

Her best friends.

Cleo is driving and honks the horn repeatedly. Sarah waves at her giddily from the front seat, where she has the window down. The sight makes her grin; she just can’t help it.

It’s not that she hasn’t been out with the girls recently. All throughout JJ’s treatment and illness, they’d made a point to take her out and spend time with her.

It’s just that she hasn’t been herself with the girls in ages. She put her life on hold for JJ; she put herself on hold. Going out with her friends had been going through the motions, more for them than for herself. How was she supposed to be their friend – when she hadn’t even known how to be herself?

JJ’s better now. And Kiara is coming back to herself. Slowly and surely, and this trip is part of it. She knows it, the second she gets into the car. She needs this.

Cleo grins at her. “Look at you, girl!”

Sarah turns around and beams. “I am so excited.”

Kiara blushes despite herself. “You act like you haven’t seen me.”

“No, it’s just nice to have you out of the house without coercing you,” Cleo says, putting the car into gear as they roll out. JJ is on the porch, offering them a small wave as they turn around.

Sarah waves back. “And it’ll be so nice to be able to talk to you about something other than JJ’s odds.”

“Hey!” Kiara objects.

Sarah shrugs, looking back at her without actual remorse. “I just mean there are no odds now!” she says. “He’s in remission.”

“There are still odds,” Kiara starts.

Sarah shakes her head, as if refusing to hear it. “Uh uh, no way,” she says. “JJ’s in remission. So we’re all in remission.”

Kiara can’t help herself but to argue. “But it doesn’t work like that–”

Cleo clears her throat, pulling them onto the road. “The point is JJ’s in remission today,” she says with a certain finality. “If he’s not in remission tomorrow, we’ll talk about that. Tomorrow.”

Sarah beams in agreement. “I like that,” she says rather contentedly. “Because today? We’re doing straight up girl time.”

Cleo snorts. “As long as it involves caffeine and sugar, I’m good with that.”

“And gossip!” Sarah says. “I have so much gossip!”

Kiara may roll her eyes at the total ridiculousness of it all, but she can’t pretend she’s not smiling. She can’t pretend she’s not enjoying this.

She definitely needs this.

-o-

Even as excited as she is, Kiara expects it to feel weird. Going out. Being a person again. It doesn’t track how long it’s been — months now. She’s out of practice, and she expects to feel that way.

But the only weird part is that it’s not weird at all.

Everything is so normal that she doesn’t know what to do. All the old habits, all the old routines, come back to her, and she realizes suddenly that they probably never left. She’s just not known how to be a part of them.

Now that she’s back, it’s like she never left.

Her and the girls.

Getting their coffee.

Talking shit and having fun.

Just like old times.

They hit up one of the local coffee shops, something far clear of the Figure Eight with good, fresh local coffee and homemade pastries. It seems indulgent and wasteful to Kiara sometimes, to eat at places like this, but right now, she just doesn’t care.

Life is about being wasteful, sometimes.

You have to know when to indulge.

And just to assuage her guilt, she orders a reusable cup and asks for a plate without disposable utensils to enjoy her latte and cookie with as little environmental impact as possible.

At the table, Cleo is already halfway through her black coffee. For all her talk of sugar, her croissant is the plainest option of all three of theirs, but she seems to enjoy it. Sarah has held nothing back. It’s only 10:30, but she’s got a frothy mocha and a decadent brownie, and the three of them sit there, eating and drinking and talking.

“So, what’s it been like?” Sarah asks. “Now that JJ is in remission.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about JJ,” Cleo points out.

Sarah’s mouth drops open, as if appalled. “I said I didn’t want to talk about his odds,” she says. She smiles sweetly at Kiara. “But I’m more than happy to talk about him. As he is dating my best friend.”

Kiara is quick to speak up, eager not to let their banter escalate. “It’s been good,” she says, and she fiddles with the cookie, breaking off a piece. “I mean, surreal, maybe? But obviously good. He’s been doing all sorts of work on the house. I’m not sure he knows what else to do.”

“Well, you have to start somewhere,” Cleo agrees, and she takes another drink.

“It just seems anticlimactic,” Sarah offers with a shrug. “I mean, you beat cancer and then you just start up housework? Like doesn’t he want to go skydiving or something? Base jumping. That’s a thing I bet JJ would do.”

Kiara chuckles. “Maybe before – but it’s different now. He’s different,” she says, and she’s not sure how to explain it. “Like he used to always put his life on the line when we were kids. But I think he knows better now. He finally knows he has something to lose.”

“Aw,” Sarah says. “He’s growing up!”

“We all are,” Cleo reminds her. “I mean, what were we thinking? Treasure hunting and hopping on planes to South America?”

“Well, that was adventure,” Sarah says. “And back then – I mean, what did we have to lose?”

“A lot,” Kiara says. She has to laugh as she shakes her head. “I mean, I didn’t think so either. We all thought we were invincible. We survived all that and – bam. Just like that. JJ gets cancer and that’s nearly it.”

Sarah’s brows furrow a little. “It does make you think. What a happy ending really is.”

“Nah, it just makes you remember,” Cleo says, shaking her head. “I mean, we could still do it. We could still drop everything and follow that lead to Blackbeard’s treasure.”

The lead had been given to them the day the town honored them for their accomplishments. That day had been their crowning achievement, even more than the money. It had been the day when everyone had acknowledged they’d been right. The day when everyone accepted them on their terms.

For Kiara, it had been her time to stand her ground. Six months prior, she’d emancipated herself. After six months, her parents had accepted it – accepted her.

It had been the pinnacle of her control. It had been the moment when she had gotten everything she ever wanted.

Three months later, JJ had been diagnosed with cancer.

And the whole thing had fallen apart.

She swallows hard, trying not to think about it. That gut punch still resounded through her, no matter what she did. “Does John B still think about it?” Kiara asks, looking at Sarah. “The treasure?”

Sarah opens her mouth and closes it as she thinks about her answer. Finally, she slumps her shoulders a little. “He did,” she says. “I mean, he has a whole filing cabinet full of notes about it. He’d gotten papers and books and photo copies. He had some real leads, good ones, too.”

It’s not exactly news. For those three months – those three perfect months – they’d all been in on it. They’d brainstormed with him, gone over the clues. They’d all had their input as they geared up for the hunt.

“But I don’t know,” Sarah says, and she shakes her head as if it’s decided. “When JJ got sick, he just stopped. He put everything away. He locked the cabinet and hasn’t opened it since.”

“He could get it out now,” Cleo suggests. “I mean – we all could.”

Sarah bites her lip, picking at a bit of her brownie absently. “I think it’s what you said,” she says, nodding to Cleo. “About realizing what a happy ending is. Because when JJ got sick – he could have just thrown himself into it. He could have lost himself in the treasure so he didn’t have to think about it.”

Obsession is a convenient coping mechanism sometimes. It had been the way John B had ultimately dealt with his dad’s disappearance, and they all know it.

“Why didn’t he?” Cleo asks quietly.

“He saw what it did to his dad. How it consumed him. He just wanted his dad to be his dad – not a treasure hunter,” she explains. “He didn’t want the treasure to be a crutch. Not when there were so many other more important things. He could live without a treasure. But living without his best friend? His brother?”

She doesn’t have to say it; they all know it.

“It would have been impossible,” she says, because she’d seen John B rise to the challenge. John B had been there for every tough moment. He’d gotten JJ through every obstacle. John B hadn’t wavered, not for a second.

It’s easy to take it for granted, because JJ had been so needy and because John B had been so giving. She can look back now and see it more clearly. She can look back now.

Sarah smiles, and it’s a little sadder now, a little sober. They’ve all suffered; they’ve all lost. Kiara knows how selfish she’s been by necessity. Now she has to look around and see them.

“Does he want to go back to it?” Kiara asks. “I mean, should we start the hunt again?”

It’s a question, isn’t it? Now that JJ is in remission, what’s holding them back? Why wouldn’t they? What else do they have to do?

But Sarah tips her head to the side, and she shakes her head. “I don’t think so?” she says, and she sounds a little uncertain, or maybe just hesitant. “Honestly, he hasn’t even talked about it. I don’t think he misses it.”

“Ah, well,” Cleo says. “We don’t have to sit around and worry about the boys. We can make up our own minds. And me? I don’t need any more treasure.”

Sarah chuckles. “You know, I don’t know if I do either,” she says. “For now, I could just do some quiet. Some simple.”

“You’re right,” Kiara says, getting her head back around. She gestures easily. “What about you guys? I mean, I’ve been a totally horrible friend. I haven’t asked that in about 18 months.”

“You talk like it’s been a choice,” Sarah retorts. “You were kind of preoccupied.”

Kiara takes a sip and shakes her head. “We don’t need to make excuses,” she says.

Cleo arches an eyebrow. “I’m not sure cancer is an excuse–”

“Whatever,” Kiara says. “JJ’s in remission. I don’t get to be self-absorbed anymore. I don’t want to be. So tell me about you. Anything.”

Cleo and Sarah exchange a look, somewhat understated – and knowing. She hasn’t given much thought to that, either. That her friends have been living without her. That they’ve been bonding without her. It’s not mean spirited; it’s not wrong. But Kiara feels a pang of something – not quite jealousy. Not quite regret. Not quite – anything.

“Oh, you know,” Sarah says, noncommittal.

Kiara doesn’t let her own feelings get in the way, though. She pushes them back and keeps them in check, remembering how much her friends have given her. “I want the details, mundane ones, even.”

“Working, mostly,” Cleo says, and she sounds tired but proud of it anyway. Her head is high when she says, “I’m supporting my man, after all. He’s the full time student. I’m the one, bringing home the dough.”

“For the bread you can put the cheese on,” Sarah says with a grin.

Cleo giggles. “You know it,” she says. She waggles her eyebrows. “It’s not bad to have him feeling a little indebted.”

Sarah nods sagely. “A healthy amount of respect is good,” she agrees. “And honestly, these boys would be nowhere without us.”

“Agreed,” Cleo says, making a face. “Pope is all academic, but smart business decisions aren’t just made with book smarts.”

“Right?” Sarah says. “You have to have a business mindset. Something that John B doesn’t have at all. I swear to you, our surf shop would have folded by now if I wasn’t in charge of the books. I’m not acting like I got a lot of good things from my dad, but his business acumen hasn’t been totally lost on me.”

“Just leave the murderous ambitions aside,” Cleo muses.

Sarah smiles, but it’s a little sad. “He just lost sight of it, you know? What mattered and he let the whole thing get away from him. I think he did love me.”

Cleo nods a little, and Kiara isn’t sure what to say. To any of it, really. This normal back and forth. This casual, easy conversation. She’s almost foreign to it.

“People are complicated,” Cleo says softly.

“I wonder what it’d be like,” Sarah says. She wrinkles her nose a little. “If he didn’t die. Would I have ever trusted him again? It’s, like, easy to think about forgiving him when he’s not here. But he did so many terrible, terrible things. And saving my life – I don’t know. He literally tried to kill me. So I don’t know.”

“People can change,” Kiara says suddenly. The girls look at her, almost in surprise. In truth, Kiara is surprised by the sound of her own voice as their eyes take her in. She wets her lips and finds the words to continue. “Sometimes people do use second chances for the best.”

Because she thinks of Luke. She thinks of his decision to help JJ while getting nothing in return. All the things he got wrong, and he got that one right.

She’s not sure what redemption looks like. She’s not sure when forgiveness is warranted. She’s not sure what it takes for absolution to be granted.

She doesn’t know.

Maybe that’s the point.

Sarah chews her bottom lip quietly. “Have you forgiven your parents?”

“What?” Kiara asks, taken aback.

“After what they did to you at Kitty Hawk,” Sarah says, a little cautious, a little gentle. “Like that was bullshit. Them kidnapping you.”

“JJ told us about it,” Cleo says. She shakes her head with a low whistle. “That’s some pretty crazy shit.”

Kiara shifts, feeling just a little uncomfortable. She knows Kitty Hawk isn’t a secret, but she also knows she never brings it up.

Because it’s traumatic to think about, yes.

But also because her parents betrayed her. And it’s a betrayal she’s not sure how to come to terms with.

Sometimes she gets it. Sometimes she knows they love her.

Other times, it feels like they don’t know her at all. She doesn’t know how love looks like that.

Then again, love doesn’t always look like you think it will.

Love isn’t about being perfect.

Love is about making mistakes.

Love is about doing better next time.

At least, she thinks it might be.

“We’ve talked some,” she says, and she looks at her hands with a shrug, wrapping her fingers around her drink. “I think they want to make it better.”

“Well, you’re under no obligation,” Cleo says simply. “You get to decide what feels right – not them.”

“But I get it,” Sarah says. “Like part of you wants it. And part of you doesn’t.”

“Ah,” Cleo says, shaking her head. “Sometimes you make me not as sad that my family’s all gone. At least that way they can’t hurt me anymore.”

Sarah looks at Cleo with concern. “Don’t say that!” she says. “I mean, family’s complicated. And they hurt you. But it’s worth it. Family’s worth it.”

“But the right family,” Cleo says. “Us, the Pogues? Damn straight. For the two of you, though. I think it’s up for debate just how much your DNA means.”

“Well, it’s our choice,” Sarah says quickly, and she looks at Kiara with a reassuring nod. “Totally your choice.”

Kiara smiles weakly in return. “Thanks,” she says. She pauses to take a drink and then sighs. “Honestly, with JJ, I’ve been so focused on him getting better that I haven’t even dealt with my folks. I’ve ghosted them since Christmas.”

“They kidnapped you,” Cleo reminds her. “You can ghost them forever, if that’s what you want.”

“And if they’re serious about wanting to make it better, they’ll still be ready when you’re ready,” Sarah says. “Really, Kie. After the last year and a half, you get to be selfish for a while.”

“Amen to that,” Cleo says with a resounding nod. She tears off a piece of her croissant and pops it in her mouth. “You’ve been a saint.”

Kiara scoffs. “What was I going to do? JJ was so sick. He needed me.”

“Of course,” Sarah says. “I’m just not sure you realize that what you did for him? Isn’t what everyone would do. I mean, we’re talking about family here. Not all families step up like that.”

“But we all stepped up,” Kiara points out. She gestures at her best friends. “You both rearranged your lives for JJ – for both of us.”

“But we got to go home each night,” Sarah says softly. “We got reprieves.”

It’s a point, and Kiara knows it. She just doesn’t know if it matters, in the end. “I don’t know what the future holds – I really don’t. Ever since I left my parents, I haven’t had a clue,” she says. “But I knew one thing, and one thing only. It had JJ in it. I couldn’t do anything until he was better. I couldn’t.”

Sarah and Cleo don’t question that; there’s not even a flicker of doubt.

If anything, when they meet her gaze, it’s solidarity.

Real and completed.

“Now that he’s better,” Sarah says. “What will you do? Who will you be?”

Kiara opens her mouth, but she has to close it again. She shakes her head and picks up her drink. “Shit,” she says. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

“Aye,” Cleo says, picking up her own drink with a knowing smile. “For all of us, it seems.”

-o-

They spend most of the morning chatting and catching up, and it’s nice. It just is. They don’t have to talk about cancer treatments and haggling with insurance. They don’t have to brainstorm ideas to keep JJ eating and to keep his spirits up. In fact, beyond the update that JJ is doing great, they barely talk about him at all.

Which, Kiara knows how that sounds.

But she also knows it’s the point.

It’s what JJ wants.

It’s what they all want. Not to take JJ for granted, but to take his health for granted. No one wants it more than JJ, for everyone to stop worrying about whether he will live or die. He wants to live. He wants them all to live.

So Kiara enjoys her coffee. She orders a second. She laughs and talks and dreams. When she’s done, she hugs Sarah and Cleo, and she’s surprised to find herself crying.

“I know!” Sarah says, and she’s crying, too. “Every time I realize that things can go back to normal now, I just don’t know. After everything, it’s finally okay!”

Kiara wipes her eyes, but they won’t stop leaking. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she apologizes.

Cleo gives her a reassuring squeeze. “While JJ was dying, you had to keep yourself together,” she says. “He’s going to live now. So you can finally admit to yourself that nothing’s been okay at all.”

She takes a gasping breath, struggling with the sudden onslaught of her emotions. “It’s like I don’t even know what it means. What being okay even is anymore,” she says, still wiping the tears as they snake down her cheeks. “I don’t know what normal looks like.”

“We never got to settle down and find normal,” Sarah reminds her gently. “We got back from South America, and we were getting the gold – and right when all the things were lining up, JJ got diagnosed. We’re all starting from scratch, Kie. All of us.”

Kiara exhales, and she nods quickly. She blinks a few more times to still the worst of her tears before she manages another breath with a watery, sheepish smile. “I keep telling JJ it’s okay to be not okay.”

“You’re right,” Sarah says. “But it applies to you, too.”

“I know!” Kiara says, laughing a little. She sighs again, but it’s more collected this time. “Thanks, guys. I needed this.”

Cleo wrinkles her nose in approval. “We all needed it.”

“And we’re going to do it way more,” Sarah says, still mopping up her own tears. “Like, your schedule is clear now. So there’s no more excuses.”

Kiara knows there’s no way to fight Sarah on this. Which is fine. Honestly, she doesn’t want to.

She wants to have coffee dates with the girls. She wants to go shopping, take walks, go to the movies – all of it. Everything.

She looks at Sarah and Cleo – her friends. Her sisters.

The family she’s chosen, just as much as she’s chosen JJ.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she says. “I just – want you to know that.”

“My family is a bunch of murderous crazy people,” Sarah says.

“And mine is all dead,” Cleo adds.

“So, what else would we be doing?” Sarah says with a shrug.

“Still,” Kiara says, and she’s doing her best not to cry again. She laughs instead. “Still.”

She doesn’t know what to say, so she hugs them again.

They hug her back.

Because they know exactly what she’s trying to say, after all.

-o-

They linger, and that’s okay. There’s no rush, there’s no pressure. She doesn’t have to get back for an appointment. She doesn’t have to make sure JJ’s okay. She just doesn’t have to do anything, and that’s good. That’s more than good. That’s great.

In fact, by the time the girls drop her off, she feels absolutely refreshed and it has nothing to do with shots of caffeine and processed sugar.

It’s being with her friends. It’s being herself. It’s living again.

She’s still smiling when she climbs the stairs and steps through the porch. She opens the door to the kitchen. “JJ?” she calls, putting her things down. “I’m back!”

There’s a sound, something bangs. “Hey!” JJ’s voice sounds from the other room. “Um – come here!”

He sounds urgent – but not in an upsetting way. He’s not distressed, as best she can tell, but Kiara can’t help if she feels a pang of concern as she weaves her way through the house.

“Jayj?” she asks, confused when he’s not in the living room. He’s not in the bathroom or the bedroom. “What are you–”

She’s cut short by the sound of music. There’s a scratch, and then it starts up. The beat of the bongos and the reggae rhythm. The music is familiar – her favorite, Bob Marley – but it’s different. The sound, the feel–

She finds JJ in the spare room, and she finds him holding a record in his hand. He turns around, grinning. “What do you think?” he asks. “Like, the sound quality, right? What do you think?”

She looks past him, gaping a little, and she sees the empty box on the floor first.

“I think I got it set up right,” JJ continues, holding out the record for her. “And I just bought this to give it a try.”

She takes it because she doesn’t know what to do, and she stares at it blankly. It’s vintage, with a faded, worn cover, and the music crackles as the needle skips over the surface. The sound is full and dynamic, and all of a sudden, her eyes are burning and she can’t breathe.

“Is it okay?” JJ asks.

She looks up at him, half in wonder. He’s looking back at her, half terrified. He’s worried she’ll be mad, that she won’t like it, that he’s done it wrong.

“I just – I wanted to do it for you,” he says, and he’s starting to ramble, his eye contact skittering away. “And I thought – shit, I thought it could be a surprise. And you’d like it and we could – I don’t know. It’s stupid. I’m sorry–”

She takes him by the hand, squeezing it tight until he stops, until he looks at her.

“It’s perfect,” she says. Because it’s a promise fulfilled. It’s a future realized. It’s thoughtful and it’s sweet and it’s prescient and it’s perfect. “JJ, it’s perfect.”

Uncertainty lingers in his blue eyes, and she feels it rippling beneath his skin. She hates it, and always has. That fear that always threatens to cripple, the self-doubt that always seems to lurk just beneath the surface of his confident facade.

With the cancer, they’d been so worried about the disease.

Now that JJ’s in remission, she can worry about the rest.

Not a fragile body.

A fragile spirit. He hides it well, and always has. But there’s something tender and scared; there’s something innocent and needy.

It’s hard to grasp, then. How Luke could save JJ from cancer, but he’s the one who did this. His blood saved JJ’s life, but his fists and words broke every other part of him. The horrible irony isn’t lost on her, and she can’t do anything about it.

She can’t change what Luke’s done. She can’t change what she’s done.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he says, quieter now. The vulnerability is raw in his voice, and she feels herself draw closer to him out of instinct. Her need to protect him is stronger than ever, cancer or cancer-free. “Kie–”

“I love it,” she says before he can posture any more. Before he can talk himself out of it. She kisses him. “I love you.”

He exhales shakily, but his next breath in is steadier. “No more excuses. No more waiting,” he tells her. “Just living.”

She nods in agreement. “Just living.”

And she holds him close, letting the rhythm draw them together. She lays her head on his shoulder and he buries his chin in her hair as they move in tandem and the melody soars, filling the house and pulsing through her with every beat of her heart. JJ’s arms are secure, and she feels the breath in his lungs as the music washes over her.

Don’t worry about a thing, ‘cause every little thing gonna be alright.

He draws her in, he draws her up. And she lets go just for a second, just for an eternity.

Singing don’t worry about a thing, ‘cause every little thing gonna be alright.

This is what it is then: this is what it is to move on.

JJ’s survived. JJ’s surrendered.

Now, it’s time to live.

Now, it’s time for revival.

For JJ – for Kiara.

For every last one of them.

-o-

The thing is, happy endings aren’t the same in real life. Endings are just beginnings, and happy is a destination, happy is a choice. Happy is even relative, when you get right down to it.

Surviving cancer is the happiest ending possible.

But that doesn’t mean it’s always easy.

Physically, JJ doesn’t slow down. That much is true. His body rebounds with such veracity that it’s remarkable. There’s no sign of the illness that nearly killed him; there’s not a hint of the disease that stole everything he had.

Mentally, though, it’s not quite as easy. JJ already struggled with PTSD and anxiety, and his long illness and near-death experience has only heightened it and intensified his triggers. JJ’s always been anxious in confrontation, and he struggles with unexpected touch, especially from people who are older than him.

Now, he wakes up in nightmares where he can’t breathe, clutching his throat and gagging, begging her to pull it out, pull it out, pull it out. Some mornings, when he wakes up, he can’t shake an indefinable nagging feeling that something is wrong. He has Kie take his temperature, and the first few times he calls Dr. O’Brien just for reassurance.

Eventually, Kiara learns how to talk him out of it, how to hold his hand, how to sit him down on the porch swing with a blunt until he’s able to stop shaking.

“I don’t have cancer, right?” he asks, voice halting and scared. He’s not looking at her; he’s not looking at anything as the joint trembles in his fingers.

“You don’t have cancer,” she reassures him, helping him lift the blunt to his mouth, holding it there while he inhales. She lowers his hand again. “You don’t have cancer, JJ.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as he forces himself to breathe. “Shit,” he says, and his voice is ripe with disgust. With pain. “I’m just crazy.”

He’s too vulnerable to reprimand right now; he can’t be corrected out of his self deprecation in this state. So she stays close, close enough to ground him. “You’re not.”

He opens his eyes again, looking at her. “I feel crazy. Like, I know I don’t have cancer. But I can’t, like, convince myself of it sometimes.”

She lifts her hand to run her fingers through his hair. It’s still not at its full length, but it’s longer now. Long enough for her to thread her fingers through the delicate blonde strands. “PTSD isn’t crazy.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t have–”

“I swear to God, JJ,” she says. Because she’s tired, and he’s spent. And she’s not going to guilt him into anything right now, but she’s not going to pretend like it’s not real.

He caves immediately. “Okay, maybe I do,” he relents.

She continues smoothing her fingers through his hair. “Smoking helps, I know, but this – what we’re doing here – isn’t a permanent solution,” she says. “You have to deal with it.”

He looks at her, almost desperately. “But I’m getting better.”

The familiar refrain. The one they’ve rejoiced about countless times since JJ was told he was cancer-free.

But it’s not a cure-all, it seems.

Not even at all, if she’s being honest.

The cancer has left his body.

Its impact, though, is still as real as ever.

It’s complex, of course. And JJ has never been good with emotions.

So she’s not surprised, exactly.

She also can’t let it go any longer.

“Physically, yes,” she says, and she is firm but gentle about this. She needs him to understand, but she knows this isn’t easy. “But emotionally — you just need more time. That doesn’t come back to normal quite as easily.”

Desperation crosses over his expression quickly, even as she sees him try to pull it back in and get himself together. “But I’m so happy.”

This is also true. She’s never seen him happier. He’s finally gotten everything he’s ever wanted. His body is finally ready to enjoy it, so it’s hard for him to grasp why his mind might not be ready.

Which is all the more reason for her to make him deal with it.

To make them deal with it.

So they can both enjoy this happily ever after they’ve fought for so viciously.

“I know,” she says softly. Gentle and careful, because she understands. She understands all the ways it’s good.

And all the ways it’s not.

She understands the way his heart is healing and breaking at the same time, the way he looks to a future without being able to let go of the past.

Kiara knows.

He lifts his gaze, blue eyes big in the moonlight as the smoke from the blunt drifts up around them. “So, why? Why can’t I just be normal?”

“That’s why it’s PTSD,” she says. “Which doesn’t mean you’re not normal, by the way. It just means you probably need a little help coping.”

He exhales and starts shaking again, so much so that she feels the need to brace him. “Shit,” he says, and he blinks hard. She can feel his heart start to pound again. “Oh, shit.”

“It’s okay,” she says, and she puts the blunt in a glass cup on the table by the edge of the swing for now. She brings both hands up to his face, running them down his neck and shoulders. “We got through everything else. We can get through this. We will.”

His brows are drawn together, eyes unable to hide the turmoil he’s struggling to keep in check. “What can we do?”

He sounds so young, so desperate. She can’t help but wonder how often he feels like this and doesn’t show her, how much he keeps clamped down.

She knows that’s what he does; she knows it’s one of his most tried and true coping mechanisms. Now that he’s better, she’s going to have to make sure he’s really better.

“Right now, just finish the blunt,” she says, reaching for it again. She holds it up for him, and he reaches a shaky hand up to push it to his lips for an inhale. She uses her other hand to stroke the back of his neck. “Then, let me help you back to bed.”

He takes another hit, and this time his breathing is a little steadier. “And tomorrow?”

Their hands are touching as they hold the joint, hovering just in front of his face now. “We do simple things,” she says, with a low, steady voice. “We live.”

He nods, breathing in and out. Once. Then twice. “Okay,” he says, breathing a third time.”

She could leave it, but she’s seen too much of JJ’s suffering. If anything good has come from JJ’s cancer treatment, it’s the stark fact that letting things fester doesn’t make them better. You have to treat illness; you have to pursue it aggressively or it will destroy you.

That goes for the body.

She thinks it may also go for the mind. JJ trusted her with his body; she hopes he trusts her with this, too. “And we need to call a therapist.”

His eyes widen, coming to focus on her a little bit more with more than a hint of alarm. “But–”

But it’s late. But she’s just a little high off the fumes. But she’s seen JJ through hell and back. She’s not staying there again, not when they have options. “No, buts, Jayj. You’re long overdue.”

The protests flit through his eyes, and she knows them all as well as she knows JJ himself. Before this started, there would have been almost no way. She doesn’t like to think that this broke JJ too much; she just likes to think he’s ready to heal.

She hopes, because the way he looks at her. The way his eyes meet hers. The way he nods and it settles over his face with a kind of peace that she knows isn’t just from the weed.

“Well,” he says, swallowing a little as he smiles faintly. “I did make you my medical proxy.”

She smiles back, but she keeps stroking the back of his neck so he understands. “I’m not doing anything against your will. This has to be your choice.”

“I know,” he says. “I’m just saying that I trust you. That’s all I’m saying, Kie. I trust you.”

He trusts her. And shit, she loves him.

She loves him.

It still hits her sometimes, this overwhelming, encompassing feeling she has when she’s with him. The way he makes her feel like everything makes sense. The way he brings her life, herself into keen perspective. It’s not just that he can still make her weak in the knees or give her butterflies in her stomach. It’s that in the quiet, in the stillness. When the whirlwind dies down. Everything is right.

Leaving her parents and her life behind had been so, so hard.

Moving in and settling down with JJ had been so, so easy.

Even after all that she’s been through since then, she doesn’t regret it. Not for a single second. Not even at all.

“Here,” she says, bringing the blunt back up to his lips. “Just breathe.”

He does. He inhales and exhales.

“It’s okay,” she soothes, stroking his hair for the next hit. “I promise you, it’s going to be okay.”

-o-

They finish the blunt together, swirls of smoke in the quiet moonlight. When it’s done, she helps JJ to his feet and leads him back to bed. He follows her lead without question, and when she tucks him in, she curls up next to him, body pressed against him so he can feel her heart, the whisper of her breathing.

She holds him as he falls asleep, and she holds him while the darkness lingers. She looks up, studying the ceiling. The shadows play across the space as the night buzzes outside, still and deep and sure.

She thinks about it sometimes, despite herself. She thinks about what life would have been like if she’d listened to JJ and heeded his wishes.

Could she have come back to this house alone? Could she face each day like she is now? Would she know how to be happy? Would she know how to grieve? Would she have buried herself along with JJ and every hope and dream she’d not yet realized?

It’s scary to think about. Most of the time, she can’t fathom it, but when she stares into the dark, sometimes it comes to her unbidden. Saving JJ is saving her. The way only selfless love can.

She draws herself to him, pulling closer still. He shifts a little, murmuring in his sleep as she lays on his chest and lets herself be soothed by him. His life. Him.

The what-ifs don’t matter. The what-could-have-beens are irrelevant. What matters is here and now. What’s relevant is them.

This is their second chance.

Kiara holds him, as tight as she dares, and knows she’s never letting go.

-o-

Sleep comes easier than she expects, but it’s probably not a surprise. She almost can’t help it; having JJ back with her is such a respite. She knows things are still hard – she knows there’s a lot of hard things to come as she and JJ rebuild their lives – but shit. It’s the best kind of hard. It’s the perfect kind of hard.

She’s never felt more revitalized in her life.

When she rouses, it’s definitely not late – but she’s immediately struck by the absence.

JJ isn’t in the bed next to her.

She sits up – not concerned, necessarily. But – aware. She listens, glancing around – until she hears the sounds from the kitchen. She gets up, rubbing sleep out of her eyes as she pads her way there. JJ is there, getting a pot of coffee going. He smiles at her sheepishly.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” he says. “I wanted you to sleep.”

“No, you didn’t,” she says, shaking her head. She scrubs her hand through her hair, swallowing away the sleep.

“I did,” he says. He sighs, picking up a bowl of cereal he’s already poured and sitting down at the table. “After last night, I wanted you to sleep.”

“Last night was fine,” she assures him, taking a seat across from him. Cereal doesn’t sound good yet, but she will drink the coffee when it’s done.

“I need to schedule my meltdowns so they don’t happen at 3 AM,” he jokes wryly.

“You don’t get to schedule them,” she tells him pointedly. “PTSD does what it wants, when it wants.”

He reddens a little, hastily shoving a spoonful in his mouth. “Yeah, I know,” he says, chewing noisily and swallowing. “I just – wish you didn’t have to spend all your time, like, fixing me. I mean, that’s not a relationship, is it?”

Her heart clenches for a moment. “It’s not like that.”

He looks at her. “It kind of is.”

She sighs, unable to fully deny it. “You had cancer, JJ. There was nothing you could do about it. You were doing all the hard work.”

He wrinkles his nose. “I don’t think so,” he says, but he shrugs. “But I mean, I want to do the hard work now. With cancer – I couldn’t do shit, right? But this PTSD crap. I can do that.”

“Of course you can,” she says, a little out of reflex.

He pauses, putting his spoon in his bowl as he seems to give up the pretense of breakfast for now. “I just – like. Don’t know where to start.”

It’s kind of early, honestly. She didn’t get much sleep, and she may or may not have gotten a little high helping JJ with his blunt. “What do you mean?”

“Like. How do I find a therapist?” he says, and he’s clearly embarrassed by it. “Do you just – what? Type in therapists near me in Google?”

“Oh,” she says, because she’s not thought about it. She had a family therapist. Her family care doctor had provided a whole list of recommendations. She knows how it works. JJ’s never had any of those resources; he has no idea. “I mean, I know a few places to start.”

He winces, looking uncomfortable. “And what?” he says. “I just call them and say I’m crazy in the head?”

Her look turns gently exasperated. “You call them and say you want an appointment.”

His eyes narrow as he seems suspicious. “Just like that?”

“Well, then they book your appointment and you go in and figure it out,” she says. “It’s a relationship. You’ll set some goals and stuff and work on it.”

It’s a simple, sensible answer, and JJ seems even more reluctant to believe her. “And just talking,” he says. “They fix me with just talking.”

“They help you talk through stuff,” she says. “They help you identify patterns in your thoughts and behaviors so you can start to change them.”

He nods a little, as he considers it. “A relationship?” he asks, tipping his head and arching his brows. “So picking the right one matters and all.”

“Yeah,” she says. “I know of an office. They have lots of people there.”

He nods again, picking up his spoon and getting another bite of cereal. “I guess then,” he says. “Give me the number. I’ll call or whatever.”

Or whatever.

It’s crazy how easily he says it, like it’s nothing.

Back when they first moved in together, he would have fought her on this. She knows it’s true. He would have been stubborn and obstinate about it. He would have deflected, deferred, demurred – anything but do it.

But JJ doesn’t have it in him anymore. With the cancer, he’d been forced to open himself up. He’d had no choice but to be vulnerable as his body withered. In the end, he’d given her complete control, and he’d spent weeks on life support, unable to do anything for himself.

Whatever idea of pride JJ had with his friends, it’s different now.

She doesn’t like to think it’s beaten him into submission.

She likes to think it’s shown him that he doesn’t have to be alone.

That is perhaps an overly optimistic take on things, but that’s why JJ needs therapy. As if his childhood wasn’t a shitshow, he’s been through a traumatic illness and suffered a near-death experience. So, the idea that JJ is willing to get help is a relief, no matter how it comes about.

“Of course,” she says, smoothing a hand on his forearm. “I can make the call, if you want me to.”

He shakes his head, face set in sudden determination. “No, I’m the head case. I can call.”

“You’re not a head case,” she says, and it’s a point she’s willing to belabor. She squeezes his wrist and gets up. “I’ll find the number after I have my coffee.”

He snorts, picking up his spoon again. “When did you become a caffeine addict?”

She makes a derisive noise as she goes to the pot. JJ can mock her all he wants; he still made the pot. “Since I lived in a hospital for months.”

He takes a noisy bite, slurping some of the milk. “Low blow,” he protests. “Now it’s my fault?”

She rolls her eyes, pouring herself a generous cup. “I’m blaming cancer.”

JJ shrugs, as he considers it with a wrinkle of his nose. “Well, it gave me PTSD, so you’re getting off easy.”

She kisses him, wrapping her hands around the cup as she sits back down. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Want to trade?” he asks coyly. “One mental illness for one addiction.”

She snorts, putting her phone in front of her while she brings up her contacts to find the number to the therapist. “That’s not how it works.”

“I’m also offering you an incredibly short end to the stick,” he admits.

“Here,” she says, texting him the number. “Make sure you call.”

He picks up his own phone as it pings, squinting at the number. “They fix crazy people?”

“They help normal people,” Kiara says. “They can help you too.”

“You sure about that?” he quips, but there’s real fear behind it. Fear he can’t quite keep in check.

“Positive,” she says. “Call them, Jayj. You’ll see.”

Chapter Text

-o-

CHAPTER THREE

-o-

JJ calls the number. Right after breakfast, as promised. He’s awkward and halting, and his cheeks redden even though the receptionist on the other side of the line can’t see him at all. He fidgets and looks miserable, but when it’s done, it’s done.

“Next week,” he says with a sigh. “They offered me something today if it was, like, an emergency. But I can wait until next week.”

She doesn’t chide him on that; it would be counterproductive. The fact that JJ made the call is huge. It’s not that cancer has taught them all to be humble. It has, maybe, but that’s not what it is. Cancer has shown JJ that his vulnerability is safe. He doesn’t have to like it – and he still doesn’t – but he doesn’t have to hide it with the people he cares about.

“That’s good,” she says, and she smiles with encouragement.

He looks wholly unconvinced. “That’s what you say.”

“It is good,” she says, insisting a bit now.

“Because all those doctors saved my body, but now I need one to save my head, right?” he quips.

She doesn’t laugh, giving him a light look. “It’s not like that.”

“Yeah, it kind of is,” he says, and he doesn’t sound upset about it. He laughs a little, in fact. “But what can you do? Getting better means you try everything.”

That means therapy.

That means rounds of chemo.

That means bone marrow for the father who beat you.

Kiara swallows hard as she nods. “You try everything,” she agrees.

He draws close to her, wrapping his arm around her and kissing the top of her head. “Thanks, Kie.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she says, even as she leans into his touch.

He kisses her again. “I know better than that,” he says.

She closes her mouth, swallowing hard over the lump in her throat. JJ knows enough; he doesn’t know everything, though. He can’t.

“Anyway,” he says, pulling away with a sigh. “What are your plans for the day?”

She shrugs, not quite able to find her voice easily. “I don’t know,” she says tautly, even as she tries to sound casual. “Probably just some stuff around the house.”

He considers that with a nod. “I could do that,” he says. “I keep thinking about checking in down at the charter, but–”

“There’s no rush,” she says.

“I’m spent for today anyway,” he says. He grins tiredly. “So let’s get the house together.”

-o-

Kiara hasn’t really planned her day. Talking about housework is sort of a default; she hasn’t planned it. But she hasn’t planned any of this, and here she is. Making the most of it with JJ.

Maybe it would seem anticlimactic. All they’ve done and all they’ve been through. Did she really leave home and emancipate herself for this? Total domesticity?

Intellectually, it seems so silly. To go from treasure hunts and saving the world to making the bed and cooking dinner. She would have scoffed at the idea, like it was beneath her.

But she’d been so young. She’d been so stupid.

It’s not that she’d been wrong, necessarily, it’s just that she hadn’t known.

What it was like to live.

What it was like to love.

Her dad had told her once that she needed a boat to cross the ocean, like getting to the other side was all that mattered. She’s on the boat right now, is the thing. She has no idea where it’s going, and maybe that’s okay.

She’s loving every moment she has here, wherever the wind and waves take her.

As long as she’s with JJ.

-o-

The routine they develop is quiet, simple. It’s tentative, is what it is.

They’re both scared to live, it seems.

Scared to admit they can.

-o-

It takes time to get used to it; it takes time to believe it. To make the new routine feel normal. To wake up and live. Kiara watches as JJ regains his color, his weight, his vitality. She watches as the spark in his eyes returns.

Then one day, she hears him laugh, lines crinkling up around his eyes, and the sound fills the house with a warmth she can’t even explain.

He’s laughed more than he’s cried this week.

And that, she decides, is what recovery is supposed to be.

-o-

JJ doesn’t have any doctor’s appointments on the books, but his first appointment with the therapist is circled on the calendar. She offers to go with him, even if she’s just sitting in the waiting room, but he assures her that’s not necessary.

“It’s not a problem,” she says. “I have nothing else going on.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “I’m not sick anymore, Kie.”

The sharpness in his voice surprises her. “I didn’t say that–”

“I know, I know,” he says, and he works his jaw. “Just – God. I don’t need to be babied.”

Her mouth drops open. “I’m not–”

His eyes flash up to meet hers, and she closes her mouth.

She has to swallow. “I’m not,” she says again. Softer and more final.

“Whatever,” he says with a short, harsh sigh. “I can do this on my own is all.”

“I know,” she offers stiffly.

“I can,” he says. “I’m not sick anymore.”

There’s something needy in that. It’s not a display of strength as much as it is a reach. It’s a desperate need for reassurance.

“I know that,” she says carefully.

Something twists in his expression. He’s struggling with it, she knows. He’s struggling with being normal when nothing feels normal. He’s struggling with being healthy when his mind can’t quite believe it.

He’s struggling because he got the ever after, and neither of them are quite sure how to make it happily all the time.

He exhales heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just – nervous or whatever.”

“I get it,” she says.

“Kie, you don’t always get it,” he says, sounding exasperated now.

“I’m with you day in and day out, J,” she counters. “I think I do.”

“But that’s my point,” he says. “You’re with me day in and day out. I’m still holding you back and I’m supposed to be getting better.”

“What?” she says, downright incredulous now. “JJ, that’s not–”

“I know, I know, it’s not like that,” he says, and he shrugs. “But it kind of is. You barely go out–”

“I went out–”

“Once,” he says, and it’s barely a concession. “Because I made you. You’re cooking and cleaning, Kie. You’re not supposed to be cooking and cleaning. That’s not you.”

She scoffs, not sure how to respond. If she’s defending herself or protecting him. “It’s just a part of life.”

“A part,” he says. “But not all of it.”

Her face feels hot, and her heart is starting to pound. “We’re both figuring this out, JJ. That’s all.”

“I know,” he says again, and there’s something firm in his voice now. “And I couldn’t do it without you; I know that. But – I have to try, right?”

“What?”

He takes another breath, more measured this time. “I have to try some of it on my own, don’t I?”

She doesn’t want to say no to him. But she also doesn’t want to say yes.

It’s a funny thing, she realizes. When JJ gave her full control over his life.

She’s not sure she ever gave it back.

“You don’t have to do any of it alone,” she says. “Don’t get confused about making your own choices and doing it without help.”

“That’s fair,” he says. “But if I’m going to do this therapy shit, then I have to do it.”

“I was just offering to sit in the waiting room,” she reminds him.

He deflates just slightly, duly chagrined. “But you make it too easy,” he says. “If I’m going to do it–”

She sighs, nodding as she finally understands. “Then you need to do it,” she concludes. And she throws up her hands. “Okay, then.”

He hesitates. Having gotten what he wants, he’s clearly not sure what to do with it. “Okay?”

“I’ll be here when you get back,” she says simply.

He hesitates, like he’s waiting for more. When there’s not, he chews the inside of his lip for a second before he nods. “Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

-o-

Over the last year, Kiara has spent a lot of time in waiting rooms and doctor’s offices. In all honesty, it should be old hat by now. Waiting for JJ to finish a medical appointment. Same old, same old.

The problem is, Kiara never got good at it. You don’t get good at that shit. Waiting to see if the person you love most is going to come back to you unscathed is always a shitty deal.

This is different, and she knows it.

But she doesn’t feel it.

“I’m being stupid. I know it,” she says. She flops back on the bed, still FaceTiming with Sarah.

“You’re not,” Sarah assures her. “Worrying is normal, especially after everything.”

After nearly watching JJ die, that is.

She’s not keen to talk about her PTSD symptoms right now.

“But I know it’s fine,” she reasons more for herself than for Sarah. “JJ has been through so much worse.”

“That’s my point,” Sarah says. “You’re still primed to fear the worst.”

“He’s literally just at therapy,” she says and she rubs her hand over her face. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

“It’s just hard to let go,” Sarah says with a shrug. “Even when you really, really want to.”

“But I do,” she says, looking at the screen. “I really, really so.”

Sarah smirks at her. “Sounds like JJ isn’t the only one who needs therapy.”

“Shut up!” she says.

“I defer!” Sarah concedes.

Even though she’s right, and they both know it.

-o-

Sarah talks to her for a while, and Kiara cleans the bathroom. She scrubs and scrubs and scrubs until the tile gleams.

JJ is going to be fine.

For that matter, so is she.

The bathroom is clean, the therapy will help, and the cancer is never coming back.

They’re going to be fine.

-o-

Even so, Kiara knows that this isn’t a quick fix.

But part of her is expecting it to be.

Or at least, she’s expecting it to be something.

When JJ gets back, he’s reticent, and the more she probes, the less he seems to say. He tells her it was fine, but his entire demeanor or tense. Which is to say, the more he insists it’s fine – he’s fine – the less Kiara believes him.

She’s hesitant to push, though.

But not pushing – is kind of not her thing. She’s been so in charge of JJ’s well being for so long – she doesn’t know how to stop. “But like really,” she presses him as he pushes the noodles he made for dinner around his plate. They’re her favorite; she doesn’t know if he even likes them. “How was it?”

He sighs, pushing back a little, the plate all but forgotten. “I guess it was weird.”

That’s something, at least.

Just not much of something. She purses her lips. “Weird good?”

He looks at her, a fleeting familiarity lighting them before he withdraws. He shrugs one shoulder. “Not bad weird, I guess,” he says, but he’s mumbling it.

It’s such a familiar reparate between them that she doesn’t have the heart to challenge it. At least not really. She picks up a forkful of food and attempts to keep it light. Like she’s just making conversation, not that she’s deeply and irrevocably concerned for his well-being.

Which, for the record, she clearly is.

But still. JJ already feels boxed in, she can tell. She doesn’t need to make it worse.

“What’s it like, anyway?” she asks, nonchalant as she can. She takes the bite of noodles for good measure.

He wrinkles his nose, picking up his fork again with a half-hearted gesture. “I don’t know,” he says. “It’s just therapy, right?”

That’s wonderfully uninformative, but she tries not to be annoyed. “Well, it’s different for everyone,” she ventures instead.

She’s trying to be nice here, and he’s being either necessarily or willfully obtuse. “We just – whatever,” he says, and he huffs about it like he’s annoyed. “We talk and shit. Whatever.”

Kiara is pretty sure that asking what they talk about is a no-go. JJ’s bad attitude is probably an issue his therapist has to work through – not her. And if he’s struggling this much in therapy, the last thing she wants to do is make his free time just as stressful.

Which means she has to ease up.

That’s no easy task, to be sure. Kiara doesn’t want to ease up. The entire time JJ’s been sick, she’s been on her A game. She’s been on top of everything, every last detail. There’s a reason JJ trusts her with everything – including his life.

It’s a responsibility she takes seriously.

It’s a responsibility she doesn’t know how to give up, honestly.

“I liked it when I did,” she says.

He glances at her and she grins a little. “The guy would ask me these questions, and every time I got to tell him how much my parents were to blame,” she says.

JJ looks vaguely interested by that, perking up to her story. “Yeah?”

“Totally,” she says. “And then during family sessions, he was always telling my dad it was my turn to talk and his turn to listen and it pissed him off so bad.”

“I imagine Mike didn’t love that,” JJ says, starting to grin now.

“He did not,” Kiara confirms, and she chuckles. “I’m pretty sure we didn’t make it more than three months with that dude because my dad could not stand being told to shut up every week.”

“So it’s not total bullshit,” JJ snarks, and he’s at least unfurled a little. His smile is looser and he actually takes a bit of food.

“And if we’d stuck with it – if he’d actually tried – it might have worked,” Kiara says, and she takes a bite of her own.

JJ considers that, chewing slowly and swallowing. He washes the bite down with a swig of water. “I am trying, you know,” he says suddenly.

She stops, not sure what to do with the quiet sincerity in his voice. It’s like he needs her to know.

And she does. She does know.

“I know,” she says softly. “JJ, of course I know.”

He looks down again, chewing his lip. “I promised you before I was going to get better,” he says, and he lifts his eyes to look at her. He nods. “And I’m going to get better.”

She smiles, warmly and reassuringly. “I’ve never doubted it for a moment.”

-o-

The appointments are twice a week to start, which Kiara is surprised by. Her parents had taken her to therapy on and off throughout her teen years, both individually and in family therapy, and those sessions had been weekly – and then biweekly – and then she’d stopped going altogether, when she decided she didn’t want to talk to her parents.

Her first instinct is to worry, of course. That JJ may be worse off than she’d feared to require that much intervention. She bites back the worries, though, for JJ’s sake. He’s already struggling and skeptical. To express doubt to him now would undermine the whole process.

If he needs twice a week, the last thing she should be doing is making him want to quit.

Even so, it concerns her.

He concerns her.

Therapy seems to stress him out. He comes home restless and fitful, and he’s more argumentative and defensive than before. His answers are short and snippy, and he seems to be withdrawing more than he had before.

At coffee with the girls, they are quick to reassure her.

“It’s not uncommon,” Sarah says. “It’s a getting to know you period. They’re both acclimatizing.”

Kiara appreciates the thought, but finds herself not fully convinced.

“And so what?” Cleo is the one to point out. “No one thinks twice about going to cancer treatment, but we’re going to question therapy?”

Sarah nods vigorously before Kiara can muster up a doubt. “She’s right,” she says. “There’s no stigma. Especially not with us.”

She sighs, looking dejectedly at her cooling coffee. “It’s not that exactly,” she says, but has to hesitate. She’s not sure what it is, then. “I just want him to be okay.”

Cleo looks totally nonplussed. “Sounds like his therapist does, too.”

“But I just — I don’t know,” she falters, fiddling with the straw on her tumbler. “We worked so hard to get him healthy, and he’s taking this so hard. I just want him to be happy and healthy, you know?”

Sarah nods sympathetically. “We all do,” she says. “Sometimes it has to get worse before it gets better.”

“He can’t hide the issues for once, and that’s hard,” Cleo agrees. Her own drink is nearly gone. “But he’s doing it the right way.”

She finally takes a drink, trying to let herself be convinced. “I guess,” she says. “I’m just so tired of seeing him struggle. Like come on. He deserves a break.”

Sarah smiles gently. “You believed he would beat cancer,” she reminds her. “So believe he’ll beat this too. Soon he’ll get better.”

Soon, she tells herself as she finishes her coffee.

Soon.

-o-

But not soon enough.

Two weeks go by and JJ’s mood continues to worsen. He’s increasingly sullen and distant, and he’s evasive about everything or prone to snapping at her questions. She tolerates it with gentle reminders that she’s just here to support him, and he comes back around, but it doesn’t last.

In fact, after two weeks, Kiara is just about fed up. She’s either going to kick JJ out to John B’s for the night or call up the therapist herself and demand reparations.

And when JJ gets pissy about the load of laundry she hasn’t gotten done, she’s really had enough.

“Pretty sure you can do the laundry too,” she says.

He scoffs. “Along with cooking and dishes,” he snipes. “Not to mention I’m the only one bringing in money.”

It hits a nerve, and a raw one. She recoils and goes stiff because no. Hell no. “Excuse me? Who gave up everything to help you out the past year? Because I sure as hell wasn’t paid for being here for you 24/7.”

She’s hitting below the belt and she knows it. He hurt her, and she’s going to hurt him. She sees it, the pain as it flashes in his eyes. Before the blue hardens into something worse.

“You want a prize, Kie?” he says cuttingly. “I think you secretly loved it, having me weak and vulnerable. I did anything you said, and I’m not sure you like the fact that I’m my own person again because what can you do with your power trip now?”

It feels like a punch to the gut, and her next breath is strangled. She gave up so much of herself. She put him first every time. And to have it thrown back at her hurts.

JJ’s not the only one who gets mean when he’s angry.

“Screw you, JJ,” she says sharply, eyes igniting. “I have been nothing but supportive of you.”

“Controlling is more like it,” he seethes, face set so hard it looks like he could shatter. “Telling me what to do and how to do it. This therapy shit is all you.”

Her eyes are burning now. “Because you’re having panic attacks and literally can’t function,” she snaps back, harsh and unrelenting. “If you don’t want to be treated pathetically, don’t be pathetic.”

She’s hit him hard where it hurts now, and she sees his resolve crumble before he pieces it back together with a ragged breath. “You should just leave then,” he says. His expression turns as mean as she’s seen it. “Go back to your parents and see how you like that. Because you’re still the dumb shit kid who never saw that they loved you and were stupid enough to cut them out for trying. You belonged in Kitty Hawk. I should have left you there.”

She pulls back, rigid with her emotion. “Yeah, JJ, I guess you should have.”

She waits, standing there and staring, waiting for him to take it back. He stiffens as well, though and stands his ground. Eyes like flint, back ramrod straight. He doesn’t give an inch.

And fine. Okay. Fine.

“I’m done,” she says abruptly and stalks past JJ. “I’m done.”

She sees his expression fall as she passes, and the tension ripples in the air behind her as she charges blindly to the bedroom. Her heart is thrumming now, and she can feel the pulse in her head as her vision threatens to tunnel and her throat goes tight.

This isn’t happening

This–

She’s done.

She has to be done.

All the time, all the effort. All the worry, all the tears.

She’s done.

“Kie,” JJ says, trailing behind her. He sounds like he’s a million miles away, and she can’t bring herself to look around. “Kie, stop–”

She doesn’t, though. She’s made her way to the dresser, and she opens one of the draws, collecting the first garments she sees.

“Kie, please,” he says, and he’s pleading now, but she still can’t make herself look at him.

She turns and grabs a backpack instead, one by the wall under the window. She opens it up and starts shoving in the clothes before turning back to the dresser for more. She needs underwear and socks and shirts and–

“Kiara!” he says, and just like that, he’s grabbing her arm.

The contact startles her, and she pulls back with a gasp, looking at him for the first time. His grip is tighter than she expects, and she has to yank it back. “Let me go–”

The look on her face seems to scare him, and his grip goes slack. His mouth is open, but no more words come out. He looks crestfallen, like the entire thing has collapsed in on itself.

Like he’s collapsed in on himself.

All she can do, though, is stare in shock. At JJ, her JJ. Losing his temper, being an asshole. Hitting below the belt, grabbing her.

The boy she loves.

The boy she saved.

She doesn’t know what it means anymore. To give up her whole life for him, for this.

The shock is pressing in all on sides, swelling up from inside her, and she can’t move, can’t think, can’t breathe–

And JJ breaks first.

He doesn’t just break.

Shit, he shatters.

Stepping back, he looks dazed, and he takes another unsteady step before his legs just give out. He catches himself on the bed while Kiara is still too numb to move, and when he inhales, it sounds all wrong.

The next breath is even worse, and she realizes belatedly he’s having a panic attack.

“JJ,” she says, crossing over to him. The shock – her anger, her fear – are all secondary. She can’t help herself if it’s still about him. Habit, love – it’s all she knows. “JJ, you have to breathe–”

She presses a hand on his back, and she can feel how badly he’s shaking. “Kie, I’m sorry–” he starts, hitching and desperately. The next breath is nothing but a keening noise. He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

He’s on the verge of passing out, and Kiara doesn’t think she can do that again. So she helps him drop his head forward, pushing it down between his legs while he takes gasping, railing breaths.

“Easy,” she coaches, rubbing his back while he heaves for air and trembles. “Just breathe.”

He does, slowly, surely, and the breathing starts to ease. He’s still trembling, but he finally sits up, pale and shaky as he looks at her.

And his face breaks again, cheeks streaked with tears, as he looks away again. His blonde hair has grown in substantially, but it’s not as long as it used to be, leaving him with nowhere to hide as he inhales deeply and lets it out.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He closes his eyes for a moment before opening them again, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“No one does,” she says gently. “That’s why it’s therapy, right?”

He shakes his head again, fingers knuckle white as he clutches the end of the bed, head still bowed. “The therapist just keeps asking all these questions. Nonstop questions,” he says. His breathing staggers and he visibly swallows. “And I don’t know any of the answers.”

He’s so upset that she wants to keep on with the comfort, but JJ’s doing too much work for her not to put some in, too. If he’s going to stay with this, he might need some help, and she knows JJ well enough to tell that he’s looking for some way to keep going. “Well, what kind of questions?” she asks.

JJ may sigh, but he clearly is ready to answer. “About what I’m feeling and shit,” he said, and he moves his hands to fiddle with his rings. His brow is deeply furrowed. “Like the things that bother me. And when they started bothering me.”

She’s waiting for more, because at first blush, that hardly seems like a difficult thing. “Well, these aren’t right or wrong things. You can’t answer them wrong.”

He looks at her now, color flourishing in his cheeks. “But I’m an idiot, Kiara,” he says, voice laden with self-loathing. He shrugs helplessly. “I’ve been a mess my whole life, and I didn’t even have a clue.”

She understands now. JJ’s not struggling to be honest. He’s struggling to even conceptualize his own trauma. He’s barely allowed himself to fully admit the range of things that have happened to him, so the questions fluster him. He’s having to process it for maybe the first time ever.

He shakes his head, utterly miserable. “I mean, what the hell is wrong with me? I was getting my ass kicked since I was five, and I thought it was my fault,” he says. “My dad told me I was a piece of shit, and I believed him. Kiara, I hardly ever doubted him. I just thought it was legit.”

The admission is perhaps one of the most heartbreaking things she’s ever heard. Physical abuse is hard enough. The emotional trauma of it, though. That JJ was conditioned his entire life to accept it.

Shit, Luke Maybank is a terrible person.

Whenever she’s tempted to buy into his redemption without reservation, she has to remind himself of the carnage he’s wrought. And the aftermath that is still unfolding for JJ every single day of his life.

“JJ,” she says, moving a hand to his back now because she can’t stop herself. “That’s the kind of stuff your therapist will understand.”

He exhales, and it’s heavy like a half sob as he looks down again, bowed forward. “I know she understands, and that just makes it worse,” he says. He runs his hand through his hair again and swallows. He can’t look at her again, and she can see that he’s crying. “I’m an idiot and I’m pathetic–”

“No,” she interjects firmly. “JJ, that’s not what is going on here.”

His next breath is shaky. “I know, I know,” he says, rubbing his hand over his face while his voice wavers. “I just – I don’t know if I can do this.”

She keeps her hand on his back, unwilling to let it go. “You just have to try,” she says. “That’s how it gets better. You just put in the work, and that’s what you’re doing.”

He can’t seem to pull his hands away from his face. “But what if I can’t do it?” he says with another ragged sob. “What if I can’t be fixed? What if I’m just broken?”

And she feels her heart just break. It shatters there in her chest, and it’s all she can do to keep herself composed for his sake. Because this isn’t about her. It can’t be about her right now. Not when it’s so clearly about JJ. “JJ–”

He’s losing control now. His breathing starts to quicken and she sees the emotions getting the better of him. It’s slipping from him, and he’s right on the cusp of another panic attack unless Kiara can reel this back in – and fast.

“JJ,” she says again, this time with surety. She moves her hand, cupping his face and lifting it to face her. The fringe of his bangs covers his face so she uses her other hand to smooth the hair back until his blue eyes are locked with hers. “JJ, therapy isn’t about fixing you.”

He’s still breathing erratically, and she can practically feel the tension vibrating beneath his skin as he trembles.

“Therapy is about giving you the support you need and deserve,” she says. “Support you should have had all along.”

It’s too much. The intimacy, the emotion. The truth of it all. JJ’s next breath breaks on a sob, and he collapses in on himself, curling inward until Kiara catches him and pulls him to her. He doesn’t try to hold the next sob back, and he cries into her shoulder, and she laces her fingers up into his hair, rubbing a hand down his back as she soothes him.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, JJ,” she says. “I swear to God, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“That’s not what it feels like,” he says, face still buried in her shoulder. “I should have just let the cancer kill me. I don’t know why I’m still here because I can’t even get my head screwed on right and–”

“JJ, don’t say that,” she says, her own breath catching now. Her eyes are stinging, too, and her chest feels tight. “JJ, never say that.”

“My mama knew,” he sobs. “That’s why she left. That’s why my dad hated me every time he looked at me. That’s why he couldn’t love me. Because there’s something wrong with me.”

He’s spiraling – so hard, so fast, so out of control – that Kiara knows she can’t reel him back. She can’t talk him out of it. She can’t reason with him or calm him down. All she can do is hold on until it’s over – and hope there’s still enough of him left to put back together again.

His litany of self-hate picks up, and she squeezes him tighter, using physical touch to ground them both. With the next sob, he can’t form coherent words, and the mumbled string of invectives is lost between his cries. She holds him tighter as his body flails again, and when he tries to pull away, she still doesn’t let go. She holds fast until he stops fighting, until his body goes limp, until he sags against her, and the tears finally stop.

He’s left there, spent and hiccuping in her arms. She holds on longer still, reaching up to stroke his hair until he’s finally given in completely.

“Here,” she says softly, daring to lift her head just slightly. He’s slumped against her, and she presses a kiss to the top of his blonde head. “Why don’t you lay down?”

He doesn’t resist her anymore, and as she eases him back, he falls to the bed willingly. It takes some work, since he stays slack limbed and boneless, before she can get him comfortably on the bed. Ultimately, she doesn’t bother fiddling with the sheets and covers. Instead, she lays down next to him, curling her body up next to him and pressing against him, letting her warmth cover him.

Her fingers trace along the shell of his ear, and she can see the thrumming of his pulse in the vein on his neck. It’s still real to her; that she almost lost him. There are moments she knows it acutely, how precarious this is. How precarious they are.

She fought for him in the hospital. She fought for him every step of the cancer treatment.

She will fight for him every day for the rest of her life.

“JJ, you didn’t deserve to die,” she says, and her voice is no more than a whisper given their proximity. He shudders just slightly, but she doesn’t stop. “You haven’t deserved any of it. Not cancer, and certainly not what your parents did to you. Not your mom. Not your dad. None of it.”

Because someone can seek forgiveness. Someone can even make amends.

But that doesn’t undo the trauma.

Luke’s personal redemption doesn’t mean shit for JJ.

“I promise,” she says. “None of this is your fault. The things you’re struggling with were done to you, and they weren’t fair.”

His next breath is a little ragged. For a second, she feels him tense up like he might cry again, but he swallows hard and seems to get himself in check. “I know – I think,” he says. He blinks a few times, and a tear snakes out from his eye, dripping down silently to his hair. “It’s just so hard sometimes. It’s like I can’t breathe again.”

“I know,” she says without hesitation. “And you trusted me there, right?”

He doesn’t make an acknowledgement, but he doesn’t deny it either.

“So trust me now,” she continues. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to get over this. We’re going to get over this together.”

He looks at her finally, wet eyes and face just barely composed. “I’m scared, Kie. Everytime I go to therapy, I have to face how terrified I am.”

Not anger. Not frustration. Not even resentment.

Fear.

In the end, JJ is still a scared little boy, cowering in the corner, because the world has beat him down so many times. He learned to stop getting up.

So Kiara will stand with him. Even when he fights her.

Especially when he fights her.

“I know,” she says. “But you’re not doing it alone anymore.”

His face threatens to break again. “But – I’m so shitty to you–”

“You had a shitty moment,” she corrects.

“I’m sorry–”

He’s going to cry again, so she lifts her hands and smooths his hair back from his face. “I know, I know,” she says.

He sighs, leaning into her touch finally. “Why do you bother? You should just cut me loose.”

“I chose you, JJ. I have no idea what the hell is going on with anything else, but I chose you,” she says steadily.

“And you think you can’t change your mind?” he quips. “No one would blame you.”

“I’m staying, JJ,” she assures him, resting her head on his shoulder.

He sighs, tipping his head against hers in something like defeat. “I can’t talk you out of it, can I?”

“Nope,” she says. “So don’t waste your energy.”

Because she’s not always sure she knows why she left her parents.

But she knows why she’s here.

She’s not figured out who she is yet, but she knows who JJ is. And that’s enough.

For now, that’s more than enough.

-o-

She holds JJ for quite some time, and he passes out early on the bed and sleeps through until morning. Kiara thinks she should get up and get ready for bed herself, but she can’t bring herself to leave. She stays next to JJ instead, arms wrapped around him instead, offering comfort as much as she is taking it for herself.

Sleep doesn’t come easy, but the night is quiet and still. In the morning, JJ is still shaky, but he’s better. He gets up and gets ready for the day. He’s quiet about it, and he may avoid eye contact, but he doesn’t avoid her. When she stops him, he stills for her, and he lets her raise his chin until they’re eye to eye.

“I love you,” she says, because she thinks she needs to say.

She thinks he needs to hear it.

He swallows and nods, blinking hard but not looking away. He gathers a breath and seems to find the courage to reply, “I love you, too.”

So yeah.

It’s better

-o-

One day becomes two days. And two days become three. A week, two weeks. Three.

A month passes, and parts of it are hard. JJ struggles with the emotions he doesn’t know how to face, and Kiara oscillates between controlling too much and being too indulgent. Some days are wonderful, peaceful and fun and full of laughter. Some days are hard, and JJ’s moody and restless, and Kiara thinks she may go crazy in these four walls.

Some days are the worst, so bad that Kiara has to call in John B to help JJ get his shit together.

Some days are the best, when JJ is healthy and happy and whole.

Cancer had been a timeline and odds.

What they face is no less difficult, but the timeline is theirs.

And the odds are theirs to defy every step of the way.

-o-

JJ may go to therapy twice a week, but there’s still a lot of time. He’s starting checking in with the charter more, helping out with the office work and accompanying Cleo on a tour or two. He’s cautious about it; slow. Like he’s not sure he’s ready.

Kiara’s fine with that. Honestly, she’s not sure she’s ready either.

She hates it so much when he leaves that she almost always goes with him. If she’s being real, she just wants him to stay here with her forever.

It’s not like there’s not shit to do. JJ has taken up cooking, and he’s keeping house like an old pro. He starts to notice the unfinished projects in earnest, and he seems set to start them again.

“Not that you didn’t do a good job,” he says to her.

She’s looking at the uneven paint line across the ceiling where she threw up neon paint in the kitchen and bites her lip. “I did a horrible job.”

“What? No!” he says, looking at her in dismay. “I love it.”

She rolls her eyes. “I was just distracting myself,” she says. “I messed up your hard work.”

He shakes his head, like he just won’t hear of it. “No, you made it ours.”

She’d argue if she thought it would do anything.

She’d argue if she wanted him to be wrong.

She’d argue if the answer didn’t make her love him even more.

-o-

All the same, he starts with the projects. He doesn’t touch her work, but he fixes the little things. And he finishes the things she couldn’t.

Not hers. Not his.

Theirs.

Their home. Their family. Their future.

She likes the way that sounds.

-o-

In general, Kiara is confident JJ is telling her everything.

She concedes, however, that maybe he isn’t telling her every version of everything. The facts, she knows, can be parsed a multitude of ways. She suspects JJ offers her a rose-colored version when he can.

It’s when he’s with John B that she gets a glimpse of something more.

It’s a bad habit, and she knows it. Listening in on JJ’s conversation with John B had started out as a necessity. During his treatment, she’d needed to stay close, she’d needed to know. She’d told herself JJ had signed over his life to her, there was nothing worth hiding anyway.

She’s not sure that still holds true.

But JJ doesn’t attempt to hide his conversations.

And Kiara doesn’t try to step away from them either.

To be fair, she’s not listening the whole time. John B comes over to help JJ with some wood out in the shed – for one of the endless house projects – and Kiara is inside, reading a book. She hears them come back in, snagging some beers from the fridge, before settling out on the porch.

The day is warm, but Kiara likes the open air. JJ is used to it – living without air conditioning – so even though the house is fully equipped, they run it as little as possible. For the environment, Kiara insists. For her wholesome communion with nature. For her aura.

For the sound of JJ’s voice on the wind as he laughs with his best friend.

“I don’t know,” JJ says. “I just feel like I’m not making any progress.”

“Well, you have, like, 20 thousand projects,” John B says.

“Home ownership!” JJ crows. “It’s a nonstop job.”

“Yeah, I’m also a homeowner, and I don’t do nearly this much work,” John B replies.

JJ scoffs. “Well, some of us are responsible homeowners.”

“Or you’re just a crazy person,” he says.

“I just want it all done right,” JJ says.

“So, you’re a control freak,” John B concludes.

Kiara chuckles to herself, keeping just quiet enough to make herself inconspicuous. She’s not hiding the fact that she’s listening; she’s not advertising it either.

“I know contractors, dude,” JJ says. “You can’t trust them. They will all cheat you one way or another, every last one of them.”

“Yeah, they cheat you so bad when they do the work so you don’t have to,” John B jokes.

“Look, just because we’ve got extra funds now doesn’t mean we should be rolling over like some Kook,” JJ says.

“I know, and I mostly agree,” John B says, pausing to take a swig of his drink audibly. “But I’m all for saving a little time. The money buys us leisure, right?”

“I guess,” JJ says, as if the admission somehow puts him out. As if he’s not the kid who got high and drunk in a hot tub and opined about luxury at 16. “But there’s still shit I’m going to do.”

“And hey, I’m here, helping you, man,” John B reminds him.

They sit for a second, lapsing into silence, and Kiara starts reading again, thinking maybe that’s that. But JJ’s voice cuts into the scene again.

“I just have so much to do,” he laments. “Like, sometimes I don’t know how to keep track of it. If I’ll ever get it done.”

“Eh,” John B says dismissively. “I mean, whatever, right? You have the time, bro.”

There’s a pause, but this one’s not fraught with emotion. When JJ responds, he sounds almost amused. “I really do, don’t I?”

Because it’s a novelty. After a cancer that nearly killed him. After a childhood that nearly made him give up entirely. JJ has a future. JJ has time to live.

To think, a few weeks ago, JJ had been having a meltdown.

Today, he’s starting to believe.

Kiara smiles to herself as she goes back to her book.

Something is working, it seems.

No, everything is working.

-o-

So, it makes no sense, right? If JJ is healthy, and if therapy is helping – if life is going back to normal and everyone is fine –

Then why the hell is Kiara not okay?

Because she is okay. Most of the time. Usually, she’s the strong one. She’s the one keeping JJ on track and together. She’s poised and controlled, and Kiara is just fine. If she keeps busy, if she keeps active, if she keeps herself focused–

It’s fine.

That’s what she’s trying to do, anyway. Every moment of every day. She wakes up planning; she goes to sleep planning. She’s in the shower, thinking about what needs to get done. The chores around the house. The things for JJ.

She needs to change the sheet and empty the dryer vent. She has to double check the lingering bills from insurance, and she’s bookmarked a few article about post-traumatic stress she wants to read, and–

And it’s too much.

And it’s not enough.

And it’s everything and nothing and oh shit.

The weight of it all suddenly becomes more than she can handle, and it feels like she’s going to collapse right there in the shower. The force of the water is unrelenting, and she has to blink her way through it as her vision starts to tunnel. She can’t breathe, she realizes dimly.

She can’t–

Think–

Breathe–

Shit, shit, shit.

The world seems to shift, as if the axis has been pointed in the wrong direction, and she’s not sure if she’s still standing or if she’s there at all.

Her next breath is strangled, and things start to go black. She pitches forward, just barely catching herself on the wall of the shower, as she dimly blinks away the water. She shudders as she takes another breath, and then she realizes she’s crying.

With another gulping sob, she tries to squelch it out. She tries to clamp it down, hard and fast. It takes her time – seconds, minutes, she doesn’t know – before she gets it back under control and she’s still standing there, wet and wrinkly, by the time she gets her shit back together.

She knows what that was.

Shit, she knows all the symptoms by heart.

She’s just had a panic attack of her very own.

JJ panics with the control he lost. And here she is, panicking with the control she’s afraid to let go of. She’s not wrong about JJ, but he’s also not wrong about her.

She can’t let him know, though. Part of her scolds herself for maintaining the power imbalance that is pushing them both to the brink, but she can’t do that to JJ. His recovery is so nascent, so precarious. She won’t do anything to put that at risk. He’s got to tackle his own well-being.

Then he can worry about her.

But – not yet.

For now, she needs to do this on her own.

With another slow, deliberate breath, she turns off the water. She stands there, dripping for a few seconds, and running a hand through her wet locks. She has to get herself together – and now. She has to do it for JJ.

Her breathing is back to normal when she climbs out of the shower. She towels herself dry and looks in the mirror. You almost can’t tell – her face is a little pale, her eyes are a little red – but you almost can’t tell.

At first glance, Kiara looks exactly the way she intends: like she’s fine.

Like everything is fine.

-o-

It is fine. It is.

Kiara can’t think of a single reason why it’s not fine. JJ is healthy. They have a productive business. They have all the money they could want. The house is coming together beautifully. They have freedom and independence and each other.

But Kiara still can’t sleep. She lays awake, rolled over on the pillow, turned toward JJ just to watch him breathe. She used to watch in case of a nightmare; and now she’s just watching for the rise and fall or his chest.

She hates being away from him.

She hates the idea of closing her eyes and waking up to find he’s not there.

Life is delicate; life is fragile. Its impermanence is terrifying.

So she watches him breathe.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

-o-

Now that cancer treatment is over and JJ is in remission, Kiara has committed herself to returning to normal. She’s not sure what normal is, to be honest. Her life had changed so dramatically and so quickly before JJ got sick – she hadn’t even had the chance.

In the aftermath, she feels like she’s just flailing.

She puts up a good front, though.

At least, most of the time she does. It’s wearing thin, she fears. She’s wearing thin. As if the last 18 months have caught up with her, and now she’s trying to live a life she doesn’t even know how to define. She’s trying to be someone she doesn’t recognize. If it weren’t for JJ, she might not put up the effort. But if she doesn’t do something, he’ll plan it for her, so she does the best she can to go through the motions.

It’s supposed to be fun; it’s supposed to be easy.

And some days, it is.

Other days, Kiara just doesn’t want to. At all.

This is one of those days.

The coffee shop is unusually slow that day — and crowded. The barista gets her order wrong, and they get stuck in a tiny booth that’s too close to the door.

Sarah and Cleo don’t seem to notice. If anything, Sarah is in a better mood than usual, and Cleo is perkier than normal. They chat at length about work and the backorder of new t-shirts. Cleo has a long rant about the price of fuel, and apparently John B is being a bit of a turd for reasons that are too aggravating to listen to.

By the time they finally finish their coffee, she’s ready to get the hell out. But then Sarah says, “Oh, hey! I need to pick up some stuff. Who’s up for shopping?”

The answer is obviously not her at all, but to her surprise Cleo is enthusiastic. “Definitely,” she says. “I actually was looking for a few items, and could use a few second opinions.”

Sarah looks thrilled by this. “I have nothing but opinions,” she says. “Kie, what can we look for for you?”

It’s too much, suddenly. The bad coffee, the crowded shop. The pressure to be, be, be.

“Nothing,” she says sharply. “I don’t even want to be here, much less go shopping. So – nothing!”

The words are out before she can stop them, and the emotion is too raw to bring back into check. She only finds some semblance of self control by the blank look on Cleo’s face – and the pang of hurt on Sarah’s.

Which – she’s not trying to hurt her friends. She’s not.

She just – doesn’t know how to do this today.

Sometimes she’s not sure how to do it all.

“Guys–”

“You could have just said no,” Cleo observes wryly.

Sarah is immediately cool in her demeanor. “And if you don’t want to get coffee anymore–”

“No, that’s not it,” Kiara says, scrambling to make it better.

“Pretty sure it is,” Cleo points out candidly.

Sarah purses her lips, gathering her things. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Kiara says, feeling at a loss as Cleo gets up, too. “I just – I’m tired.”

“Kie, you don’t have to explain it,” Sarah says.

“Or maybe it’s best you didn’t,” Cleo suggests. “Until you’re feeling a bit calmer.”

They’re trying to give her an out, is the terrible thing. Kiara snapped at them; she was rude and insufferable – they’re trying to make nice with her.

“I just haven’t felt like myself,” Kiara tries to explain, getting up to follow them out.

“Oh, we’ve noticed,” Sarah says. “You haven’t been yourself for two years.”

It’s not a point Kiara wants to admit, but it’s not invalid. She’s still trailing behind them as they make their way out the door.

“I’m sorry–” she starts.

Sarah comes to a stop first, turning to face her. She collects a breath and composes herself. “I get it. I do,” she says. “It’s been hard, and I know it. But we’re on your side, Kie. We’ve been here every step of the way.”

“I know,” Kiara says, because she does. She knows everything. She knows how much they’ve all given up for JJ.

And not just for JJ.

For her, too.

It’s been about her, too.

“I’m a mess,” she admits finally because she doesn’t have any other excuse. “I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“You think we don’t know that?” Cleo asks her pointedly.

“You think that might be why we insist on coffee every week?” Sarah follows up. “You don’t have to go shopping, Kie. That’s fine. But you have to start finding yourself again.”

“You could try therapy,” Cleo suggests, and she’s been unironic about it all. “JJ raves about it.”

-o-

She’s quiet on the way back, and when they pull into the drive, she apologizes again. For losing her temper, for being an asshole. For everything.

“Kie, stop apologizing,” Sarah says from the driver’s seat.

In the passenger’s seat, Kiara doesn’t know how to believe her. “But–”

“Oh, please,” Cleo chimes in from the back. “We’re not mad.”

Sarah inclines her head a little. “Or at least we get it.”

It’s a level of grace she’s not sure she deserves. It’s a level of grace she clearly needs.

“But, girl,” Cleo says. “Consider the therapy, yeah?”

Kiara nods, small and uncertain. “Yeah.”

Sarah draws a breath and settles it. “So,” she says, giving Kiara a purposeful look. “Will we see you next week?”

Kiara’s shoulder slump. She’s embarrassed and relieved at the question. That they have to ask; that they’re willing to ask. “Of course.”

Sarah lifts her brows and stares Kiara down a bit. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Kiara insists now, hating that she has to prove her point so firm.

“You’re not going to tell us how stupid we are?” Sarah asks, and it’s a little mean, but Kiara deserves it.

“I would never–” she starts.

Their hard stares make her catch herself. She reddens. “I would never do it again,” she amends finally. She looks at them both in turn. “You’re my girls, and I love you. I wouldn’t still be here without you.”

“Damn right you wouldn’t,” Cleo says.

“I’ll text you later,” Sarah says. “Show you what we bought.”

Kiara smiles in relief and takes the olive branch for what it is. “I’d love to see it.”

-o-

Kiara is slow to go inside, turning around and waving at the porch and before going in the door. She knows that Sarah and Cleo are fine, but just makes it work. Because Kiara’s not fine, and she’s not sure why she can’t get her shit together.

It’s just that life is hard. Sometimes all the emotions she has have nowhere to go. Sometimes she can’t make sense of who she is or what she wants, and it all comes out wrong. Sometimes she wishes she’d followed her parents plan and gone away to school, so she’d be off studying and partying and saving the world.

She feels guilty the moment she thinks it, the possibility of what she gave up. She doesn’t want it, and she knows it. She doesn’t have regret, necessarily – but she’s just not sure. Is this what she wants? Is this what she dreamed when she emancipated herself? She has no job; she still has the same friends she had in high school. What has she done with her life?

She’s saved JJ, she reminds herself.

She’s saved him.

And that’s everything.

Inside the house, JJ is vacuuming. When he sees her, he turns it off with a grin. “Hey!” he says. “How are the girls?”

She tries to smile, but it’s hard to muster up, and by the time she gets her shit together, JJ has already noticed.

“What is it?” he asks, abandoning the vacuum. “Is everything okay?”

She takes a breath, and it’s wet and ragged. “They’re fine,” she says, but no matter what she does, she can’t keep herself composed.

He crosses over to her, drawing her into a hug. “Hey,” he says, soothingly now. “You’re okay.”

In his arms, it’s easier to cry, and she buries her face in his shoulder. He rubs her back as she sobs for a moment, before running his hands through her hair. “Did something happen?” he asks, sounding concerned. “What’s wrong?”

She gulps for air, shaking her head. “Nothing happened,” she says. “I just – I don’t know–”

He cups her face, lifting her eyes to meet his. “Kiara,” he says. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” she admits in the end, because she can’t do it any more. She can’t pretend. She can’t hide. “I don’t know anymore.”

-o-

JJ holds her until she’s done crying, and then he holds her longer just because. He gives her another cup of coffee, and curls up with her on the couch as the emotions fade down and she’s able to breathe once more.

She can see the question in his eyes but he doesn’t ask her what happened. Instead, he focuses on making her smile, telling shitty jokes and the same dumb stories as always.

“Oh,” he says, after they’re settled comfortably and she’s let herself relax in his arms. “I was going to ask you something.”

“Mm?” she says, tipping her head against him languidly.

“Sheila – my therapist – wants us to do a joint session,” she says.

Kiara stiffens for a second. The request is ironic, and she knows it, after what Cleo and Sarah had just talked about in the car.

JJ continues easily. “She thinks you’re such a big part of my life that talking to us both might help.”

She looks up at him, concerned. “But I thought therapy was going well.”

He blinks back at her in surprise. “It is,” he says. “But, like, that’s not a one-time thing. I’m not supposed to compartmentalize my shit, so she thinks bringing in my family will help. I might ask John B sometime, too.”

He says it easy-like, which helps unfurl some of her tension. He’s not asking because of her meltdown; he’s asking as part of his therapy. It’s about JJ.

She can do that.

She can help JJ.

“Yeah,” she agrees, settling against him once more. “I can do that.”

He plants a kiss in her hair. “Thanks, Kie,” he says, pulling her closer still. “You’re the best.”

She loves that he thinks that, honestly.

She just wished she believed it was true.

-o-

She can do it. She can.

But as the appointment approaches, she’s gripped with the reality that she doesn’t want to. She entertains excuses not to go, but JJ is taking it so seriously, he’s doing the work, and Kiara can’t bring herself to let him down.

That’s how she ends up in the office, sitting on the couch next to JJ with a fake smile plastered on her face. Most people buy it.

The fake smile JJ’s therapist offers back at her suggests that this may be a long session, though.

“I’m so glad you could make it, Kiara,” the therapist says with an abundance of niceties.

“Well, I’d do anything for JJ,” she says, and she looks at him.

He grins back. “I told you, Sheila,” JJ says. “Kie’s awesome.”

“JJ does talk about you a lot,” Sheila agrees, and she taps her pen errantly on her notepad.

Well, that’s not awkward. Kiara does her best not to show it, though. Her parents were Kooks; faking shit is what they do in social situations.

“Therapy usually works best with a cohesive approach,” Sheila explains. “People don’t live in isolation, so the more people who are involved, the better.”

It’s the same kind of shit Kiara remembers from family therapy. And she knows there’s truth to it, and for JJ – she reminds herself. For JJ, she’ll do what’s necessary.

“And I’ve got a lot of shit to work out,” JJ says with a nod. He looks from Sheila to Kiara brightly. “But we’re working on it, right, Kie?”

“Right,” Kiara says, and she reaches over and takes JJ’s hand with a squeeze. She looks back at Sheila with renewed confidence. “JJ’s come a very long way.”

“But it’s not just JJ, right?” Sheila asks. She tips her head to the side, eyes on Kiara. “You’ve both been through something extremely traumatic. Post traumatic stress is common for patients and their close family members.”

“Oh, I’ve been fine,” Kiara says almost without thinking. “It’s had its moments, but JJ’s doing so much better–”

“But like getting back to normal,” JJ says, and he looks so damn earnest it hurts. “Like both of us. Trying to go out with friends. Going to the store. I mean, full time work.”

Kiara’s mouth goes suddenly very dry. Deflecting Sheila is one thing. JJ, though?

It feels like someone has taken her heart and squeezed it. Her smile grows thinner than before. “Well, for 18 months it was like living another life,” Kiara explains. The words feel funny, like her lips are numb. “Sometimes, I’m not sure what normal even is.”

JJ squeezes her hand back. “And it happened so fast, you know?” he says. “Like, one day we got the gold and all our dreams came true. Before I even had a chance to process that, I was in chemotherapy.”

Before Kiara even knew who she wanted to be, she’d been relegated to a hospital waiting room. Before she even got the chance to define her life, cancer had defined it for her. You can emancipate yourself from your parents, but there’s no legal framework to divorce yourself from cancer. There’s just not.

Sheila is nodding along in agreement. She flicks her eyes to Kiara. “What about you?

“Oh, you know,” Kiara says, shrugging haplessly. It’s not the right time to say she’s fine, so she tries something else instead. “I’m doing the best I can. Some days are easier than others.”

Sheila’s expression is thoughtful as she considers the answer. “Let’s talk about that,” she suggests. “What does a normal day look like for the both of you?”

Kiara grits her teeth and braces, looking at JJ, who smiles like this is totally fine and normal. If JJ’s on board, then there’s no way out of this.

“It’s okay, Kie,” JJ says, as if finally sensing her trepidation. “There are no right answers. You just have to tell the truth.”

“Right,” she says with a chuckle, like that’s not the problem. “The truth.”

-o-

The following hour is painful. Kiara tries her best to answer the questions, but it’s ridiculously stupid how hard they are. It’s easy to do shit for JJ.

But what is she doing for her? How is she getting back to normal? How is she defining her life?

Who the hell is Sheila and what right does she have to know?

Kiara is relieved when their time is up, eagerly collecting herself to get the hell out when Sheila says, “You know, Kiara, I think it might be helpful if you came back again.”

“Oh,” she says benignly, like the idea doesn’t make her want to stab herself in the eye. “With JJ?”

“Maybe,” Sheila says. She smiles like she knows she’s got Kiara on the hook. “But for yourself, too.”

Kiara’s mouth is open but no words come out. She’s spent the last hour being polite and cooperative and shit. She’d thought she’d convinced the woman that she’s an able and willing partner to JJ and that she’s fine.

Kiara’s fine, right?

Kiara’s fine.

“That’s a great idea,” JJ says, sounding far too enthusiastic. Kiara looks at him in shock, and he nods at her eagerly. “It’s been great for me. I think it could be great for you, too.”

“Oh,” she manages to say after a long moment. Her throat feels like it’s constricting closed. “I mean. I wouldn’t want to interfere–”

She’s not sure what she’s saying, but there’s no way in hell it’s going to fly. “It’s very common in families for there to be separate sessions and joint sessions,” Sheila explains. “Like I said, the holistic approach.”

Sheila knows she has her. Because JJ is sitting there, wide eyed and hopeful, and Kiara’s the one who made him come. She can’t undercut the hard work JJ is doing – even to save herself.

“Okay,” she says finally. “That sounds like a great idea."

Chapter Text

-o-

CHAPTER FOUR

-o-

They schedule follow up appointments at the front desk, and JJ is chipper the whole way back. He talks the whole time about the progress he’s making and the things he’s learning and how good it all is.

“I think you’ll like it,” he says, looking at her from the driver’s seat. “I really do.”

Kiara doesn’t look back, eyes out on the road ahead. “I mean, for you, I’m happy to do it.”

Happy isn’t maybe the right word, but it’s okay. For JJ, is the point.

JJ frowns a little, eyes back on the road. “But for you, too.”

“I’m fine,” Kiara says, because she can say that to JJ. She’s been saying that to JJ all along.

His fingers flex on the wheel and he frowns a little. “But you said that therapy wasn’t about being fine.”

She rolls her eyes. Of course that’s the bit he listened to. “It’s not,” she says. “It’s just – I went to support you.”

“Sure, but what about you?” he says, and he looks at her again.

She dares to look back. “What about me?”

“You deserve support, too,” he says, looking at the road again.

“JJ–”

“No, look,” he says, shaking his head as he navigates a turn. “Either this shit is real or it isn’t. It can’t be a good idea for me and not a good idea for you.”

“JJ, you went through a lot–”

“And you did, too,” he says, a little forceful now. He spares her a glance, brow furrowed. “And I’ve seen you, Kie. You only go out with the girls when they insist, and you haven’t started up any of your old hobbies. What about the nonprofit?”

It makes her cheeks burn, and she clenches her jaw. “I’m sorry, JJ,” she says, sharper now. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to start volunteering the second you went into remission.”

He sighs in exasperation. “That’s not what I’m saying,” he says. “I’m just saying, it’s hard to let go of the last two years. Not to mention all the shit that happened before that.”

She’s quiet in response.

And he softens as he glances at her again. “You pushed me to get better,” he says. “And I’m so grateful that you did. Is it wrong that I want to do the same?”

She inhales, long and slow. “JJ–”

“Kie, please,” he says. “We spent enough time surviving. I want us both to live, okay? I want us to live.”

And shit, what is she supposed to say to that?

Except: “You’re right. JJ, of course you’re right.”

The smile on his face isn’t smug, but it is relieved. Satisfied maybe.

“You’ll see,” he tells her, eyes back on the road ahead. “It’s going to be great.”

-o-

“It’s going to be hell,” Kiara says to the girls the following week. Her appointment is tomorrow night, and she’s been dreading it. “If it weren’t for JJ, I wouldn’t do it.”

Sarah is not impressed. Cleo is even less so.

Kiara knows she should have expected this after last week.

But still. She’s hoping for some sympathy.

“We told you last week,” Sarah reminds her. “Therapy’s a good idea.”

“It’s a necessary idea,” Cleo adds, a bit firmer in her point.

Kiara sighs. “I know I was off last week, but I’m not that bad.”

“And you’re not that good either,” Sarah counters.

“Hence your meltdown last week,” Cleo reminds her.

“I know that,” Kiara says.

“Do you?” Sarah asks. “And do you know just how much shit you’ve been through?”

Kiara doesn’t want to think about it; she steels her mind against it.

“Because it was a lot, the last two years,” Sarah continues anyway. “For all of us – and especially you.”

“Yeah, it was a lot,” Kiara says. “But I got through it. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Are you?” Sarah asks. “Because the rest of us? Are all settling down and starting our lives.”

“Even JJ,” Cleo says. “He’s been talking to me more and more about coming back to the charter.”

“And what about you?” Sarah says.

Kiara looks at her drink, working to keep her frustration in check. Getting mad will only prove their point, but she is mad.

“And even before JJ got sick,” Sarah says. “The way things went down with your parents–”

Her head snaps up, and her voice is harder now. “I’m fully emancipated,” she says. “There’s nothing to that.”

“Girl, that’s the point,” Cleo says. “You fully emancipated yourself from your parents. You took them to court. You don’t think you need to work through that?”

Kiara scoffs, and picks up her drink. “I think I’m fine,” she says, taking a drink. “I think I’m just fine.”

-o-

At therapy that night, she dances around Sheila’s questions. She doesn’t lie, necessarily, but her version of the truth is curated to get the job done. She talks about JJ when she can, and when Sheila asks about her parents, she does her best not to scream.

“What do my parents have to do with anything?” she asks.

“They’re your parents,” Sheila says. “Even if it’s a negative relationship, it’s still going to have an impact on your life. I find it’s best to understand where we come from in order to figure out where we’re going.”

“My parents don’t matter,” she says flatly.

“JJ has mentioned that it’s complicated,” Sheila says.

Of course he has.

She takes a long, measured breath. “My parents don’t know who I am, and they never tried to get to know me,” she says. “They have some idea of the daughter they want, and that’s clearly not me.”

Sheila pauses for a second, and Kiara expects a bullshit question about how that makes her feel.

But instead, she asks, “And who are you, Kiara?”

The son of a bitch.

Kiara works to drag air into her lungs. “I’m JJ’s girlfriend,” she says, because it’s the only thing she can think to say. “I almost wasn’t, but I am.”

“And who else?” Sheila says. “Who else are you?”

And damn it if Kiara doesn’t have an answer to that one at all.

-o-

She gets through the session, but she feels worse after than when she started. In fact, she’s downright pissed off, and to make matters worse, her mother texts her on the way home.

Hey, Kiara! Just checking and seeing how things are going. We’re thinking of you and JJ!.

Because who the hell does she think she is? What right does she have to Kiara at all? She can knit cute blankets and send cookies, but is she actually there when Kiara needs her? When JJ was dying, her dad was throwing tantrums about Christmas. And so what if they showed up to donate bone marrow? So what?

Does that make it better?

Does that change the fact that they made JJ feel like a worthless piece of shit? Does it change the fact that they let her be kidnapped?

Does it?

All those years she wanted them to see her, and now she’s not sure she wants that at all. She’s not sure they get to know her. Not when she doesn’t even know herself.

So, screw her parents.

And screw Sheila, too.

Screw the whole damn world.

Kiara’s fine.

-o-

Kiara’s so fine that she opens the fridge when she gets home and takes out a can of beer. She downs it as quickly as she can, barely tasting the alcohol as it runs down her throat. When JJ comes in to check on her, she hands him one, too, and proceeds to drink her second.

By her third, she’s tipsy.

By her fourth, she doesn’t even care. JJ seems to be not as drunk as she is – not drunk at all, annoyingly – and when she tries to make him get them both another round, he politely declines.

“What?” she says, and it doesn’t matter if her words are slurring. The world is hazy around the edges, and it feels so, so good. “Are we so responsible that we can’t have a little fun?”

JJ frowns. “Is that what we’re doing?”

It’s not the answer she wants. It’s just not. She’s drunk so she doesn’t have to think about how pissed off she is, and why is he standing there, trying to piss her off more?

“It is,” she says, and she moves to kiss him. Her coordination is worse than she expects and she half falls into him. He catches her with a grunt, and he’s still trying to get her situated on her feet when she throws caution to the wind and kisses him.

It’s more of a lunge than anything, and her lips press hard against his with a lack of grace she’s not anticipating. It doesn’t matter, though. She fists her hands into his shirt and kisses him again.

To her surprise, he pushes her back. With a little squeak, he breaks the kiss. “Kie–” he pants, a little breathless. “What the hell–?”

“Shut up,” she hisses, kissing him again.

He twists away. “You’re drunk,” he tells her.

She laughs, because it’s so damn funny. “So?”

She tries to kiss him again, but he sees it coming this time. He grabs her by the wrists, holding her gently at bay. “So,” he says. “You can’t consent when you’re this drunk.”

Now, she rolls her eyes at the total incredulity of it all. JJ is lecturing her about consent. JJ is lecturing her. “I can consent just fine,” she says, and she twists against his grip, but he’s just too strong. “I’m fine.”

His look now is withering, like this isn’t just about her getting drunk.

Like, whatever.

Like this is about the therapy she doesn’t want or the life she doesn’t know how to live. Like it’s about the panic attacks she’s not talking about or the lack of purpose she has in everything.

Like whatever.

She doesn’t need to figure out her life. She doesn’t need to know who she is. She certainly doesn’t need to let go.

“Kiara,” he says, and he’s raising his voice now. “Stop.”

Who is he to say that? To her? Of all people?

She took care of everything while he was sick. She kept the house up. She made sure the business was operational. She handled the bills and the insurance and the appointments and his pills. She didn’t let him die, even when he wanted to. He’s here because of her.

“Shut up, JJ,” she says. “I know you want this.”

She tries to break free again, but he just doesn’t let go. “Yeah, I do,” he says. “But not like this.”

He holds her until she looks at him.

“Kie, not like this,” he says. “Please.”

It’s the please that gets her. It’s the thing that does her in. Her resolve crumbles, and the first sob is a hiccup before she’s collapsing into tears. He catches her then, gently as he scoops her up, holding her against his chest.

She’s too spent to fight him as he carries her to the bedroom, pulling back the sheets and laying her down. She’s still crying as he covers her up, crying as she grabs onto his wrist. “JJ, please,” she says, and she hates the way she’s begging. “Please, don’t go.”

He sits down next to her, brushing her hair back. “I promised you I’d stay, didn’t I?” he asks, soothing her now.

She nods, tears still on her cheeks.

He wipes them away carefully. “I’m still keeping that promise, Kie,” he says. “I’m keeping my promise.”

That’s what it takes, then. That’s what she needs.

To finally, painfully, just let go.

-o-

Kiara sleeps hard, which is good.

She wakes up harder, which is less good.

She wakes up with a throbbing headache and a roil of nausea so violent she practically convulses. She falls out of the bed, stumbling into the bathroom on her hands and knees. She just barely makes it to the toilet before she empties her stomach a little.

And then a lot.

When she’s done, she flops back with a miserable groan, slumping against the tile. She wants to curl up and die, and she may just do that when suddenly a voice brings her back around.

“Here.”

She blinks her eyes open blearily. JJ is standing in front of her. He’s got a glass of water and two Tylenol in his hands.

“You’re going to need these.”

It feels a little humiliating, honestly, but she can’t do anything about it. At this point, she can’t decide if she feels worse physically or mentally, and she doesn’t look JJ in the eyes when she takes the items from his outstretched hand.

Her hands are shaking as she pops the pills and swallows them back with a swig of water. It roils her stomach for a moment, and she breathes hard through her nose to get her body back in check. Then, and only then, does she look back up at JJ.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

His expression is steady, but his voice is quiet. “Not like you haven’t done it for me.”

It’s true, but that doesn’t make her feel better. She sighs, putting the water down as she leans her head back against the wall and closes her eyes against the lights. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I’m pretty sure there wasn’t much thinking involved,” JJ counters.

She cracks her eyes to look at him, half mortified. “Did I really try to force myself on you?”

He lets out a small, breathless chuckle and closes the toilet lid to sit down on it. “Yeah, you were pretty horny,” he says. “Not the most attractive offer you’ve ever made me.”

She groans, bringing her hands up to rub over her face. “Shit, I’m so sorry,” she says, and she looks at him again. “I had no right.”

His expression now is quizzical. “Kie, you didn’t violate me or anything. You don’t have to apologize.”

“But I kind of did,” she says. “No means no–”

“We’re dating – serious relationship shit,” he reminds her.

“That doesn’t make consent automatic–”

“Kiara, you were wasted,” he says with an air of finality. “I wasn’t in any danger of anything; I was just worried about you.”

Hungover as she is, things are processing slower than they should, but the pieces start to fall into place. Kiara went off the rails last night, and she freaked JJ out. He’s here offering her water, pills, and a sympathetic ear, and he’s been here all along.

He’s been here all night.

No doubt, he’s been keeping watch over her since he put her to bed, making sure she’s okay.

Because that’s the thing: Kiara’s not okay.

And it has absolutely nothing to do with the amount of alcohol she drank last night.

“Kie,” he says, even softer now as he looks at her. “What’s going on?”

It’s such a simple question, and he asks it without any pretense. He’s not judging her. He’s not being mean. He’s just worried.

She sighs again, because she doesn’t know what’s going on. She wouldn’t even know how to explain it if she could wrap her mind around it. It’s been such a crazy thing, the last two years. From rock bottom to – what? JJ’s in remission; they have permission to live.

And she has no idea how.

Happiness is hers for the taking, and she doesn’t know what to do with it.

It’s her chance to build a future for herself, and she doesn’t even know what she wants it to look like.

Kiara doesn’t know anything right now.

“I don’t know,” she admits, and it’s woefully simple, but she has nothing else to offer him. “JJ, I have no idea.”

He sighs, too, then, and he rubs his hand through his hair as he considers that answer for a second. He chews the inside of his lip, and Kiara thinks she wants to be sick again.

“I think you need to go back to Sheila–”

That’s not really the answer Kiara wants to hear. “I did see Sheila,” she protests. “That’s what started this–”

“Yeah, because the first few times is a lot, you spiral,” he says. “But you didn’t let me quit.”

She winces. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“I’d be dead if not for you, Kie,” he says, all too serious.

“This isn’t the same–”

“It is the same,” JJ says. “So I’m not letting you quit either.”

He’s so sure, he’s so resolute – it’s hard to argue.

But it’s also hard to admit he’s right.

She grits her teeth together and swallows hard. “I feel like an idiot.”

JJ inclines his head knowingly. “That’s also a familiar feeling for me.”

“I just – nothing happened to me, even,” she tries to explain, even in the face of overwhelming futility. “I’m supposed to be fine.”

“Suffering’s not a contest,” he says, and he’s so damn earnest about it, it hurts. “Trauma isn’t zero sum.”

She’s hungover, but that still cuts through the bullshit. She gives him a sharp look. “Shit,” she remarks. “Someone’s been paying attention.”

JJ smirks with a sardonic flair. “It had to happen sooner or later.”

He’s amazing, right? JJ’s been through so much, and here he is. Better and happier and healthier – mind and body – than ever. He hasn’t just beaten the odds for cancer; he’s beaten every other odd stacked against him to be here.

And here she is, everything in her favor, falling to absolute pieces.

“I don’t know,” she confesses miserably. “It just seems like a lost cause.”

“It’s not,” he says, and he’s resolute in this. “It just takes time. We could keep going separately most of the time, and then have a few group sessions. Just to make sure we’re both on the same track together.”

She doesn’t want to, but she wants him. And he’s so true and so earnest and so good.

He’s also right.

This isn’t like before, when she made the call to save his life. This isn’t JJ on life support, receiving a bone marrow transplant without any knowledge or consent. She has to make her choices here. She has to be an active participant in her own recovery.

There’s no way around it, even if she really wants one.

“I’ve done family therapy before,” she says. “It didn’t work.”

He is undeterred. “Well, the problem wasn’t therapy,” he says. “Maybe it was the family.”

It’s the right thing to say. It’s the only thing to say. She made the choice to emancipate herself from her parents for a reason.

And she’s still here, with JJ, for a reason.

One wasn’t worth fighting for.

The other one is.

“I can try,” she says finally.

“That’s all any of us can do,” he agrees.

Her stomach does a flip, and it’s not the anxiety. “Oh, shit–”

He’s quick to get up, opening up the toilet. “Are you going to–”

And she’s lunging forward catching herself on the toilet while her stomach turns inside out again. It hurts, the pulling of her muscles, but JJ’s there to catch her and hold her up until it’s done.

-o-

It takes Kiara all day to recover.

From the hangover.

It’s going to take longer than that for all the rest. But JJ stays with her. Her friends are there for her. And maybe it’s going to be okay.

Maybe it really is.

-o-

At her next session, Kiara is embarrassed. She’s not sure why – it’s not like Sheila knows she went and got smashed after her last session – and she knows that Sheila’s role here isn’t to tell her she’s an idiot, even when she clearly is.

She’s embarrassed because she knows she has to try. She knows that she didn’t try, and she knows that’s why it didn’t work. It’s not Sheila’s fault.

It’s kind of just hers.

So, when Sheila asks her how things are going, Kiara is honest this time.

“Not great,” she admits. “I had a kind of shitty week.”

Sheila nods, as if this is an answer she’s expecting. “Anything in particular?”

That’s it, right? It’s not any one thing. It’s everything.

“I don’t know, I guess,” she says. “I feel like I’m supposed to be fine.”

“Fine is something we say, but it doesn’t mean anything most of the time,” Sheila says. “We avoid it here.”

Sheila’s use of the royal we is a bit tedious, but Kiara probably has no room to be bitchy about it at this point.

“It’s just – weird,” Kiara says, struggling to articulate it in a way that makes sense. “None of this has been about me. I wasn’t the one who was sick.”

“No, JJ was sick,” Sheila agrees. “He’s the one who almost died.”

“Right,” Kiara says. “So I don’t like making this about me.”

Sheila nods a little, and then she cocks her head thoughtfully. “But you were there with him, right?”

“Well, yeah,” she says. “I’m his girlfriend. Where else would I be?”

Sheila looks like she just made a point, but Kiara’s not sure which point it is. “You were there for his treatments, the appointments.”

“From the first diagnosis, yeah,” Kiara confirms.

“And you were there when he was put under sedation,” Sheila continues. She’s watching Kiara carefully. “When he was on life support?”

That one is harder. Kiara feels her chest tighten. “JJ wouldn’t remember that.”

“He remembers enough,” Sheila replies. “He’s told me a lot about it.”

“Yes, I was there for that,” she says, and it’s sharper than she intends. Somehow, the question has her on edge, and she’s not sure why. “I don’t know what the big deal is.”

Sheila shrugs, somewhat noncommittally. “The point is, JJ was the one with cancer,” she says gently. “But he’s not the only one who suffered over the last 18 months.”

It steals her breath, the way it’s so calmly stated. Plain and simple and shit. Kiara shakes her head, grasping desperately at the vestiges of her control. “But I’m fine. What JJ went through was so, so much worse.”

Sheila tips her head to the side. “I’m not making any comparisons,” she says. “All I’m saying is that both you and JJ suffered extensively. You’ve both experienced a trauma, and you both have to face that. JJ’s made remarkable progress, and I think you can, too. But you have to acknowledge it first.”

“I have to want to get better,” she says softly.

“You have to admit you need to get better,” Sheila clarifies. “No one wants to say they’re weak. I know how hard it is.”

Kiara laughs, small and breathless. “How the hell do I do that, then?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Sheila asks.

She’s here. In this office. Talking to this woman.

It’s something, at least.

Maybe it’s everything.

“Yeah,” she says. “I’m here.”

“Then let’s build on that,” Sheila says. Now, she smiles. “I’m game if you are.”

It’s been enough; it’s been too much.

Kiara nods, finding something resolute in her gut after all. “Yeah,” she agrees. “I think I’m game.”

-o-

Kiara finishes the session. She goes back the next week, and the week after. By the end of the month, she and JJ have another joint session.

It’s not always easy. It’s certainly not always fun. It doesn’t always go well, and sometimes Kiara still gets pissed.

But it makes more sense, is the thing.

She makes more sense.

Maybe now that she’s admitted she’s not fine, things might get better after all.

-o-

Kiara is working hard to keep the status quo. That’s what it feels like to her; staying afloat.

JJ, as it turns out, though, is ready to swim.

He broaches the topic at dinner one night. That he wants to go back to work.

Permanently.

“I mean, I think I’m ready to go back,” he says. “To work. Full time.”

“Oh,” she says, because she’s not sure what else to say. She’s not sure what to do, what to think. “Right.”

Her hesitance seems to make him panic. “But only if it’s okay with you,” he says quickly, and there’s something almost desperate there.

He wants her approval.

Like he needs her to say it’s okay.

That it’s okay for him to live again.

“JJ, of course,” she says, because it hurts to see him need her like that.

She’s struggled to cede control and this is what it’s done. She knows JJ signed a paper that gave her the right to his life, and she knows the choices she’s made. But she has to let that go. She has to let that part of her go. She has to let go. For both their sakes.

“Of course it’s okay,” she says, because she should have said it a long, long time ago.

She sees the doubt persist, almost like poison in his mind. “I mean, I don’t know,” he backtracks. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” she asks.

Because there’s no reason. Except her own inability to let go and his fear.

Except the past that is holding them back.

From the future they deserve.

He swallows, and something trembles in his countenance. “The cancer.”

She doesn’t let herself flinch. For him, she can’t. “The cancer is gone.”

“But the odds–” he says, voice wavering dangerously.

They have to forget the odds, just like they have to forget the past. They have to forget cancer and end of life decisions. They have to forget about abusive parents and Kitty Hawk.

They have to do more than let go.

They have to move on.

She draws a breath and finds confidence in that. “Go to work, JJ.”

He looks at her like she still hangs the moon for him. “Are you sure?”

He’s trusting her to take control.

And now it’s time for her to give it back.

“I’m sure,” she says, and she takes his hand in hers until they both go still. She smiles, looking at him fully and carefully and true. “I’m sure.”

-o-

She’s trying to be supportive – she’s trying to let go – but when JJ leaves in the morning and doesn’t come back all day, she just about loses her shit. She’s restless around the house, standing at the window and just – staring. She’s not sure why; she’s not sure of anything. But when he finally comes back home, it’s all she can do not to tackle-hug him in relief.

They sit down for dinner, and she asks him about everything. She wants to know every detail, all of it, and JJ obliges her. He talks about his day in excess, and she can’t help but think that it’s a lot. For a guy who nearly died less than a year ago, it seems like too much.

JJ, however, clearly disagrees. He’s vibrant and happy and ready to go back tomorrow.

Kiara doesn’t let him see that she’s disappointed. She’s not even sure why she’s disappointed. It’s not like she wants JJ to be cooped up in this house forever. She does want him to live; that’s the whole point.

But letting go is hard.

It’s also a process.

Sheila tells her it gets easier, but sometimes Sheila says dumb shit. At night, JJ is exhausted when he comes home, and he sleeps hard. He’s drinking more coffee to perk himself up in the morning, and some nights he doesn’t even have enough energy for – you know.

This is normal, she tries to tell herself. But she invites Cleo over for coffee anyway, just to be sure. Cleo accepts the invite, but when Kiara asks how JJ’s doing, she looks surprised.

“Wait,” she says. “You invited me over to check up on JJ?”

“What? No,” she says. It’s a lie, and a bad one.

Cleo scoffs. “I get that you’re worried about him–”

“It’s just a lot for him,” Kiara tries to reason. “I mean, to jump back in full-time. He has to have the stamina.”

“Which, he does,” Cleo says candidly.

“He comes home exhausted–”

“I come home exhausted,” Cleo says. “That doesn’t mean he’s not up to it.”

“I just – want him to be okay,” Kiara says, and she knows she’s fretting. She can hear Sheila, lecturing her in her head about letting go, but it’s so hard. Her sense of responsibility to JJ is so overwhelming, and she just can’t help herself.

“I know, me too,” Cleo says. “But he is okay.”

Cleo sounds confident, and there's no reason to doubt her.

Except that gnawing sense in her gut she can’t release. “Are you sure?”

Now, Cleo inhales slowly and gives her a sympathetic look. “Why don’t you come out and see?”

“What?” Kiara asks.

Cleo shrugs. “Come out and spend the day with us,” she says. “We could use the help around the office. It doesn’t have to be weird.”

“I don’t know–” Kiara hesitates.

“Well, I do,” Cleo says flatly. “Because there’s no way in hell I’m going to be your spy while JJ’s at work. If you want to see how he’s doing, just come see how he’s doing. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

-o-

Kiara doesn’t necessarily like Cleo’s logic, but it is, well – logical. She should know better than anyone that sitting around worrying doesn’t make things happen. You have to be proactive. You can’t be idle and just hope for the best. If she’d had that attitude, JJ would be dead right now.

She knows thinking like that is a bit much, but it’s at least enough to ground her. If she’s worried about JJ, she can talk to him. If that still doesn’t yield the answers she wants, she should just go see for herself.

When she offers to come in for the day, JJ is only too pleased to have her along. He rattles off all the things they need help with – from fielding customer inquiries to managing the books – and he seems to think it’s a great idea. He’s so excited by the idea of spending the day with her that he doesn’t seem to realize her ulterior motives.

She almost feels guilty about it.

Almost.

“It’s so amazing, Kie,” he rambles on the drive over. “Like, I knew the business was going well, but it’s going so well. Cleo’s amazing.”

“She is that,” Kiara agrees.

JJ navigates the roads with some barely restrained enthusiasm. “I almost feel guilty for coming back in and, like, putting myself back in it, but she says it’s fine,” he continues. “And, like, I think it is? Do you think it is?”

“Um, yes,” Kiara says. “Cleo’s talked about it. She definitely thinks it’s a team effort.”

“Which is just weird, right?” JJ says, taking another turn. “It started out as my thing, but now it’s her thing, too. And it’s better for it. Like, not what I thought. But better.”

That’s how life is, it seemed.

Never what you expect.

But sometimes, if you’re lucky, better.

It’s funny to think about JJ as lucky, after all he’s been through. But looking at him now, where he’s gotten, maybe there’s something to it.

“Well, I’ll be glad to see it all in action,” Kiara says. “And, you know. Lend a hand where I can.”

“It’s great, Kie,” he says, and he looks at her, beaming. “You’re going to see. It’s great.”

-o-

The thing is, JJ’s right.

It is great.

The business is booming, and it’s a well-run operation. Working together, Cleo and JJ are perfect partners, and they’ve clearly worked out a dynamic that benefits them both. The need for office support is obvious, and there’s plenty to do. It’s no wonder JJ comes home late and tired every night. From fielding phone calls to cleaning the boat, there’s no shortage of things to do from the second they get there to the minute they lock up for the night.

And that may be reassuring, yes. That’s the answer Kiara came out here for.

But she watches JJ at work. She watches him interact with customers. He’s friendly and effusive, confident and funny. He charms everyone, and he does it with an effortlessness that is just so JJ.

That’s not even the crux of it. Seeing him on the boat is where he really comes to life. It’s JJ in his element, working the rigging and prepping the controls. She sees him, totally focused as he maneuvers. She’s watching him live, she realizes.

In a way she hasn’t seen in two years.

She’s watching him live.

She’s not just pleasantly surprised.

She’s everything, is what she is.

She’s everything.

-o-

They both go home tired. The next day, Kiara goes back and does it again. This is how it continues, then, more often than not. The business thrives.

JJ thrives.

And Kiara isn’t doing bad either.

-o-

It’s the little things. It’s waking up feeling content; it’s the taste of coffee on the front porch, looking out across the marsh. It’s the sound of JJ’s laugh, and the smell of the water. Sheila tells her it’s about living in the moment.

Kiara understands it now. It’s about living.

-o-

At night, after a long day, Kiara presses against JJ as he kisses her. There’s enough time for each other; there’s enough energy. The weeks have become months, and time doesn’t mean as much as it used to. Now, there’s just so much of it. Now, it stretches before them, undefined and unrealized.

When they’re done, he spoons her in the bed, presses kisses to her neck as she dozes light.

“I don’t want this to ever change,” he whispers.

She rolls toward him, kissing him back. “Me neither.”

-o-

JJ doesn’t want change, but it’s inevitable, Kiara supposes. She and JJ are living in their own version of tentative reality, but their friends – their family – are in the real world.

She almost forgets it, sometimes. That they have jobs and lives and school.

“It’s not a big deal,” he says, and not for the first time. The more he says it, the less JJ seems to believe him. “I’m still going to do my school. Just – you know, remotely.”

Kiara can tell Pope is trying to do this the right way. He’s invited them over for dinner at Cleo’s place, and they’ve made all of JJ’s favorite things, right down to his favorite brand of shitty beer. It had seemed weird to Kiara from the start, and now she knows why.

Pope isn’t just trying.

He’s trying too damn hard.

Because he’s clearly worried how JJ will take it.

And JJ? Is on the verge of taking it badly.

“But – like – why?” JJ asks, and his voice is halting as she sees him trying to put it together – trying to keep it together. Because the more Pope is trying to make this seem like not a big deal, the bigger deal it feels like, and Kiara can see JJ’s anxiety start to rise as he pieces together the reason why.

He’s accepted the charity of his friends. He’s accepted their care and concern. He’s leaned on them completely and let them take control when necessary.

But the idea that they would lay down their lives for him? That his cancer has changed their futures?

Is still something JJ doesn’t know how to grasp, therapy or not. Pope is awkward as hell and JJ is anxious as all get out, so sometimes they’re a recipe for combustion.

“I just – can’t imagine it,” Pope tries and fails to explain. “I don’t want to leave.”

The emotion is real, and so is Pope’s reasoning. Kiara can see how much Pope is drawn to her after all they’ve been through.

All JJ can see, however, is one of his best friends trying to give up something – because of him. “But this is your dream, man.”

“School is the dream,” Pope clarifies. “I just thought I had to go away. But if I don’t–”

JJ isn’t listening very well now. His emotions are getting the better of him, and it’s making his self control evaporate. “You can’t give up your future, man,” he says, and he sounds almost offended by it at this point. “You can’t.”

Pope looks like he’s anticipated this. “I’m not,” he says, fully emphatic now as he stares JJ down across the table. “I’m just taking it back on my terms.”

That’s an answer he’s rehearsed, and he delivers it well.

JJ hardly hears him, though. He sits back, fork down and forgotten. His face is flushed. “Are you doing this because of me?”

“What?” Pope asks, but his voice goes high and funny, betraying him.

“Because I got sick,” JJ says, and he nods at Pope. “You’re throwing your future away because of me?”

“No, I’m not throwing away my future, I told you,” Pope reiterates, somewhat desperately now. Next to him, Cleo winces. Kiara reaches a hand toward JJ in case she needs to intervene – though she’s not sure how or why.

“But it is because of me,” JJ says, unable to let it go.

Pope sighs, huffing loudly. “I mean, kind of,” Pope relents. JJ is momentarily puffed up with self satisfaction, but Pope is already shaking his head. “But not like you think.”

JJ’s face contorts. “I don’t see–”

“Well, try,” Pope interjects, more forceful now. Loud enough to make JJ listen, if only for a second. “With you getting sick – it gave me perspective. I don’t have to go away to get what I want. I can build my future here, with my friends and family. I don’t have to pick or choose.”

It’s not an unreasonable answer; Kiara knows it’s the truth, too. Pope is no kind of liar, especially not among his friends.

But JJ’s emotions have compromised him completely. His lack of self esteem has always been a problem, and there are times when he can’t handle being the needy one any more than he already has.

He’s endured so much.

Some part of him refuses to endure what he clearly perceives as Pope’s pity.

“But, like, if it’s just me–” JJ starts.

And Pope sees his opening and seizes it. “It’s not just you, asshole,” he says sharply. He leans across the table now, glancing back to look at Cleo for a second. She grins at him, taking his hand.

Pope’s words fail him, and Cleo finally speaks. “It’s also for me.”

Kiara’s heart flutters, and suddenly, the settled confidence on Cleo’s face makes sense. JJ, though, looks like he’s still at a loss. “What?”

“We’re moving in together,” she says. “Baby boy is finally flying out of the nest, and I’ve offered him a nice place to land.”

That’s when JJ finally gets it.

That Pope is looking at his future.

And he sees that it’s not all about his career.

Would this be the decision he made without Cleo here? There’s no way to tell.

It really doesn’t matter, does it? She is here, and they are together, and this decision is right for both of them. JJ can’t see it yet, but it’s crystal clear to Kiara. Once JJ is able to put his own insecurities aside, he’ll see it, too.

As it is, though, JJ still looks distraught. “For real?”

Pope nods, and it looks like he’s wincing. “This is what I want,” he says solemnly. “My parents know. John B and Sarah know.”

This is meant to make the news easier to accept, but JJ still takes it like a knife to the gut. “And you told me last?”

Pope sighs, realizing his mistake. “Only because I knew you’d do this,” he says, nodding emphatically. “I knew you’d freak out.”

Pope freaking out about JJ freaking out – just seems entirely about right. These boys mean so well, and they’re both idiots. John B, too. She doesn’t know how they ever found the gold working together, because honestly, every other plan they’ve had has gone to total shit.

“Because you’re throwing away your future!” JJ says. “And you’re doing it because of me.”

Pope’s eyes are wide and insistent. “No, that’s not what I’m doing. I’m taking my future on my own terms,” he says. He jabs a finger at JJ. “You taught me that.”

JJ goes red in the face. “That’s not – shit. That’s not what I meant,” he says, brow furrowed as he shakes his head furiously. “Pope, that’s not fair.”

Pope has the balls to follow this through, at least. He’s learned how to take a stand – and hold it, and Kiara has to admit, she’s a little impressed. “It’s a good thing, JJ,” he says. And his entire expression shifts a little, and there’s a hint of pleading now as he stares JJ down across the table. “I want this – I really, really do. And you’re helping me realize I should just forget about what people expect and do what I want.”

It’s a point Kiara understands. She knows what it’s like to see your future get rearranged before you even have the pieces put in place. It’s like building a puzzle with a picture that doesn’t match the box. But you have to keep putting the pieces in that lock together, piece by piece, until you see what it all looks like in the end.

Kiara understands, because it’s how her life is unfolding. Even now, with all that she and JJ have built, she’s not sure what the endgame always is. In some ways, she’s envious of Pope’s clarity.

And JJ can’t bring himself to accept it.

It’s not that JJ can’t accept change or doesn’t want his friends to be happy.

It’s that he doesn’t grasp, even now, just how integral he is to their lives. That he can change them – for the better. That he matters.

“But – you’ve got to – whatever,” he says, and his anger is fading now as he seems to surrender to the inevitable. His shoulders slump. “You’re supposed to be the freaky dead people doctor. That’s the point.”

Pope’s expression softens entirely now. “And that’s going to happen, JJ, I swear,” he says. If they weren’t stupid boys, she suspects Pope would have reached across the table and taken JJ’s hand. As it is, Cleo lends a hand to Pope’s back, as if to lend him the courage to finish what he started. “But I can do that here. With my family.”

He looks over to Cleo now, reaching out and taking her other hand as she nods at him with encouragement. He takes a deep breath, a steadying breath, and looks back at Kie – and JJ.

“This is what I want,” he says finally. “This is what I choose.”

There’s no way for JJ to argue with that. JJ would do anything for his friends. He’s already sacrificed so much for Pope. He won’t deny him now.

Kiara resists the urge to comfort JJ. She knows he needs to face this on his own right now.

“I’m sorry,” he says, breaking eye contact with Pope and staring at his hands. “Me getting sick screwed everyone over.”

She knows he needs to face some things – and Kiara has learned to give him some space to do that. But there’s no way in hell she’s letting that go unchecked. She has her limits when it comes to protecting JJ, and him disparaging his own illness is a no-go.

“JJ–” she says softly, lifting her hand to his back now.

He shakes his head, pulling away a little. “No, I know,” he says, as if to preempt the litany of comfort he knows is coming. He looks at her, face pinched. “But I just can’t stand it, okay? It threw my entire life into chaos, and I took all of you with me. If not for me, you’d all be in different places right now.”

“Different but not better,” Pope says, drawing their attention from across the table. Next to him, Cleo nods in earnest agreement. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I wish you’d never been sick because watching you suffer – man, I can’t even talk about it still. But you made me own up. You made me grow up.”

“You gave us perspective,” Cleo says. “You made our future a choice. You made it real.”

And Kiara moves her hand to JJ’s and gives it a squeeze. “You made it all make sense.”

JJ sighs, looking at each of them again, as he seems to realize it’s a lost cause. It’s an argument he won’t win, even if he can’t fully understand it or let himself accept it. “Fine,” he says, and he exhales again, this time with finality. He gives a weary shrug. “I mean, I’m glad I don’t have to say goodbye, dude. It’s not like I wanted you to go.”

Now Pope sighs, too, a smile widening across his face as relief sweeps over him. “It’s P4L, right?” he says.

JJ ducks his head, the blush still climbing up his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah, P4L.”

Kiara grins, and Cleo pulls back and rubs her hands together. “Now that’s sorted,” she says. “Who wants dessert?”

JJ looks up with renewed interest. “You made dessert.”

She winks at him. “For news like this?” she says, and she tousles Pope’s hair fondly. “Of course I made dessert.”

-o-

They finish dinner; they finish dessert. Cleo talks all about their plans to make space for Pope at her place, and Pope explains when he hopes to move in. He has to explain to JJ in explicit detail more than once just how many years of school he has left and why it’s so important to have a medical degree if all he’s doing is cutting up dead people.

That’s JJ’s summarization of it, not Pope’s. Kiara has her opinions on which version is most accurate, but as she is JJ’s significant other, she thinks it best to keep that particular opinion entirely to herself.

By the end of the night, JJ has accepted this revelation, and Pope is visibly relieved. Cleo looks especially self-satisfied for overseeing it and getting her man, and honestly, Kiara’s just exhausted by the time she gets JJ in the car to drive home.

She’s at the wheel tonight, and it’s just as well. She’s tired, but JJ looks spent. As they pull out of the drive, he’s slumped against the seat, head tipped as he stares out the window. For several blocks, she lets this go, but when they pull into the drive back home, she puts it in park and faces the inevitable.

They’re long past the point of not talking about shit. She’s on JJ about it all the time, and there’s no way she can’t be a hypocrite if she doesn’t ask. “You doing okay?”

He sighs, but doesn’t look at her. “Yeah, why not?”

As if that’s going to be an answer that works. JJ can be emotionally manipulative – and Kiara knows it. But she also knows JJ pretty well these days. That’s not a game he plays with her, not since he put his life in her hands and never flinched.

“I think you’re still a little upset about Pope,” she says, because she doesn’t have any desire to draw this out even if she knows she has to talk about it.

He rolls his head toward her, but it’s still slumped against the seat. “He’s giving up college.”

“He’s not,” Kiara reminds him.

JJ rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know,” he says. “He’s still doing college on his terms.”

He says it because he knows it’s the right thing to say.

Not because he believes it.

He purses his lips and looks out the window again, out at the house he’s renovated completely for him and Kiara. “I just – don’t like how cancer made everyone change,” he says. “I forced everyone to be different. And I keep thinking about what you all could have done and could have been without me.”

She sighs. There are a thousand reprimands to give, but she’ll take his honesty for what it is. “JJ, we’d be different, yes. But we wouldn’t be better,” she says. “Not one of us thinks that.”

He sits up a little, mouth working as he nods. “I know.”

That gap between what JJ knows and what he feels is pretty wide, though. Even after all this time.

She waits a moment, before she talks again, keeping her voice gentle. “It’s okay for people to change and grow.”

He sighs, looking frustrated as his brow furrows. “I know,” he says, a little short. He scrubs his hand through his hair, as if he’s looking for a way to make sense of it. “It’s just – not what I thought. After we found the gold. Nothing is like I thought.”

They’d been so young. So dumb and naive. Like gold could solve all their problems and define their futures. They bought businesses and houses. They went to school and emancipated themselves.

And none of it had mattered when JJ got diagnosed.

Not one single bit of it.

She has to swallow hard as she deals with that one. It’s hard for her, too. “I know?”

When he looks at her again, his expression is almost hesitant. “That’s weird, right?”

She sighs, not sure what else to say about it. “It’s life, I think. JJ, it’s just life. Unpredictable and stupid and wonderful all at once.”

Something inside him still rebels. “But if I’d never gotten cancer–”

She can’t do that, though. She can’t think about the what-ifs. Not when she’s worked so hard to survive the reality. “But you did,” she says flatly. “JJ, you got cancer, and you survived it. So here we are. We’re living and our friends are, too. We’re happy – so be happy for them, too.”

He still doesn’t like it, but JJ knows what to do with things he can’t fight. It’s not about denying them anymore. JJ has matured enough to accept them.

With resignation, he nods, letting his head bob forward. “Yeah, I guess,” he mumbles.

She reaches out and squeezes his arm. “You don’t guess,” she reminds him. “You know.”

He looks up at her through his bangs. “It’s really a good thing? Pope staying?”

“He looks happy about it,” Kiara assures him, finally opening her car door. “And I think Cleo is thrilled.”

JJ follows her, and they both get out of the car together. “Yeah, that long distance thing is bullshit.”

She makes her way around, and snakes her arm around him. “I wouldn’t know.”

He kisses her, finally letting himself smile. “I don’t intend to make you find out.”

She kisses him back, letting the tingle down her spine let her bounce up on her toes. “Do you want to–?”

“No better way to feel alive,” he says, and he takes her into the house by the hand, straight back to the bedroom.

-o-

All in all, it’s not a bad night. Dinner is good, Pope and Cleo are good, and any lingering doubts are forgotten when they get back to the bedroom. JJ sleeps soundly at least, even if Kiara finds it harder to get rest.

All the times she tells JJ that it’s over, that they can move on.

And she’s still unable to believe it herself.

She lays there on her side, facing JJ as he’s sprawled out on his back. She watches the rise and fall of his chest, finding reassurance in it. Steady and sure.

He’s alive, she tells herself over and over again until nothing else matters.

He’s alive, she tells herself until finally she surrenders, too, and slips away to sleep.

-o-

After something of a tumultuous night, Kiara is ready for some semblance of normalcy – more for JJ’s sake than her own. She’s not sure she knows what normal is half the time. Mostly, she just wants JJ to have an easy day.

It’s pretty clear that’s not going to happen when Cleo shows up unannounced after breakfast. She comes with leftovers of dessert from last night – saying she doesn’t need them in her house – but she eagerly accepts a cup of coffee when Kiara offers, and she sits there until Kiara and JJ each have one, too.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Cleo says, smiling at them both.

“Pretty sure you’re the one who made dinner,” JJ reminds her. He looks vaguely uncomfortable, even though he’s not sure why. Cleo’s unannounced visit is weird to him, too.

Cleo keeps smiling like she doesn’t notice. And she does notice, for the record. Cleo’s too smart not to know how weird this is.

“I’m talking about Pope,” she says. She shrugs her shoulders, still beaming uncontrollably. “I know you don’t know just how much you influenced him to stay, but it was a lot. I never thought I’d talk him into it, but now he’s moving in with me. Finally!”

JJ looks a little mollified by this, if only because Cleo is being so genuinely sincere. As much as JJ hates his friends going out of their way for him, the idea that he’s helped his friends find a happily ever after clearly has some weight. “Pope’s the smartest man I know,” JJ says. “But he can be kind of dumb sometimes.”

Cleo laughs, nursing another sip of coffee. “I did want to talk about one other thing, though.”

That’s a transition, then. Next to her, she feels JJ brace. Kiara makes herself keep smiling. “Oh?”

“With all this going on, it’s something of a season for change,” she says. “And I’ve been thinking about a few myself. Seems like now’s the perfect time for it.”

Kiara feels the shift in JJ’s demeanor almost instantly. “Not you too,” JJ moans. “I swear to God, I can’t take another change.”

“Oh, shut up, white boy,” she says mockingly. “This is a change I think you’ll like.”

He looks at her, clearly dubious.

“It’s about the charter,” she says.

JJ sighs. “I figured you’d want to go back to Heyward’s full time eventually,” he says. “I was hoping to get my feet beneath me a little more–”

Cleo makes a face. “What? No,” she says.

JJ stops short, not sure what to say. “You don’t want to work at Heyward’s?”

“You’re, like, heir apparent,” Kiara points out, also surprised by the turn of the conversation.

“Yeah,” Cleo says, just a little exasperated that she has to explain it. “But it’s not like Mr. Heyward is some invalid. He doesn’t need me full time.”

“Okay–” JJ starts, but Cleo rolls her eyes.

“And I love the charter,” she says, and she sounds like she hopes that’s enough for JJ to put it together.

It’s not as obvious as Cleo thinks it is; even Kiara is struggling parsing it out.

“Oh, cheese on bread, you two,” Cleo exclaims. “I want to join the charter full time.”

“Oh,” JJ says, and he blinks a few times as he considers it. “I mean, we’d have to split the charters.”

“Or not,” Cleo says. “I don’t need you to hire me. I want to be a partner.”

JJ looks confused by that.

“Equal, 50/50,” Cleo says. “And I’d bring my own boat to the mix. Our bookings are already running full. I suspect it won’t be long until we can fill double the capacity. Two boats would allow us to diversify and expand, giving us both enough to maintain self sufficiency out of it.”

JJ’s mouth falls open. “That’s – what?”

Cleo groans even louder this time. “I’d buy my own charter. And we’d advertise together,” she says. “I know I work well with people, but you’re the local celebrity around here. The Maybank name is excellent for marketing.”

JJ scoffs. “That’s something I’d never thought I’d hear–”

“And yet, it’s true,” Cleo says. “We can leverage your name and share the duties as necessary. This allows us to earn more and get the support we both want for a flexible lifestyle. Everyone wins.”

JJ’s mouth opens again, and he closes it. Finally, all he can do is shrug. “I mean, what am I going to say? No?”

“It’s your business,” Cleo points out.

“That you saved,” JJ counters. He looks at Kie and shrugs helplessly. “We wouldn’t have it without her.”

“And I’ve seen peeks at the numbers,” Kiara agrees. She nods at Cleo. “I think you’re right. I think the market would support the expansion.”

They both look at JJ, clearly waiting for the final say. “I mean, yeah,” he says, like there’s no other answer he can give. “I’m sure we have to make it – like, legal or whatever. But yeah. I’m game if you are.”

Cleo beams at him, clearly relieved. “That’s good to know,” she says. “I had Pope draw up the legal paperwork.”

“Okay,” JJ says. “Do I have to sign shit again?

“A little shit,” Kiara assures him with a roll of her eyes.

“And I can help you find a boat,” JJ offers.

“Yeah, about that,” Cleo says. “I may have already bought the boat.”

JJ stares at her, blank.

Kiara googles a bit. “What if he said no?”

“I was banking hard that he wouldn’t.” Cleo says, grinning again.

“You’re secretly planning to put me out of business, aren’t you?” JJ jokes wearily.

“I told you, I’m just riding your coattails here,” she says. “But I think we can all get what we want is all.”

“Hey, I’m all for happy endings,” JJ says. He looks at Kiara with a grin. “You know?”

“I do,” she says, giving JJ a peck on the cheek before turning to Cleo. “So that’s it?”

Cleo nods, utterly content. “You make it sound so easy,” she quips. “As if getting everything I ever wanted is just an expected outcome.”

“We’ve been through enough shit,” JJ tells her. “Why not?”

Cleo nods back at him knowingly. “Why not indeed?”

Chapter Text

-o-

CHAPTER FIVE

-o-

Cleo’s serious when she says she has the details in order. The paperwork is already drawn up, and all JJ has to do is sign. He skims them for good measure, but Kiara is pretty sure he has no idea what they say, and it’s Cleo. They trust Cleo. She’s a Pogue.

She’s family.

So JJ signs without hesitation, without doubt.

Moving forward, moving up.

Bigger, better things.

For all of them, it seems.

-o-

Cleo makes it official, and Pope makes his move not long after. It’s mere weeks before he’s got the U-Haul and he’s moving his stuff into Cleo’s house.

JJ is slow to accept it, but he’s the only one. Even Heyward and Mrs. Heyward are thrilled at the news. With Pope finishing his undergraduate studies remotely, he’ll be in the OBX more often than not. He only has to travel to the mainland for major events and special programs. He’ll be close to his parents, close enough to help out at the store on weekends.

Cleo is clearly also thrilled by this change, but she’s not about to let him take it without some ribbing. She keeps Pope loose, is what she does, and she challenges his status quo. So, the jokes are incessant. She tells everyone that he’s shacking up with her rent-free, and she laments being the major breadwinner as her husband languishes in school.

She makes a big deal about it, but it’s clearly all a facade. Cleo has found her place on the OBX more than any of them. It’s been clear to everyone she’s heir apparent at Heyward’s, and she splits her time between the market and JJ’s charter business now that she’s a full-time partner. How she manages to do it all, Kiara’s not sure. But Cleo’s driven, and she knows who she is. All in all, Kiara’s a bit jealous.

But there’s no room for jealousy in friendships. There’s even less room for it in family.

So Kiara is up bright and early the day of the move, doing her part along with the rest of the Pogues to help Pope and Cleo make this step.

It’s a group effort, though it’s hard to say how Pope ended up with so much stuff. Despite the fact that Cleo’s got a fully furnished out, Pope is bringing an excessive amount of furniture, and his books alone take up half the truck.

John B makes a point to attempt the heaviest lifting, even though Sarah’s the one with surprising upper body strength. Cleo takes point directing traffic, rolling her eyes as she watches the boxes come in, and Pope spends his time coaching all of them on how valuable the box’s content purport to be.

Kiara does what she can, but sticks close to JJ. She knows JJ has been in remission for awhile now. He works a physical job, every day on the boat. He’s more than fit, and he’s clearly the most adept at the heavy lifting. Only Cleo seems fully comfortable with this – seeing JJ in action on the boat every day – and everyone else seems to struggle with letting go.

It seems all of them still remember what JJ looked like when cancer treatment emaciated him. Seeing him lifeless and intubated on a hospital bed is hard to shake. The idea of his fragility lingers, sometimes, even years later.

Sarah effortlessly distracts Kiara from worrying about it, and John B has clearly made up his mind not to make a big deal out of it. Pope, however, struggles. When he catches JJ with a particularly heavy load, he’s quick to intervene, and after half a day of being waylaid from getting work done, JJ stops short and calls him on his shit.

“Like, what the hell?” he asks, glaring at Pope as they stand side by side in the back of the U-Haul. Kiara is waiting, reaching for one of the floor lamps, eyebrows up as she observes. “I thought you wanted to move in with Cleo.”

“What?” Pope asks, surprised. “Yeah, of course I do.”

“Then what gives, man,” JJ says, and he gestures toward the box he was trying to take. “Because you keep stopping me from actually moving your shit.”

Pope frowns, even though the scarlet blush is easy to spot as it spreads across his cheeks. “I can do this one,” he says, and he reaches down and grunts. The box lifts and he makes a face, huffing as he puts it back down. “Shit, how many books did I pack?”

JJ rolls his eyes, reaching down to snag the box again. “Let me–”

“No,” Pope says, stepping in front of it.

Now, JJ just looks pissed. “No?”

Pope is now flustered, and Kiara has let herself go still to watch this conversation play out. “Just – you don’t have to do so much.”

JJ looks at him for a long second, confused. “I don’t have to do so much?”

“You can take it easy,” Pope says. “Your body–”

It clicks into place as JJ suddenly gets it. He gets it, and he doesn’t like it. “My body?” he asks with an incredulous scoff. “You remember the part where they told me I’m in remission?”

“Yeah, I know–”

“It means I’m in remission,” JJ says.

“But your body went through a lot,” Pope protests.

“Trust me, I remember,” JJ says, and he snorts this time. “But I’m better now. I’m better.”

“But–” Pope starts, and Kiara feels him freeze.

She feels herself freeze.

They’re standing there, frozen in spot, as Pope doesn’t say it.

But what if it comes back.

Kiara is poised to intercede, but holds herself back. She watches the pain on Pope’s face. Watches as it flies straight at JJ.

And she watches as JJ stares back.

Not defiant.

Not angry.

Not even sure.

But the smile that pulls at his lips is something else. Something not quite desperate, something not quite relieved. Something true, though. Just something true.

“Then I sure as hell better get my living in now, while I can,” JJ drawls softly, stepping past Pope and picking the box up off the floor of the truck.

Pope’s shoulders fall and he turns after JJ, grabbing him by the shoulder. “JJ–”

JJ turns to him, shaking his head with a helpless shrug. “If I live like I’m dying, is that living at all?” he asks.

Pope lets go then, a little tentative, a little unsure. But he nods, too. “You sure, man?”

“I’m just carrying boxes,” JJ tells him. “You’re the one blowing up your life to come back home and shit. Are you sure?”

Pope nods. He swallows and nods.

The tension eases, and Kiara lets herself relax. She finally grabs the lamp like she intended to from the start.

“Yeah,” Pope says, and he’s certain now. He’s sure. “I definitely am. Like you said: it’s home.”

“Okay, then,” JJ says with a grin as he goes to carry the box inside. “Then, let’s get you moved in.”

-o-

When JJ was first diagnosed with leukemia, they’d all been focused on getting back to normal. The plan had been to kick cancer’s and go back to how things were.

It had been a nice idea. It had been the motivation to get them through the hard moments, the worst moments.

They’d been wrong, though. The entire idea was naive.

Because after all this time since JJ’s diagnosis, and he’s finally free and clear of the disease.

And nothing could be further from normal.

Nothing is going to go back to how it was. Life is irrevocably different now. They’re different in a thousand little ways. JJ is officially the one who is cancer-free, but it feels like they’re all in remission.

Learning to live again.

It isn’t maybe the way any of them had planned. It probably isn’t the way any of them would have chosen. But that doesn’t mean it’s bad.

That doesn’t mean it’s not meant to be.

That doesn’t mean they’re not grateful, they’re not happy.

Because they’re alive, in the end.

They’re alive and they’re together.

And nothing else matters at all.

-o-

JJ seems to come to terms with it slowly. The initial euphoria is one thing, but adapting to a future takes him time. As a kid, he’d thought he was destined for jail and addiction. When he got cancer, he’d thought he wouldn’t make it out alive.

Now, he’s facing a lifetime of possibility. The lifetime is a novelty, sure. The possibility is more so.

Once he masters the daily routine of getting up, he starts to think about making progress. Back at work full time, he’s not just minding the books. He’s doing charters. He’s talking about expansions with Cleo.

At home, it’s the same. He doesn’t just finish up the loose ends. He’s tackling new projects, bigger projects. Slowly, at first. Then, with a vigor.

When he buys a new power tool, she raises her eyebrows at it. They have a work shed full of this shit. She’s not sure why there’s a new one sitting in her living room.

“We really needed another one?” she asks, unable to keep her skepticism in check.

“Sure,” he says. “I didn’t have any other way to cut tile.”

“But we’re not going to cut tile all that often,” Kiara tries to reason.

“Not now,” he says, clearly exasperated. “But for the future.”

He says it, just like that. Casual and shit.

For the future.

Because JJ has a future.

And okay. Kiara wants that future, even if it means power tools they don’t need.

-o-

For as good as things are going, Kiara can’t be naive. She can’t close her eyes to the obvious. JJ is flourishing in some regards.

JJ is also struggling.

Therapy gives him the tools to deal with it, but it’s not a cure-all. It’s not like an infusion of compatible bone marrow. JJ’s physical trauma has been fixed, but the emotional toll will just take longer.

There’s just no way around it.

Because JJ will be great for a week, before he wakes up one day and just can’t. Where something – where nothing – throws him for a loop and he just can’t get his shit together.

Most of the time she can coach him through it, coaxing him back into a calmer, more collected state. But when he wakes up, stricken with nightmares, it can be hard. Sometimes, it’s too hard, and with JJ keening on the bedroom floor, barely able to take a breath, she does the only thing she can think of and calls John B.

Months after JJ’s been in remission, he still answers right away.

“Kie? What’s wrong?” he asks, like he knows. Like he suspects. “JJ?”

“He woke up in a panic,” she says, glancing anxiously over at JJ, wishing she could comfort him. “He’s not usually this bad. He won’t let me touch him–”

“Just – relax,” he says, and she can hear shuffling on the other end of the phone. “Is he safe? Should we be calling 911?”

“I – it’s a panic attack,” she says, as JJ rocks back and forth, curled up so tight that it looks like it hurts. “Just a really bad one.”

“Okay,” he says. “Just – make sure he’s safe. I’m on my way.”

John B doesn’t wait for verification or confirmation. He ends the call, and Kiara all but drops her phone. She takes a few steps toward JJ, but stops herself. He’s in no state right now.

So she stops short. She swallows back her fear and forces air through her nose.

“It’s okay,” she says, because it’s about where they’re going and not where they are. It’s about tomorrow and not today. It’s about the next breath and not the air in your lungs. “It’s okay.”

All this time since JJ’s diagnosis, and she still believes.

-o-

John B seems to defy the laws of physics for JJ. He’s there in minutes.

He doesn’t knock; he doesn’t greet Kie. He all but shoves his way past her, getting to his knees in front of JJ. JJ flinches, but John B is steady. His hands take JJ by the face, bringing his head up toward him.

“J, you got to calm down,” he says. “You got to breathe, remember?”

He says it because he knows; he’s done this before. She’s seen John B coach JJ through the worst moments, before and during cancer. He’s the one who has taken the weight of JJ’s darkest moments and brought him through to the other side.

But there’s still something to it. That he’s seen JJ through this.

She’s seen JJ in various stages of panic; she’s seen him have a panic attack before.

But John B has seen him through more. She hates to think about it – the two of them, supporting each other when the adults in their lives failed them. At 16? At 13? At 10?

She’d never had any idea back then. She’d just assumed that everyone had happy lives at home with parents who loved them. It hadn’t occurred to her what poverty did to families. It hadn’t even been a possibility to her that parents might abuse their children.

In her blissful naivete, these two boys had learned the kind of coping mechanisms that no one should have to know. Yet, here they are. Tried and true, deep and real, vitriolic and horrible.

“JJ,” John B says, his voice dropping low and deepening. He reaches one hand down, placing it on JJ’s chest with a firmness. “Breathe.”

After a horrible, agonizing moment, JJ seems to comply. His chest moves, almost contrary to his body, and there’s a grating, gasping sound as he exhales with a sob.

Kiara flinches, her heart threatening to shatter, but John B hardly notices. “Good,” he coaches. He nods his head, one hand on JJ’s cheek, the other on his chest. “Now do it again.”

And JJ does. Almost like a given, an inevitability. Because JJ will do anything for the Pogues. And for John B? Shit, for John B – it’s so much more. It’s everything.

“That’s it,” John B says, and he smiles a little, leaning down to try to catch JJ’s eyes. “You’re doing it. Just keep doing it.”

The breaths are grating and terrible, but each one comes a little easier than the last. Soon, they start to even out and grow less dramatic. JJ’s chest hitches less and less, and the color starts to return to his cheeks. John B looks uncomfortable as hell, still kneeling in front of JJ. But his hands haven’t moved, on JJ’s face and chest, steady and sure.

It feels like a lifetime, but Kiara knows it’s mere minutes until JJ is breathing normally again. She sees the shift, the way he blinks suddenly and comes back to himself with a shudder. Goosebumps break out on his flesh, and John B moves his hands to JJ’s arms, rubbing them up and down to ease the shivering.

Kiara stands, still frozen in her spot at the door. It’s almost like she’s intruding, watching them like this. But this is how it is. Kiara understands John B’s place in JJ’s life, and John B understands hers. And JJ seems to know there are no secrets, not between the three of them. Not even at all. It’s family, in a very specific kind of way. It’s family, in the most special way. The way they’ve chosen; the way they’ve built.

The things they share, the things they are. These things.

Within another few moments, JJ’s trembling has eased, and when he takes his next breath, there’s a different timber to it. A renewed self awareness, and she sees the way his cheeks redden and he drops his head. “Shit,” he says, and his voice is still small. “What the hell was that?”

“A panic attack,” John B says, and there’s something comforting in his bluntness.

JJ laughs – or maybe he sobs – as he looks up. “Haven’t had one like that in a while.”

John B smiles lightly, but he doesn’t ease back at all. If anything, his grip on JJ only steadies as he draws him up again. “You’re sleeping better again now that you’re healthy,” he says. “That means you’re dreaming again. We both know it gets worse at night.”

JJ exhales, shaking his head a little. “I thought with the therapy–” he starts, but doesn’t seem to know quite how to finish. “I thought it was supposed to help.”

“It has,” John B says. “I mean, I’ve noticed.”

He glances back at Kiara.

“I know Kie’s noticed,” he says.

“But this--” JJ starts, lifting his arms in a small helpless gesture.

John B finally lets go and sits back a bit. “This is the sort of shit you can’t control,” he says. “That changes last. You’re making the other changes, though. You’re talking more about shit. You’re letting people help you. And you’re coping with things in ways that aren’t entirely self destructive.”

JJ smiles weakly.

“I mean, when was the last time you tried to get yourself killed instead of just admitting you cared about people?” he prods with a lightening tone.

This finally does elicit a chuckle. “Cancer sort of took the deathwish right out of me,” he admits wearily – and a little sheepishly. “And shit. Pneumonia took the rest of it.”

“I hesitate to call that a silver lining–”

“Please don’t,” JJ says. And he takes a breath, slow and long. He drops his head against, leaning forward to rest against John B, who easily takes him up in his arms without saying anything. “I just wish I didn’t have to do this.”

John B rubs a hand up and down JJ’s back. “I wish you didn’t either,” he says. “But you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. Kie’s here.”

JJ pulls back at that, looking over John B’s shoulder to where Kiara is standing. He smiles at her, but it looks like he could cry. “I’m sorry–”

The apology is everything. Too much. She’s moving forward without thinking, hugging both of them together. “We’re done with sorry,” she says, drawing them both as close as she can. “I never want to hear it ever again.”

She’s crying now, and she doesn’t care. Her cheeks are wet as she buries her head in between JJ and John B, and she feels their arms around her.

“Is that a free pass, then?” JJ jokes between them. “For anything I do?”

“I think so, bro,” John B says. “She totally gave you a free pass.”

“Shut up,” Kiara says, laughing now. “You’re both assholes.”

When they part, they’re all red eyed and weary. They’re tired, they’re spent, and they’re okay.

They’re going to be okay.

“I know I can’t apologize,” JJ says, reaching up to wipe his face. “But, like. Can I at least say thank you?”

He looks from John B to Kiara.

“Both of you,” he says. “I couldn’t do this without you. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“Why do you think we do it?” Kiara says. “JJ, I can’t do this without you.”

“And I sure as hell wouldn’t be here without you,” John B adds.

JJ looks like he wants to protest, but he catches himself. Maybe he knows he can’t; maybe he’s finally learning.

He nods instead, small and just pulled together. “Thank you,” he says. “For everything.”

For one breath. One night. One year.

One lifetime.

When John B finally goes home and JJ is tucked back in bed. When Kiara curls up next to him, and he buries his face in her hair. When it’s done. When it’s just ready to start.

They’re all breathing easier.

-o-

It’s the funny things, too. The things she doesn’t expect to matter that make so much of a difference. Like seeing JJ at the grocery store.

It’s a thing, really. When JJ’s face lights up at the damn grocery store.

Grocery shopping, as far as Kiara is concerned, has always been a chore. She resented having to tag along with her dad as a kid, barely satisfied with the complimentary lollipop in the checkout line. Making a list is monotonous, and doubling back for dumb shit like pepper is nothing short of a waste of time, as far as she’s concerned.

But JJ – JJ looks like he’s never done anything so amazing.

She’s sure some of it is his childhood. Now that he can buy what he wants with no budgetary restrictions, there’s a sense of liberation she can’t underestimate. She’s seen JJ scavenge food and eat mold, so the novelty of buying as much shit as he wants is pretty distinctive.

But it’s more than that now.

Now, JJ is hungry.

He has an appetite, and he can hold down food. Now that he’s not on a chemotherapy regimen or a host of drugs messing with his system, food is suddenly appealing to him again. He wants to eat.

He wants to eat everything.

So much so that they brim out the fridge and pantry. JJ buys a deep freeze, and that’s full too. It seems excessive sometimes, but she remembers the way JJ withered away to skin and bones.

And excessive is kind of the whole point.

-o-

Kiara spends so much time thinking about JJ that her own issues come as a surprise.

Even when they shouldn’t.

She knows she’s still anxious. She knows she’s on edge. Even when things are going well, she’s plagued by doubts. She still wakes up at night just to watch JJ breathe.

It’s normal, she tells herself. Most of the time, she can rationalize it.

But when she breaks down in the car, there’s nothing to rationalize.

She’s crying and shaking, and her vision has gone blank as her ears ring. Her heart thumps painfully loud in her chest as she struggles to breathe, breathe, breathe—

Suddenly, she keening. Her hands are clutched on the wheel so tight that her knuckles are white. She can’t remember where she is, where she’s going.

She’s—

Just here.

And nowhere.

She’s—

Lost. She’s broken. She’s desperate. She’s so scared, she’s terrified. How the hell did she get here? Where is she going? What is she doing?

She needs JJ.

JJ—

The thought galvanizes her, and there’s air in her lungs. Her brain clears and she remembers how to move the air. In and out, in and out.

It comes back to her as the world comes back into focus. She’s in the car, sitting behind the wheel. She’s in park. Outside the window, the house is poised in front of here.

There are bags in the backseat.

She went to the store. She’d been out of shampoo. She’s had to go to two stores to find her brand, but she’s home now. She’s here.

Her fingers are shaking when she lets go, and she lifts her fingers to her cheeks, wiping away the tears. She sniffles loudly, trying to get the snot in check. After a moment, she looks at herself in the mirror, trying to fix her hair and wondering just how noticeable it is that she just had a breakdown in the car.

Pretty noticeable maybe.

But JJ isn’t the only one good at hiding shit anymore. Sheila at therapy would ream her out for this, but Sheila from therapy doesn’t live with JJ every day. Sheila from therapy doesn’t understand.

Kiara would die for JJ.

She betrayed him to save him.

Everything she does starts with protecting him. It’s where she starts and ends. And if that’s the problem, then she’s not ready to get better.

JJ first.

She will put JJ first.

-o-

Inside, she’s all smiles. JJ greets her with a kiss. “You find what you need?”

She puts the bags on the table. “And then some.”

-o-

JJ’s therapy is going well. He tells her himself, but it’s really the changes she sees in him that convince her he’s right. JJ’s panic attacks have started to ease off a bit, and when he starts to spiral, he’s more likely to catch himself. He can talk about his triggers with some dexterity now, and his ability to express what he needs and wants is becoming very self-actualized.

She’s happy for him; she’s proud of him.

Kiara’s therapy is not going well.

She can tell Sheila is getting a bit frustrated, even if she doesn’t express it like that. She keeps reminding Kiara to be honest, as if somehow Kiara is lying her way through the sessions. She’s not lying. She’s just not focusing on the details Sheila wants her to focus on. When she suggests to Sheila that maybe she doesn’t need the sessions anymore, Sheila takes her glasses off and looks at her starkly.

“There is no specific endgame with therapy,” she says.

“That’s convenient,” Kiara says with a little snark. “Because then you can go on forever.”

Sheila doesn’t rise to it, though. “I prefer coming to a mutually agreed upon sense of closure,” she says. “Usually, when the right progress is made, everyone involved realizes it.”

Kiara licks her lips. “Sheila–”

“Kiara, the reason you’re not making progress is because you’re not doing this for you,” she says finally.

Kiara stops, mouth open as she listens.

“You’re doing this for JJ, which is admirable. I know how much you love him and how much you want him to be happy and whole,” Sheila continues. “But he loves you, too. He wants you to be happy and whole as well. You can’t be the person you want to be for him until you put the effort into yourself.”

She closes her mouth, her chest suddenly constricting. She can feel the color suffusing her cheeks, and her eyes are burning. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sheila shrugs and puts her glasses back on. “It’s up to you, Kiara. You get to decide who you are, not me,” she says. “It’s entirely up to you.”

-o-

Kiara doesn’t schedule another appointment. When she tells JJ, he’s surprised, but he doesn’t question her too much about it. She assures JJ she’s fine and that she’ll go to any group sessions he wants to have. She’s there for him.

It’s gratifying that JJ believes her.

It’s also a little terrifying.

That JJ believes her so completely.

Even when she doesn’t deserve his trust at all.

-o-

Pope finds her one day, knocking at the front door after JJ’s at work. He looks serious, like something terrible has happened, and Kiara can’t help it if she doesn’t fear the worst.

An accident at work.

A problem with the boat.

The cancer’s back.

But Pope sits down on the couch and blurts out something else entirely. “You didn’t tell me JJ was having panic attacks.”

Kiara blinks, not sure how to respond. That’s not what she’s expecting. “It wasn’t a secret,” she says, and that’s an honest answer. “I guess it didn’t come up. You’ve been busy at school.”

He huffs, shaking his head. “This is one of the reasons I can’t be away anymore,” he says. “JJ’s literally been having panic attacks, and no one told me.”

“I didn’t make a point of telling anyone,” she says with a shrug. “Everyone else knows because they’ve just – been here.”

She’s not saying it to be cruel, but it comes out that way. JJ’s had them at work, so Cleo knows. And when they’re bad, John B is the only one to call, so he knows, too. And if John B knows, then Sarah knows. It’s not a secret, but it’s also not something she’s going to talk about widely. “How did you even find out?” she asks.

“John B let it slip, talking about JJ’s therapy,” Pope snaps. “You all knew and no one told me!”

He’s clearly offended by the omission, and Kiara wants to point out that not telling someone something isn’t the same as lying, but honestly, she’s not sure she believes that either. She’d be pissed, too, but she’s also not wrong.

“It’s not really my place to talk about it,” Kiara says.

This time, Pope snorts. “We all went through JJ’s cancer, Kie. All of us, good and bad,” he says. “But now it’s not our place?”

He’s indignant, and he’s not wrong. She knows she’s not exclusively invested in JJ’s sickness and recovery, and she doesn’t have some kind of precedence over the other Pogues for JJ’s love.

But she’s the one who lives with him. She’s the one who sleeps with him.

That’s not better, because you can’t rank this shit.

It is, however, different. “That’s the thing, though,” she says. “JJ lost so much of his volition during his treatment. He gave it all up, Pope. Now that he’s getting it back, I can’t just take it from him again, not even for his friends.”

Pope sits back, jaw tight, refusing to yield. “But everyone else knew.”

“Everyone else was here,” Kiara points out.

“But you called John B,” Pope says, and he shakes his head. “You called him for help.”

Kiara sighs, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, because he’s John B.”

Now Pope looks a little hurt. “JJ is my best friend, too,” he says, chest puffing out a little. “I don’t want to be left out.”

The point is valid. And she knows that JJ wouldn’t hide it from Pope, even if Pope would never understand it quite like John B. “Okay,” she says. “So he has panic attacks. He’s started with therapy, and they’ve diagnosed him with PTSD.”

“From the cancer treatment?” Pope asks, frowning a little. “I’ve read that it’s not uncommon, especially for patients who are on life support. It can be quite traumatic not being in control of your body.”

Kiara does her best not to grimace as she thinks about it. That was her call; she made it.

She caused some of JJ’s trauma.

The fact that he’s alive to endure the trauma is something.

But still.

She sighs, shrugging a little. “I’m not sure it’s that simple,” she says. “I mean, he’s unpacking all his shit. The stuff with Luke. His mom. Between the abuse and the poverty and the abandonment – JJ probably had PTSD well before he ever got diagnosed.”

Pope nods and he seems to draw himself up, as if he’s reconciled all of it. Pope’s mind is orderly that way, keeping everything in its place. He’s made sense of something, and he’s resolved in it. “All the more reason, then,” he says.

She’s not sure what he’s talking about. It’s self-evident to Pope, maybe, but it’s not a logic she’s following. “Reason for what?”

“For us all to be involved,” he says. “I mean, I’ve read a little research on therapy. The best results usually involve a group effort. Family therapy where all members are equally invested tends to turn out better than solo efforts. Because when the entire support structure is on the same page, of course it’s better.”

This makes sense, and it makes Kiara’s gut turn a little. She thinks about Sheila, and how disappointed she’d looked when Kiara stopped going.

And here Pope is, making it feel like the most selfish decision she’s ever made.

“Like I said, I started doing research,” Pope says, and his voice is picking up steam now. He’s not enthusiastic about PTSD recovery, to be sure, but he is passionate about helping his friends any way he can. “I can sift through the conclusions and come up with some things all of us can do. Things with proven results, you know?”

She blinks. She’s sure, on some level, she does know. He says it so obvious that it’s hard to even think she disagrees. Especially since what he’s saying is about helping JJ.

Isn’t that what it’s about?

Helping JJ?

“Well, the doctor has some specific things he’s working on,” Kiara says feebly.

“And we’ll just do things that supplement it,” he says. He pauses and sighs. “Kie, I want to help. I want him to be okay. We’ve always overlooked it before, and I don’t want to do it now.”

She does know. She overlooked it more than Pope, she’s sure. She hadn’t even really put it together, just how terrible JJ’s life was, until he fell apart in the hot tub. It had been her wake up call. When she’d finally understood JJ’s shit.

“And this kind of stuff is good for all of us,” he reasons. “The more we talk about things, ask each other if we’re okay, and ground our entire discourse in affirmation. I mean, we’ve all been through shit. It’s going to help all of us.”

“Yeah,” Kiara says, because what else can she say. What else does she want to say? “You’re right. That sounds good.”

He brightens, clearly relieved to have her support. “Really?”

“Just get the bullet points together,” she says, mustering up a smile. “I’m sure everyone else will be on board, too.”

He gets up, clearly excited. “That’s great!” he says. “I’ll get on it right away and have some stuff ready in a few days. I think this is going to help, Kie. I really do!”

Pope doesn’t need further encouragement, which is good. Kiara has offered him as much as she can, and now it’s all she can do to get up and follow him as he bounces out the door. Pope has a plan, after all. Pope sees a way through this.

Kiara has to think that’s a good thing.

Because at least that makes one of them.

-o-

Surviving cancer was a group effort.

Building a life after it, as it turns out, is much the same. This is how they do things as Pogues: together. Their failures and their struggles. Their successes and their achievements.

It’s how they found the Merchant gold. It’s how they found the cross of Santo Domingo. It’s how they survived Poguelandia and found El Dorado.

It’s how they survived cancer.

It’s how they’ve grown up.

It’s foolish to think it happens any other way.

Just together.

-o-

It’s work, though. Pope comes up with his bullet points, and they talk openly about it. It’s a little surreal, given everything, when they sit around and talk about mental health as if it’s totally normal. They talk about triggers and coping mechanisms, in a judgment-free and totally supportive way. It becomes part of their lexicon with Pope’s help.

It becomes part of their lives.

And it’s not just Pope, either. Everyone is keen to help out. Cleo is mindful of JJ at work, and John B effortlessly senses when JJ is getting a little wound up. He develops a few keywords to help him start the process of unwinding. Sarah is big into setting the stage, and she will make you a cup of tea and offer you some chocolate until you sit down and breathe.

It starts for JJ, of course. But as it turns out, they all need it. The last few years have left them damaged in their own ways, and it helps them all to talk about what they’re feeling and why. John B has to deal with the loss of his father. Pope has to understand the reality of his parents’ expectations. Cleo is an orphan and an illegal immigrant. Sarah’s lost her entire family, and both her father and her brother have tried to kill her.

And Kiara’s parents tried to kidnap her, and she emancipated herself, and she may or may not want to make amends. Also, she can’t sleep sometimes and has panic attacks, but she’s more fine than the rest of him.

She’s sure of it.

She’s fine.

She is.

The thing that matters is that everyone is getting better, and that it’s not weird anymore for JJ to talk about when he’s scared, when he’s hurting, when he’s angry, when he can’t.

That’s the first step, after all. You have to acknowledge the problem.

The second step is facing it.

Next, you heal.

Then, and only then, do you grow.

You change, you evolve, you become.

They’re all getting there; she will too, someday. She’ll make up with her parents. She’ll let go of her need to micromanage every detail of JJ’s life. She’ll stop being scared that she’ll wake up and he’ll be gone.

She’ll be herself someday, too.

Just not yet.

-o-

Sometimes, she knows it’s stupid. Sometimes, she knows she’s being dumb. Sometimes, she hates herself for it, she does. Sometimes, she wants to tell them all she has no idea what she’s doing. That she’s scared – terrified – and she doesn’t even know who she is when she looks in the mirror.

Sometimes she wants to admit she watches them grow and feels jealous.

But she has to let go first.

And every time she tries, her fists are still wound tight, ready to fight.

-o-

As per usual, it’s John B and Sarah who take the lead. They make the first change.

A little more than two months after Pope moves in with Cleo and resumes studies remotely, Sarah comes by all smiles. It’s halfway through lunch before Cleo squints at her.

“Girl, what the hell is that?” she demands.

Kiara blinks, surprised. Then, she sees it, too.

The diamond ring on Sarah’s finger.

That finger.

“We’re getting married!” Sarah announces, her face beaming and her entire body almost ready to burst with apparent joy.

Kiara finds herself gaping. At the ring. At Sarah’s unabashed joy. At married.

“But,” Kiara starts. She tries to figure out her response and fails. Flustered, she manages to say, “Aren’t you married already?”

Sarah’s look is plaintive. “I’m not saying that saying our wedding vows under the stars on the ocean and exchanging a piece of a bandana isn’t romantic,” she says. “But there are other things I wanted from a wedding.”

Cleo nods, a little matter of fact. “The boy can afford more than a bandana now,” she says. “He might as well put a ring on it.”

Sarah grins at the affirmation. “Exactly! And it’s not like John B doesn’t want to do it. He proposed to me. With only minimal prompting and hints.”

Kiara finds that claim dubious. “How long have you been working on this?”

“Not going to lie,” Sarah says. “Basically since the El Dorado money came in.”

“So you have a date?” Kiara asks.

Now Sarah hesitates in earnest. So Kiara prepares herself for something ridiculous.

“Um, yeah,” she says. And she makes a face like she’s sorry, fiddling with the oversized ring on her finger. “We were thinking we didn’t want to drag it out.”

“Since you’re already married—” Cleo points out

“So, I don't know,” she says even though she does. “Three weeks?”

Kiara had thought she was prepared.

She isn’t.

She chokes on her next words. “Three weeks?”

Sarah looks baleful, as if she doesn’t understand their dismay. “Is that cool? Do you have plans?” she asks, looking frantically from Kiara to Cleo. “We haven’t hired anyone just yet, but the caterer is available.”

Right, as long as the caterer is available. Sarah is so plaintive about it, that Kiara doesn’t know how to express her total surprise. Next to her, Cleo seems to be in a similar predicament.

But Sarah’s waiting for an answer, so Kiara finally manages to take a breath. “That’s just – soon.”

“Very soon,” Cleo agrees.

Sarah shrugs, as if this is a non-issue. “Well, technically we already got married, so we didn’t really want to wait, you know? But we want you all to be there. You have to be there.”

Kiara’s mind reels, but despite the shock, there’s no good reason to say no, is there? What life does she have, anyway? Outside of JJ and the charter? What else would she possibly be doing?

“It’s still early; we can hire out the bookings that day,” Cleo says as she considers it.

“I’m sure JJ won’t mind,” Kiara adds.

Sarah’s face brightens. “So it’s good? You’ll be there?”

“Of course we’ll be there,” Kiara says, because that’s the point, right? All of this, doing it together, that’s the point. “And I mean, I can help out with anything you need leading up.”

Cleo nods. “You’re going to need a lot of help. Three weeks, girl!”

It’s what Sarah is hoping to hear. Honestly, it’s what Sarah needs to hear. Her smile, which had been nervous, is growing steady, stronger, surer. “Thank you!” she squeals, clapping her hands a little. “I’m so excited. I know it’s a lot to plan my dream wedding in three weeks, but I’m ready, guys. I’m just so ready.”

-o-

As it turns out, planning a dream wedding in three weeks isn’t just ambitious.

It’s damn near impossible.

But Sarah is determined. And Cleo and Kiara refuse to let her down. The planning commences with a flurry that very day, and they settle the caterer, set the menu, hire a DJ, and secure the florist. Cleo sets out to book an officiant, and Kiara calls around to get rentals for chairs, tables, and other decorations. They go dress shopping in Charleston and find just the right dresses for all of them, but somehow the to-do list only gets longer the more they check shit off.

Kiara isn’t sure everything is actually going to get done, but it’s not going to be for a lack of trying. And it won’t be because of her. She takes on the role of full-time wedding planner without being asked, and she gives Sarah all her days and all her nights, putting together wedding favors until 3 AM and hand-crafting invitations to get out in the mail.

There’s hardly a minute to herself, and most days, she gets back even later to JJ. She flops into bed, all but exhausted, and JJ spoons her with a grin.

“Ugh,” she says. “I don’t know why people get married.”

“Well, I heard it’s because people love each other,” he jokes, nuzzling her neck. She knows what he wants; she just doesn’t know if she has the energy.

“Mmm,” she murmurs, turning toward him and kissing him a little. “It’s an archaic, patriarchal farce.”

“For love,” he says, letting his hands roam a little. “Right?”

She grunts, rolling him back and turning herself on top of him. The covers slip away and she sees the planes of his chest. “You don’t need a piece of paper,” she says, leaning over to kiss him.

He leans up into her, making a small noise of agreement. She reaches down, fiddling with the hem of his underwear, starting to pull it down. Getting up, she moves to make short work of them and stops cold.

Because JJ’s got a bruise.

There, on his hip. The same place as that first bruise.

The one they’d shown the doctor.

That bruise.

Her breathing catches, and she freezes. JJ looks down, blinking in a panic. “No, no, no,” he says quickly, trying to bring her attention back around. “Seriously, I know what that’s from. I was on the boat–”

“You said that before,” she remembers, staring at him in shock. It’s like history playing over again in front of her, and the impossibility of reliving it almost makes her go lightheaded.

“But it’s true,” he says. “I dropped some boards, you know? And I caught them on my hip, right? I knew it was going to bruise. Cleo was there. She saw it–”

“You said that before,” she says, shaking her head. Her body is going numb.

“Kiara,” he says, sitting up now and moving her to the side until they’re sitting face to face. His hands are on her shoulders, as if to ground her. “Kiara, I swear. These are just bruises. I know exactly when they happened. Cleo caught some, too. She’s got bruises all up and down her leg.”

He’s being so thorough. He’s being so confident.

She remembers to breathe, the oxygen flooding back in her mind.

“Kiara, I swear,” he says. “This isn’t cancer. It’s not back. I’m fine.”

“You said that before, too,” she replies, softer now, as the fear plays through her mind.

He slumps a little, as if the reminder threatens to break him too. “It’s different,” he says, and he reaches out and hugs her. “These are going to heal. You’ll see.”

“But this is what you do,” she says into his shoulder. “Deny, deny, deny–”

“Not anymore,” he says, pulling back again. His blue eyes are so earnest that she can’t doubt him. “I know better now. And Kiara? These are just bruises. I promise you. If I thought it was something more, I’d book the appointment with Dr. O’Brien myself.”

She swallows, and finally gives a tentative nod. “You promise.”

He nods, eyes not leaving hers. “I promise.”

She nods back, then, and pulls herself back into his embrace. “Okay,” she says, as he holds her. He pulls her back down to the bed, spooning her gently. “Okay.”

-o-

The bruises are still there in the morning, and Kiara struggles with her doubt. JJ is overly demonstrative in his confidence, apparently set to reassure her, but it only works a little. She lets herself be distracted by the wedding planning because she doesn’t know what else to do. If she thinks about the possibility of the cancer returning, she’ll fall apart.

She’s not sure she could do it again. She’s just not sure.

It’s not JJ who reverts to deny, deny, deny anymore. Kiara is giving him a run for his money, honestly. Because what the hell else is she supposed to do?

There are answers, of course. About facing her fears and dealing with her issues. But for now, denial works just fine. And will work just fine.

Until the day it doesn’t.

But that day is not today.

-o-

The wedding comes together, by some miracle. All the details are in order, and Sarah and John B are set to host the event of the season in miracle time.

JJ’s bruise heals, and there are no other symptoms. There’s no secondary bruise, and she checks his skin nightly just to be sure.

JJ’s fine, in the end. That’s easy to see.

Kiara’s less sure about herself, but there’s no time to worry about that.

-o-

For a spur of the moment wedding, pulled together in three weeks time, it’s remarkable. Sarah and John B stage the whole thing on the front yard of the Chateau as they make it official. They stand in front of the tree overlooking the marsh, and Heyward caters the reception. Kiara and Cleo are bridesmaids, and Pope is the groomsman. JJ is the best man.

She helps him get ready, buttoning up his shirt and adjusting the belt as he fusses with the shorts John B has picked out for them. “They’re too tight,” he complains.

She rolls her eyes. “They’re just fitted,” she says. “They look nice.”

He stops squirming long enough to hear what she’s saying. “Kiara Carrera, are you turned on by skinny jeans?”

“These are simply tailored shorts that fit,” she says. She straightens his shirt with a smirk. “But I won’t lie that skinny jeans look nice.”

He grins at her, clearly enjoying this now. “I just thought I was too skinny,” he says. “That it made me look, I don’t know. 12.”

“You’re perfect,” she tells him, reaching up to tousle his hair. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

Because he’s regained the weight lost. He’s rebuilt his muscle mass. His face has filled out again, and the color has returned to his cheeks. His blonde hair is as long and unruly as ever, and anyone who looked at him would never guess that 18 months ago, he’d nearly died.

She’d been there, every step of the way. She’d seen him wither away, and she’d been the one to agree to the intubation and sedation that he nearly didn’t come back from. It’s such a stark thing to think about, how close he’d come. To see him so vibrant, so alive, sometimes she can’t believe it.

He blushes now, fast and furious across his cheekbones. “You’re talking shit.”

“I mean it,” she says, and she steals a kiss, her makeup be damned. “Now, you go and make sure John B doesn’t screw something up.”

“He’s doing great,” JJ says. “Only throwing up a few times in the bathroom.”

Kiara rolls her eyes, but suddenly wonders if JJ is exaggerating. “Just – get him down the aisle.”

JJ taps his heels together and brings himself up erectly. “Yes, ma’am,” he says with a salute.

She bites her lip, eyeing the cut of his shorts again. “And you better save me the first dance, Maybank.”

“The first and last,” he says, bending down to kiss her. “And all the ones in between.”

As he walks away, she’s grinning. It’s Sarah’s wedding, sure.

But Kiara is sure as hell looking forward to it, too.

-o-

That’s later, though. Before she can enjoy anything, she has to make sure this wedding happens. That means making sure Sarah is ready.

Physically.

And emotionally.

For someone who is already married, Sarah is suddenly quite anxious. About everything.

About her dress, about her hair. About the guest list, about the menu. About John B and the Chateau and whether or not she’s doing the right thing at all.

Cleo seems about ready to lose her shit with all the nonsense, and Kiara finds that she’s the one who has to be the voice of reason.

“Sarah, relax,” she says, fluffing her hair for the fiftieth time. “Everything is perfect.”

Sarah sighs, shaking her head. “I think the dress is too big,” she says, adjusting it as she looks in the mirror. “Should I have gotten a strapless one?”

“You look beautiful, and the dress is perfect,” Kiara assures her. “You’re just nervous.”

Sarah laughs so hard that she almost cries. She’s still shaking when Kiara takes her by the shoulders and tries to smile. “I am nervous, aren’t I?”

“Just a touch,” Kiara says, wrinkling her nose at the understatement.

Sarah’s breath catches, and she shakes her head. “But I mean, it is my wedding day.”

“You are technically already married,” Cleo mutters from where she’s fussing with the bouquets.

“The last time was on a boat and he gave me a bandana,” Sarah says. “This is a little different!”

“I know, I know,” Kiara says, interceding as best she can before Cleo can say anything else. Cleo’s an excellent friend, and she’s the most practical of them all. But Sarah is in no condition for that kind of pragmatism.

Not if they’re all going to survive the day, anyway.

“It is, which is why you need to calm down and enjoy it,” she says. “You’re not on the run. You’re not stranded or stuck or fugitives. This time, it’s the way you want it. You and John B, just like it’s always been meant to be.”

It’s the right thing to say, and Sarah takes a long slow breath before letting it out. She nods a few times and breathes again before giving Kiara a smile. “You know, we almost weren’t.”

Kiara drops her hands from Sarah’s shoulders, tipping her head to the side. “What?”

“When the money came in. After we bought the surf shop and rebuilt the Chateau,” she says. “It just got – weird. Like we couldn’t figure out who we were without a treasure hunt to bring us together.”

Kiara doesn’t know what to say to that. She’s aware, if only vaguely, that her mouth is hanging open, and she glances at Cleo, who looks away.

This is something she already knows, apparently.

Kiara looks back at Sarah with a vague sense of dread now. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, we were drifting apart,” she says. “I was thinking about breaking up with him and moving out, trying it on my own. Things just weren’t working.”

It’s a revelation. She’s sure Sarah would have wanted to tell her; there’s only one reason why she wouldn’t.

Sarah’s shoulders slump. “At first, I was in denial and didn’t want to talk about it,” she explains. Then, she shrugs, a little helpless. “But then JJ got sick–”

And the world had stopped. Kiara had drawn herself in, her focus so singular on JJ that she’d not focused at all on her friends. She’d not let herself once consider how they were doing, if they were struggling.

If they were falling apart, too. “Sarah, you should have told me,” she says. “If you were struggling.”

Now, she’s quick to shake her head. “We were,” she explains. “But when JJ got sick, it all just fell back into place. Everything made sense again.”

Kiara feels herself flinch. “What?”

“I’m not saying it’s a good thing JJ got sick, I’m not,” Sarah says quickly, as if to reassure Kiara. Now, she’s the one reaching out, a hand on Kiara’s arm “I’m just saying it gave us perspective. It made us remember what matters and why we were together in the first place. Our Vlad and Val thing – it wasn’t just about treasure. It was about each other.”

Kiara isn’t sure what to say, and she stands silently while Sarah composes herself to finish. Cleo has put the flowers down to listen, nodding in agreement.

“It was that way for all of us,” Cleo says. “We all got perspective we needed to make the best choices. All that money and all that fame – and this let us be grounded so we knew what mattered.”

“And I saw how hard he fought – for you. And how hard you fought – for him,” Sarah says with a wistful little shrug. “And I remembered what love looked like. I remembered what living looked like, maybe for the first time since my dad – went crazy or whatever and blew my whole family up.”

She knows that Sarah’s had a rough home life. Kiara’s had her difficulties, sure. Her parents having her kidnapped isn’t easy to forget. Ward Cameron isn’t quite Luke Maybank – that’s true. But the spectacular downfall of the Cameron legacy had hardly left Sarah unscathed.

Part of her feels guilty, really. She should have been a better friend to Sarah. For all the shit that she gave Sarah about her Kook year, it wasn’t like she was being a great friend after El Dorado. They’d all had their own shit to deal with; they’d all had their own fallout to make sense of. They’d all focused on themselves, for a while. It had been the only way to rebuild any kind of future after – well, everything.

They’d been kids, is the thing. They’d just been kids.

When JJ had gotten his diagnosis, it forced all of them to grow up. Right then, right there. When someone you love is dying, you have to figure out how to live.

It was true for her.

She can’t be so blind as to not see that it’s true for the rest of them, too.

With that realization, Kiara doesn’t actually know what to do. It’s crazy, really, how she’s come so far and how quickly she feels like she’s back at square one. Her chest feels tight, and her eyes are burning. Suddenly, all she can do is reach out and wrap her arms around Sarah, pulling her tight.

Sarah hugs her back, just as tight, and Cleo joins in, arms around them both.

“I’m just so happy we’re all here,” Sarah says into her hair. “I’m so happy.”

Kiara squeezes her eyes shut, trying her best not to cry. It’s not sadness, though. Sarah’s right: it’s joy.

It’s pure joy.

“Yeah,” she says. “Me, too.”

-o-

When they stop hugging, Kiara fusses over Sarah’s hair, makeup, and dress. It’s a low-key wedding, maybe, and Sarah’s not a Kook princess anymore, but yeah. She’s the bride and it’s her wedding day and hell yes Kiara is going to make sure she’s the most beautiful girl on the island.

Sarah’s wedding is perfectly Sarah. Frills and fancy, but surprisingly simple at its core. She’s clearly spared no expense, but the extravagances are more about giving to others than for just herself. It’s her day, yes. But she wants to share it.

It’s about family, really. Sarah has lost one family.

This wedding cements another.

The Pogues are there. Some of Sarah’s old Kook friends come. Business owners and acquaintances, even Shoupe from the sheriff’s office.

The exterior is decorated with lights and flowers with a hand made gazebo installed near the big tree out front. Looking out over the marsh, the scene is perfect, and all Kiara can think is just how perfect it is.

That Sarah is marrying John B. That they’re doing it here, on the yard of the rebuilt Chateau. That the town is here, Pogue and Kook, maybe how it’s supposed to be.

Kiara stands on one side, holding the bouquet while Sarah says her vows. JJ is on the other side, standing a little too straight in his new shirt and shorts.

When John B and Sarah kiss, the crowd cheers. JJ’s eyes meet hers across the aisle.

This is it, Kiara realizes as John B and Sarah kiss. Her eyes are locked on JJ’s and he’s figured it out before she has.

This is it.

This is what happily ever after looks like.

-o-

It’s quite the party, needless to say. The reception is fully decked out with plenty of food, booze, and dancing.

Kiara, for her part, enjoys all three.

The food – hell, yes. It’s been such a busy day trying to make this wedding happen, she hasn’t had a chance to eat at all. And the booze – well, how could that be a no? A lot of things have changed for the Pogues, but not everything.

And the dancing.

Kiara finds the beat on most songs, and she likes the thumping noise on the dance floor as JJ presses close to her. He’s ridiculous, her boy. He’s stupid and over the top and she loves him.

When the tempo slows down, he gives her a look. She rolls her eyes and pulls him close. He looks relieved, relaxing himself as he holds her, and they sway back and forth as the melody rises and falls through the night.

It’s not a big crowd, but it’s big enough to get lost in, and Kiara knows this night is about Sarah and John B, but she can’t help it if she’s only looking at JJ. There are times, even now, when she’s afraid to let him go, like he could slip through her fingers and disappear. It’s silly, but only in the way that trauma is silly, which is to say not silly at all.

There are worse things, after all. JJ still struggles with nightmares and panic attacks, sometimes so bad that John B has to come over to help him get his head back on straight. She hates seeing him like that, when his fear takes over, and she thinks her momentary lapses aren’t nearly so bad.

When it hits him, he’s down for the count. When it hits her, she just has to pause, breathe, and get herself together. JJ’s had a lifetime of trauma, and he’s only just started to build healthy coping techniques. By contrast, Kiara is okay.

She holds him closer, breathes in his scent, and she’s okay.

“You’re doing that thing,” JJ muses.

She glances up at him. He’s been watching her this whole time. “What?”

He smiles, and they’re still rocking to the music. “You’re thinking too much,” he says. “And you’ve got a death grip on my shirt.”

She realizes he’s right; her fingers are fisted into the back of his collar. She reddens, easing her fingers. “Sorry,” she says, feeling sheepish somehow. Maybe her trauma is a bit more pronounced than she lets herself admit.

“Are you actually apologizing?” he asks with his eyebrows up.

Feeling even more sheepish, this time she smiles. “No,” she says. “I think sometimes I still struggle to remind myself that it’s real. That we made it this far.”

It’s not hard to admit it, not to JJ. Not because he gets it. “I know,” he says. “You’re the one always lecturing me: it’s okay to be not okay.”

At this, she laughs. “So you are listening?”

“Only because you say it so often,” he bemoans. Then, after several more beats, he says, “But you’re okay?”

Now, she nods. She nods with certainty, because she is. Even when she’s not, she is. Because JJ is here, JJ is with her – and she knows how close they came to something very, very different.

“I’m fine,” she says. And then she adds, “I’m more than fine. I’m good. I’m great.”

She looks at JJ, just looks at him and her whole chest swells. She loves him. She loves him so damn much that it actually hurts.

Blinking hard, she looks back around at the wedding reception. Across the lawn, John B and Sarah are snuggled close. Pope and Cleo are, too. All of them, finding their place in this world and with each other.

The trepidation she feels sometimes is real.

But so is this. This peace. This contentment. This joy.

She looks back at JJ. “I mean, just look around. This is so nice.”

“What’s nice?” he asks, easing her across the grass as the other couples oscillate closer.

“The wedding,” she says, and she shrugs despite herself. It’s not quite surrender. Maybe it’s just acceptance for her, the inevitable pull of reality as she holds him close. Her heart flutters and she swallows as she stares into his blue eyes. “All of it.”

JJ is genuinely surprised, and the way his eyes widen makes him look so young. He’s so perfect, and she loves him. She just does. “I thought you weren’t into that traditional shit,” he says. “I thought you hated it all.”

“I’m not into it,” she says, but she falters, not sure what she wants to say. They’re still moving, but Kiara can’t feel the beat anymore. She feels like she’s moored to something different; she’s moored to him. “I mean. I wasn’t.”

That clarification matters. To her, at least. They’ve survived cancer, the two of them – all of them – but not everything survived. Her naivete – that’s obviously gone. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? That brashness, that confidence. That surety and self-righteousness. Because she knows how to doubt herself now, she also knows how to find what’s real. It’s not until she understands her own fragility that she can find out what being strong means.

It’s not so much that she’s changed. It’s just that she knows who she is now. She knows what she wants. Her whole perspective has changed, a shift so subtle and still so profound.

He’s watching her, hands still on her hips as he sways. He cocks his eyebrows, but seems to think better than to say something.

She capitulates anyway. “It’s just different when it’s you, right? Like it’s not cliche. It’s not going through the motions or checking the boxes,” she says, trying to explain it as much as she’s grappling to understand it. “It’s not about what society says you should do. It’s two people who are in love and they want everyone to know it.”

He acts casual when she says it, but he’s not good at pretending around her. She clocks his affectation immediately. He’s holding his feelings back. “Doesn’t seem so bad,” is all he says.

“Doesn’t seem bad at all,” Kiara agrees with a careful calculation of him. She nods around, but brings her eyes back to JJ. “I mean, is this something – you want?”

“It’s not something I thought I’d ever get,” he admits. “I mean. Family. I never thought – I mean. I’m a Maybank.”

Her chest clenches a little. “Any girl would be lucky to call you her husband.”

He hesitates, looking back at her. His face goes a little pale and his breath catches as he looks at her, only her, like it’s just the two of them on this dance floor. “Maybe not any girl.”

She’s caught up, too, then. The two of them. “Not any girl,” she agrees.

It’s funny, then. The way time stands still. The way the moment locks, just the two of them. It’s like a movie, really. The way everything is suspended and it’s just her and JJ.

He’s standing there, the words on his lips, but he’s afraid to say them.

She’s afraid, too, but it’s okay. She takes a breath and finds her voice. She finds herself, somehow. Like she’s been there all along and she’s just waiting to get out.

“I could do a happily ever after,” she says softly. She blinks at him, lost in his eyes. “If you think you could.”

He wets his lips and swallows. He nods a little. “Yeah,” he says. “I definitely think I could.”

She smiles, then. Her heart fluttering as she holds him closer. It feels like a promise, somehow. Something pledged between them, soft and gentle and real.

And she knows how well they keep their promises to one another.

-o-

The reception stretches into the night, until it’s just the six of them under the moonlight. Sarah is starting to pick up when Kiara shoos her off. “It’s your wedding night.”

“But the yard—“ Sarah starts to protest.

“We can handle the yard,” Kiara says with a roll of her eyes. “It’s literally your wedding night.”

“But—“ Sarah starts to protest.

“Yo, Sarah!” JJ interjects from nearby where he’s bagging up trash. “Don’t be cruel to your husband the very first night. Like, wait a week at least. After the honeymoon.”

Sarah looks at John B, who is standing balefully on the front lawn. She blushes and offers her hand. “What do you say?”

John B takes it gratefully. “I say I’m ready for the conjugal bed.”

Sarah giggles while JJ makes a face and Cleo whoops a little. Pope says, “I don’t think I needed that detail.”

“Yeah, I think we assumed,” JJ muses.

“Shut up,” John B says, leading Sarah past them all and up the stairs. He sweeps her up, appropriately bridal style, and grins, looking at her and only her. “I’m taking care of my wife.”

They all whoop this time while Pope groans, and John B ushers Sarah across the threshold and closes the door behind them.

Because endings and beginnings are kind of the same thing, when you think about it. It’s all about perspective, in the end.

Chapter Text

-o-

CHAPTER SIX

-o-

The offer to clean up the Chateau is genuine. Kiara’s pretty sure, however, that none of them anticipated just how much of a mess there was. It’s pushing dawn by the time they’re done, and the whole group of them is so exhausted that they flop into the chairs on the porch of the Chateau. John B and Sarah have had the courtesy to shut the windows, at least. So there’s privacy for all of them for once.

This is mostly for John B and Sarah’s benefit. Kiara’s pretty sure the rest of them are so exhausted that they can’t move, not even for conjugal bliss.

“I should have just given them janitorial services as a wedding present,” Cleo moans. She’s lounging against Pope, both of them sharing the loveseat.

“At this point, we’re better off just staying awake,” Pope says, as though that’s a rational answer and not his exhaustion short-circuiting his brain.

“How is that better?” Kiara scoffs. She’s curled upon the couch, her head in JJ’s lap as he runs his fingers through her hair.

“To sleep now would totally disrupt our REM cycles,” Pope says, as if he’s reciting something. “Long term, that’ll make recovery so much worse.”

“Long term?” JJ says. “Pope, we just have to get through the day, bro.”

Cleo murmurs against Pope’s neck. “He’s right, you know.”

Pope starts to protest. “But the research–”

“If you lecture us about research right now, I may throw you in one of the trash bags and put you out on the curb, too,” Kiara threatens. “You’re at least biodegradable.”

Pope looks mortally wounded. Cleo laughs.

JJ tips his head back against the couch with a lazy little sigh. They’re tired, that’s certain. But not in a bad way.

“It’s so weird,” he says.

They all lapse into silence, letting the dawn agree with him.

“John B and Sarah are married,” he says, and he shakes his head a little. “Like married married.”

“Kook shit?” Pope asks sleepily.

“Nah,” JJ says. “Just like – adult shit. Like, when did we grow up?”

Sometime after getting a small fortune.

Sometime after securing their future.

Sometime after JJ got sick.

Sometime after they all came back to life.

Sometime.

JJ hums for a second. From her position on his lap, she can see every line of his face, silhouetted by the morning sun. “It used to scare the shit out of me,” he says. “Growing up.”

Cleo looks at him with half lidded eyes. “But not anymore?”

JJ lifts his head a bit. “I’ve seen the alternative,” he says sagely. He grunts. “It’s shit.”

It’s an alternative they’ve all seen, for those weeks JJ was on life support, fighting to survive. That’s the alternative.

Pope tilts his head quizzically. He’s either overthinking it, or he’s just too tired to process rational thought anymore. “The lesser of two evils?”

JJ grins. “Just possibility,” he says. “It’s better than nothing.”

Cancer had offered him nothing.

This whole damn island had offered him nothing.

His own father had offered him absolutely nothing.

So yeah, possibility was something JJ understood better than the rest of them.

Pope looks half dumbfounded. “That’s surprisingly insightful.”

“You act awfully surprised,” JJ retorts. “The cancer didn’t kill all my brain cells–”

Now, Pope’s face wrinkles up. “That’s not how it works.”

“Yeah,” JJ says, his chest puffing up a little despite the fact that they’re all badly, badly sleep deprived. Or maybe because of it. “Because I kicked its ass.”

“No, that’s really not–” Pope starts.

“Aw, shut up,” Cleo says, taking Pope’s chin in her hands and giving him a little shake. She finishes by kissing him. “It’s close enough.”

JJ smirks proudly, as proudly as one can after pulling a wedding all nighter. “See?” he says. “Close enough.”

Kiara watches him and knows.

This is more than close enough.

This?

This is everything.

-o-

They all pass out on the porch, sleeping hard until John B and Sarah trudge out, bags packed, around noon. They’re both bleary eyed and blissful. The strung out, drunk look is not about alcohol, Kiara is pretty sure.

Sarah is keen to go, this much is true, and John B seems like he’s in shock. That he got married, maybe. That he got this beautiful woman to be his wife. That he’s really an adult now, doing adult things, and living the life he wants to live.

Because that’s it, right? It’s not about archaic traditions or societal norms. It’s about taking control and living on your own terms.

“Just thanks, guys,” John B says, and he’s sappy about it, giving everyone a hug. “For everything.”

“Yeah,” Sarah agrees, glancing at her phone. “We’re kind of late, though. Will you guys lock up?”

“Of course,” Kiara says.

“And we’ll check on things while you’re gone,” Cleo assures her.

“And I’m totally covering the shop this week,” Pope reports dutifully. “I’ve got it all figured out.”

Everything is completely taken care of, but JJ looks almost bereft. “Like, I can’t believe this is it.”

That’s a melodramatic way to say it, and Kiara makes a face. Pope cocks his head in confusion, and Cleo stifles a laugh.

John, B, though, nods earnestly. “I know, man.”

“Oh, my – really?” Sarah asks.

But John B and JJ aren’t listening. Overcome by their emotions, they hug instead. Kiara understands and appreciates the depth of their bond, but sometimes they don’t recognize just how ludicrous it is. They’re codependent idiots, is the thing. She doubts either of them would have survived to adulthood without the other, and it’s not just John B leaving for a week.

It’s the fact that things have changed so irrevocably.

John B is married. He’s fully committed to Sarah; he's an adult.

And those two idiot teenage boys are contending with that.

In that light, it’s kind of sweet.

It’s also just as ludicrous as it sounds.

“John B, I swear,” Sarah says, her exasperation showing. “You’re not going to war.”

Kiara stifles a laugh, but John B looks forlorn. “I know, but still—“

“It’s a week,” Sarah reminds him.

“Which is, like, a lifetime,” JJ interjects.

Sarah now looks incredulous. “A week,” she reiterates. “On your honeymoon. Which will be decidedly less fun if you make us miss our flight.”

John B’s eyes widen as he finally gets the implication. “Yeah, I got to go,” he says to JJ.

JJ nods solemnly back. “Yeah, you got to go.”

“Oh, for goodness sakes,” Cleo snickers. “John B is so pussy whipped, that JJ is following orders, too.”

“Hey, I’m looking out for my bro,” JJ says.

“And it is my honeymoon,” John B says.

Sarah huffs, now fully expectant. “Which is why it’s time to go,” she says decisively. “Now.”

“It’s good, man,” JJ says, ignoring all the rest. He hugs John B again. “We’ve got this. We’ll be here when you get back.”

John B buries his face in JJ’s hair one more time. “I know,” he says. “I know.”

-o-

It’s not quite much ado about nothing. It is much ado, and none of it has any consequence – but it matters to John B and JJ. And not in some dumb way, either. They’re grappling with adulthood; with the fact that they made it.

For all of them, this outcome has not been a given. All of them have faced obstacles to get here, and that matters. But John B and JJ had maybe just struggled to believe it was possible, and the surreal fact that they’re here is going to take them some time to adjust to.

Finding the gold; getting jobs. Settling down, getting married.

Surviving cancer.

You know, the normal shit.

As if anything Pogues do is normal at this point.

All the same, they see John B and Sarah off, and they close up things at the Chateau and go their separate ways. Pope is handling the shop for today, and it’s all Kiara can do to get JJ home in one piece emotionally.

She knows it’s a lot for him, but when she really thinks about it, it’s a lot for her, too. Her best friend is married, actually, legally married. Sarah and John B are husband and wife. They’re not just playing house anymore. They’re living it, building a life together.

She still remembers the way JJ looked last night. The way he’d stood by John B’s side, the way he’d held himself while delivering the toast. He’d risen to the occasion; he’d been just as much a man as John B.

It feels different, honestly.

JJ looks different.

Not the boy she fell in love with.

The man she’s building a future with.

“Can you believe it?” JJ says languidly, as he flops on the couch. “They actually did it.”

Kiara sits down next to him, throwing her legs across him comfortably. “They’ve been married for years.”

“Not like this,” JJ tells her. He runs his fingers through her hair. “Not like this.”

She tips her head up to look him in the eyes. “It’s not so bad, is it?”

His brow creases. “I didn’t say it was bad, did I?”

“You are freaking out a lot,” she points out.

“Sure, because it’s a big thing,” he says. “This is the real life stuff. Stuff I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to.”

Because of cancer; because of his poverty.

Because the odds against him had been so, so daunting.

“I knew,” she says, holding his eyes. His blue eyes are so clear. Deep like the ocean and just as inviting. They make her feel at home. “I never doubted you.”

He chuckles, fingers flitting through her hair. “Bullshit. You thought I was a goof when we met.”

“Well, you were kind of dumb,” she says, remembering the way JJ had been at 12. Lanky and loud-mouthed; he’d never thought before he spoke, and he was always getting into mischief. He made the dumbest choices, and he was the most fun.

“See?” JJ says. “You thought I was a screw up too!”

“I did not!” she protests, spreading her hand over his chest. “I thought you were capable of anything.”

“Skipping class and buying weed,” he muses.

“Being yourself,” she says. “You just lived. That’s why I loved being around you. You always wanted to live.”

He grows quiet. Thoughtful. “Isn’t that irony, then?”

“Hm?” she asks.

“I wanted to live, but really I didn’t have a clue,” he says. “I was faking it; all of it.”

She grows quiet, too, her smile falling. “You just needed a chance.”

“You gave me that chance,” he says.

She’s quick to shake her head. “You made that chance for yourself – you.”

“Nah,” he says. “I would have drowned without you – literally. And when we got back on the OBX, you didn’t let me spiral out of control. You just didn’t.”

“I did that all wrong,” she recalls. “I was oblivious to what you were going through.”

“No, I needed it,” he says. “I needed you.”

She doesn’t want to argue about that, not when there’s truth to both their points of view. But she wants him to know this much: “You know I needed you, too, right?”

He blushes, diverting his gaze. “Nah–”

“I did,” she says, looking at him fully until he shyly looks back. “I know you think I saved your life–”

“Uh, you did. Literally.”

“But you saved mine, too, JJ,” she says. “All this real life stuff. I’d still be making a mess of shit with my parents without you. We’re getting to do it together.”

He looks at her, studying her. And finally, he nods and smiles. “This real life stuff,” he says. “I’m glad I get to do it with you.”

She hums a little, drawing him closer for a kiss. “I’m glad I get to do it with you, too.”

-o-

It’s not a long week, in reality. JJ acts like it’s forever. He makes a big deal out of everything, belaboring over every shift at the surf shop and checking in on the Chateau twice a day like he’s suddenly worried about security despite the fact that John B hasn’t locked his doors in years.

It’s a little insane; it’s a little sweet. JJ needs the space to do it as he comes to terms with the fact that they’re growing up.

They actually made it.

-o-

John B and Sarah get back, full of stories. They share stories over beers in the backyard, talking about the mountains and the lake and the private cabin just the two of them. They saw a bear out their back window and spent time in the hot tub, just the two of them.

JJ just wants to know if weed is legal in Colorado, and when John B confirms that it is, JJ looks at Kiara and says they need to go, too.

They watch John B and Sarah holding hands, fingers laced together, eyes locking in spare moments. They look so happy together; complete.

They are happy together.

They are complete.

Yeah, she agrees. She and JJ need to go, too.

-o-

Life quickly settles back into a routine. A new routine; the same routine. JJ’s all-in at the charter, and business continues to boom. Kiara helps out more often than not, and she spends her free time hanging out with the girls or at the house with JJ. It’s getting easier, at least. Living her life.

JJ, for his part, is doing great. His health has shown no signs of relapse. He’s utterly vibrant and increasingly robust. He doesn’t take it for granted; he takes care of himself more. Kiara doesn’t have to remind him to eat his fruits and vegetables, and his intake of alcohol and weed has moderated substantially.

It’s not just physical either. JJ’s also taking care of himself emotionally. With his new sense of self-awareness, she’s seeing confidence in him like never before. He’s dealing with his shit, and he’s getting better.

Despite the early progress she’d made, Kiara knows she’s not on the same trajectory. Since quitting therapy for a second time, she hasn’t been back at all. Her focus is still on JJ and what he needs, and putting herself second just seems easier. She still can’t get her mind around it. There’s nothing wrong with her; nothing happened to her. She’s fine.

Except, of course, when she’s not.

She can see that look on Sheila’s face as she reminds her of this again.

Because JJ almost died.

And Kiara had a front row seat

They’re both different now, and Kiara can only pretend so long. Until she just can’t.

Usually she can hide it. She should know, however, that’s not the measure of success. She should also know JJ would notice.

Sooner or later, JJ would notice.

That’s how he finds her, sobbing and gasping in the shower. She hasn’t done this for awhile, but it’s not altogether unfamiliar. It hits her so hard and fast, though, that she can’t stop it. Somewhere, dimly, she hears Sheila saying I told you so.

But Sheila’s wrong. Kiara can get this back in check; she always does.

It’s only been a few minutes. She can get it together. She’s fine. She just needs to stop crying, she needs to get her breathing under control. And she’ll be fine.

“Kie?”

She goes still, very still, Holding her breath, she wills her body to stop, stop, stop.

“Kiara–”

She can’t keep it in, though. Not even for JJ. The sob escapes, and she has to catch herself on the side of the shower, keening.

JJ pulls the curtain back, and she can’t bring herself to look at him.

“Kiara–”

He turns the shower off, cutting off the water.

She wants to fight him; part of her needs to fight him. Her body is locked up tight with her vision blurred. She can’t – she can’t–

There’s a towel around her and his hands are on her shoulders, her arms, her back.

“You’re okay,” he says, and she realizes belatedly he’s climbed into the shower with her. He’s still wearing his clothes, wrapping Kiara up in a towel. “You’re okay.”

Her voice still isn’t working, but she lets him guide her out. Her legs are shaky as she steps over the lip of the tub, and he steadies her on the tile ground. After several seconds, she manages to clear her vision and her voice works enough. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. She takes a shaky breath. “I was fine.”

His arms are steady, but he doesn’t seem to take that answer at face value. “You’ve been in the shower for 30 minutes.”

Well, that’s no good. Kiara is a conservationist. Short showers are part of who she is.

There’s no comeback that softens it. “Oh,” she says finally.

He sighs, rubbing her down a little more and moving a few wet strands out of her face. “Kie, I know this isn’t the first panic attack you’ve had.”

The protests rise up in her just that fast. “I haven’t had that many–”

His expression tells her that he doesn’t believe her. “I’m not oblivious. And it’s not like I don’t know what a panic attack looks like.”

She has no response to that.

“Look,” he says. “I want to give you the space you need to do this your way, I do. But I wouldn’t be a good partner if I didn’t call you on your shit like you’ve called me on mine. The only reason I can function at all is because you pushed me to get the help I need. I can’t sit back and let you do this to yourself, not when there are things out there that can help.”

“I tried therapy, JJ–”

“Did you, though?” he says. “I know this shit, too. I know you get what you give.”

She purses her lips, pulling the towel out of his grip and wrapping herself a little more. “And it’s been great for you,” she says. “You’re the one who almost died.”

His next breath is almost exasperated. “Do we have to keep doing this?” he says. “You’re the one who had to watch it. I mean, I can’t even imagine what that felt like. I was unconscious for the worst of it, but you had to be there for every minute of it. If our roles were reversed, I swear, Kie, I don’t think I could have done it.”

“You could have, and you would have,” she says. She lets out a taut breath. “I mean, what else was I supposed to do? Let you die? Bury you? No, you do what needs to be done, and that’s it, that’s all.”

She’s crying again – and shaking. She feels herself tilting toward darkness, but JJ is fast to catch her, holding her up and pressing her head against his chest. “That’s what I’m talking about,” he says. “Kiara, you need this, too. I want us to get better together.”

She doesn’t know what to say, so she keeps herself there, focusing on her breathing and the sound of JJ’s heart.

He pulls her back and tips her head up to look at him. “Like, I want what Sarah and John B have. I want what Cleo and Pope have,” he says. “My shit was standing in the way of that, so I’m working on it. You have to get your shit out of the way, too, Kie. You just do.”

Which – shit. That’s not fair, is it? He’s not just asking her to save herself. He’s asking her to save him, too. They have to do it together. This isn’t cancer and life support. This isn’t a bone marrow transplant and a hail Mary.

This is the two of them. Growing up and facing their shit.

She’s always known that JJ is his own worst enemy.

As it turns out, she’s her own worst enemy, too.

She’s scared, though. She’s been scared since she first signed the emancipation papers and took control of her life. She’s been downright terrified.

“Will you help me?” she asks finally, holding his gaze.

He doesn’t flicker; he doesn’t hesitate. “Of course,” he says. He kisses her gently. “We’ll do it together.”

-o-

Kiara lets JJ take care of her, drying her off and helping her get dressed. He calls Cleo and tells her he won’t be in today, and Kiara vehemently protests, but he insists. She argues that the business matters, he can’t just cancel–

“The business is nothing compared to you,” he says. “Compared to us? You put your entire life on hold. I can take a day for you.”

That’s not a novelty, of course.

Letting him do it, however, is.

-o-

Kiara is feeling better, and she’s tempted to argue against going to therapy with JJ. He’s insistent, however, and she doesn’t have any valid reasons left to say no. She’s anxious about it, but Sheila is happy to see her. Sincerely so – there’s none of the smugness Kiara suspected.

She wonders if that was always in her head.

But it doesn’t matter.

If she’s going to do this, she’s going to do it. The right way, this time.

“Any reason you’ve decided to join us?” Sheila asks.

JJ looks at Kiara to let her answer.

Kiara clears her throat, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. “Well, I guess you were right,” she says. “I wasn’t dealing with me. At all.”

JJ reaches out and takes her hand. She glances at him, and he smiles.

“And I mean, JJ’s doing so well now – and I — I can’t keep up,” she says with a helpless little shrug. She looks back at Sheila. “If we’re going to build a future, I need to keep up.”

She thinks of Pope moving back home; Cleo expanding the business. John B and Sarah getting married. Everyone growing up and settling down. The happily ever afters they want.

“I want to keep up,” she says.

“Well,” Sheila says, tapping her pen on her notepad as she bobs her head in approval. “I think I can help you with that, Kiara. If you’re willing to put in the work.”

This time, Kiara nods. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

-o-

It’s not that Kiara likes going to therapy, it’s that she needs it. The first few weeks are still a struggle, but she starts to settle in. Once she trusts Sheila is looking out for her well-being, it helps. And once she starts identifying her own triggers, it helps more.

JJ is only too happy to help. They’ve already created an environment where it’s normal to talk about mental health, but now she’s addressing her needs, too. She’s staying active; she’s taking time. She’s doing the work.

She’s seen JJ through it. It’s not a clear cut, straight shot.

But step by step.

Slowly but surely.

It gets better.

Kiara gets better.

-o-

And it’s still about the Pogues. Sometimes, they all take the day off, working around Pope’s school schedule, and just spend time together. They pack up for the break with a cooler of beer and their surfboards.

Kiara likes those days, sitting on the sand with Sarah and Cleo, watching the boys on the waves. JJ’s found his groove since getting better, and the new, custom board does let him fly. He’s spectacular to watch; he always has been.

Coming in off a big one, he plants the board in the sand next to her and sits down on the towel, scrubbing his hand through his hair.

“That was nice,” she says with a nod. “I think you’re better now than you were when you were 16.”

He grins. “Well, I do have a way nicer board now.”

She chuffs. “Pretty sure that’s not it.”

“What?” he jokes. “You think my inner balance is helping my outer balance? Should we thank Sheila for my renewed ability to catch a wave?”

That bit makes her chuckle. “She might charge you extra if we told her.”

He nods in sage agreement. “I’ll keep it on the DL,” he says. He hesitates, looking out at the wave that John B is catching. He has a good run before wiping out into the crest. “What about you?”

“Huh?” Kiara asks, watching as John B bobs back up. Pope is prepping to take the next one.

“Why don’t you get out there?” he says.

It’s such an obvious question that it shouldn’t make her blink – but it does. She’s always loved surfing, just as much as any of the boys. She doesn’t remember how long it’s been – since before JJ got sick, she knows that.

It feels like forever.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says, and she nods at the girls. “We’ve just been chilling–”

“What? No way!” Sarah says. “We are not your excuse. I just find surfboards excessively boring now that I sell them all day.”

“And I’ll get out there later,” Cleo says, lounged on her towel. “Though I’m not nearly as talented as the rest of you all.”

“Which, I still can’t believe,” Sarah says. “All that time in the Caribbean, and you didn’t surf?”

“I was surviving, girl,” she says. “Not surfing.”

Sarah rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she says, and she looks back at Kiara. “I know you’ve been surviving, too, but I think that’s over now.”

“I don’t know,” Kiara says.

JJ nudges her. “No more surviving,” he says. He nods out at the waves. “I know you miss it.”

She looks out, and the waves are beautiful today. The sky is blue and the crests are white. The waves crash against the beach and she can still feel it, pulling deep in her soul. The ebb and flow of the tide, the surge of the water–

“You can use my board,” JJ says, eliminating any last excuse she can conjure up. “And the next wave is yours.”

-o-

It comes back to her, a familiar and well-worn routine. The ankle strap feels tight, and her arms feel stiff as she paddles. The rote muscle memory is still there, though, and she finds her spot out in the swells.

Looking back, she can see her friends on the shores. John B and Pope are bobbing on the waves nearby, cheering for her.

She moves herself, finding her balance as she sits up. The water moves beneath her, and her heart starts to pound in anticipation. She’s afraid of falling, face first, into the water. But you can’t ride a wave without the risk.

You just can’t.

She lets one swell pass her, and focuses on her breathing. She knows the water; she knows the sky. She knows herself.

The next one comes, better than the last, and she readies herself. Paddling into position, she finds the crest and pushes to her feet. Shaky and unsteady at first while the board rocks beneath her feet. She struggles to find her equilibrium, teetering for a second before it clicks into place. She finds her center and plants herself on the wave, moving with it while it surges and her board skims across the top.

And it’s everything. She remembers, then. How much she loves this; how much she needs it.

What it means to be alive.

It all comes back to her, like the rushing waves and the surging water. For the first time in years, it all comes back.

She comes back.

-o-

Kiara surfs all day. It only occurs to her later that she’s taken JJ’s board from him, but he’s only too happy to offer it up. He sits there on the sand, eyes shining and grin widening as she catches wave after wave.

She’s exhausted when they finally leave, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t want to leave.

“Can we come back soon?” Kiara asks.

JJ chuckles, loading up the board on his truck. “Hell, yeah.”

“I don’t even know where my board is,” she says, shaking her head. She can’t believe she let it go on this long.

“You know,” JJ says. “I think we can fix that.”

-o-

He takes her to the surf shop. Sarah is thrilled about it, showing them all the latest models. They pick out the perfect one for Kiara, the right size and shape and color.

“I’d order you a custom,” he says as he hands over his credit card. “But I don’t think you should wait.”

She just grins. “I think I’ve waited long enough.”

-o-

So, she starts surfing. She cajoles JJ all the time, after work and in the morning. She drags him there on their days off, and she daydreams about it when she’s at work. She reads the surf report, and catches up with the maritime conditions the way she used to when she was a kid.

And more than that. She looks at the water conditions. She’s aware of the pollution levels, and starts to read up on the local conservation efforts again. The water is calling to her, and she remembers her obligation to it.

Really, she remembers herself.

The new board is pretty sweet.

Finding her old self, though, is everything.

-o-

It’s a subtle change, really. The sense of buoyancy every morning. The eagerness when she starts the day. She’s looking forward to things. She’s not thinking about the past; she’s just looking at the future.

And it looks good.

-o-

When her parents text her next, it’s not entirely out of the blue. Her mother has maintained a semi-regular habit of texting her, even when Kiara doesn’t respond. She says hi or just that she’s thinking of her. Fond memories and well wishes. Little things.

Most of the time, Kiara ignores them.

This time, however, it makes her pause.

Hey! Dad’s been changing up the recipe for his famous gumbo again. He was trying to remember what spices he used to put in it, back when you were a teenager. I was telling him he needed more chili powder and less onion, but he doesn’t believe me. Here’s hoping we get it right!

There’s no need to reply; her mom has stopped asking questions in some attempt to stop pressuring communication.

But maybe she wants to respond.

Maybe she should.

She doesn’t think about it as she types the reply. She feels it, like a surging wave and she gets her feet beneath her and strikes the balance she wants to ride it home.

Paprika, she replies. Tell dad to add paprika.

Her mother’s reply isn’t long in coming. That’s right! Thanks for the reminder! Love you, baby!

She grins as she puts her phone away.

She’s remembering a lot of things, it seems.

-o-

Some things take work to remember.

Other things are impossible to forget.

That feeling – that overwhelming, encompassing dread – is still ever present in the back of her mind. It lurks most of the time. She can usually put it aside, act like it’s not there. Some days go back without thinking about it at all.

But it’s there.

The sense of vulnerability. The reality that happily ever afters are never a guarantee. One word, one blink – and she’s back to that doctor’s office when she’s 18 and JJ is being told he has a 50/50 chance of survival.

All of the good news doesn’t change the way that bad news felt.

The way it still feels.

Today, on the whole, is not one of the good days. Today, is one of the days where she can’t forget it. Because she’s back in that hospital, back in that waiting room. She’s back in that doctor’s office, and JJ’s back in the lab getting those same tests.

It’s a routine checkup, Dr. O’Brien always tells them with a bright, chipper smile. They’re just following up, making sure. He’s quick to remind them, in the months and years that are passing since JJ’s remission, that the odds go up with every checkup. JJ’s chances of staying healthy are always improving.

But that’s the thing with odds, and why she hates playing them. No matter how good the odds are, there’s still a chance you’ll lose.

JJ’s got a steadily increasing chance of survival.

That doesn’t change the fact that the chance he might not make it – the chance the cancer might come back – still exists.

“I’m fine,” he tells her, not for the first time as they wait to see the doctor to go over the results of a day of testing. “Like, I’ve felt fine. Energy, no bruising. I’m fine.”

She nods, trying to believe him when he says it.

“Kie,” he says, and he looks at her intently. “Seriously. I’m fine.”

She swallows and tries to smile. For him, she wants to. He needs her to be strong. He needs her.

But shit, she needs him, too.

“Aw, Kie–” he says, as he sees her waver. He pulls her into a hug before she can say anything, and she lets out a half muffled sob in his shoulder. “I’m fine.”

All she can do is nod.

He strokes her hair. “I know I’ve said it a lot, but this time I mean it,” he says. And he’s so reassuring, he’s so easy to believe. It’s so easy to let herself drift into him and trust the words he’s saying. “I’m fine.”

Sometimes fine is bullshit.

Sometimes, though, it’s everything you need to stay afloat.

-o-

Kiara doesn’t like being weak, but she really can’t help herself. Being back here, being like this – the helplessness threatens to consume her. It’s all she can do to keep herself from crying, and she lets JJ do the heavy lifting. He takes her by the hand when the nurse calls them back to talk to Dr. O’Brien and go over his results.

She has no idea how he’s as steady as he is, except maybe she does. They have a give and take, she and JJ. They have the good sense to complement each other. When one of them is falling to pieces, the other one knows to keep it together. Only one of them can let go at a time, it seems. She doesn’t want to consider a scenario when they both lose their shit.

JJ squeezes her hand as they sit down in the chairs – the same damn chairs – and he smiles at her.

“Well,” Dr. O’Brien says, sitting down across from them. “I am sure you want the bottom line.”

“If possible, yes, please,” JJ says. “Because this has been a long-ass day of tests.”

“It has,” Dr. O’Brien agrees. “And all the tests show the exact same thing. JJ, you’re doing great. There’s no sign of the cancer. You’re still in complete remission.”

It’s a simple pronouncement, and for a second, Kiara feels like she’s dreaming. Her head feels oddly disconnected from her body as her mind numbly tries to parse it out.

JJ’s healthy.

JJ doesn’t have cancer.

JJ’s remission.

“For real?” JJ asks, and he’s sitting forward now. His fingers have gone lax around hers as he buoys himself up. “Like – for real?”

“For real,” Dr. O’Brien says, grinning now. “JJ, I’ll go over all the results with you in some depth here just to be thorough, but your tests are remarkable. It’s almost like you never had cancer at all. The bone marrow transplant has been a complete success. I’m not sure I’ve seen a turnaround this dramatic in all my cases ever.”

JJ’s breathing catches, and his eyes are wet when he looks at Kiara. “See?” he says. “I told you. I told you I was fine.”

He’s being a smug bastard, and shit. Kiara loves him for it.

Mostly, she just loves him.

“You did,” she says. He laughs, and she feels herself start to smile. “You did.”

He laughs again, and this time he drops her hand, moving forward to cup her face and kiss her. Deep and good like Dr. O’Brien isn’t there at all.

And screw propriety. Screw the right thing. Kiara kisses him back.

Because JJ’s two years cancer-free.

-o-

Dr. O’Brien goes over the tests, but Kiara’s barely listening. JJ follows along a little, but it’s clear that it doesn’t matter. The tests say that JJ is healthy, and that’s all. They don’t care about antibodies or white blood cells or cancer markers. They don’t care about lymph nodes or anything else.

Even the bit about the odds – about the ongoing risk of recurrence – can’t be on her mind right now. She knows the risk is still there, but the news is too good.

Happy endings aren’t a guarantee, and no one knows that better than them.

But when you get one?

You just have to take it.

-o-

JJ makes it outside before he calls John B, but they’re still in the hospital parking lot as he relays the good news. She can hear John B whooping over the phone. In the background, she hears Sarah, too.

“You’re coming over tonight!” John B all but yells while JJ pulls her close for another hug. “We’re going to party!”

JJ kisses her again. He keeps kissing her, like he can’t think of anything else to do.

The doctor is giving him a whole damn future.

And all JJ wants is this, right here, with his friends.

With her.

“Hell, yeah!” JJ says, and he whoops so loud that people across the lot are looking at them. “We’re going to party!”

-o-

Kiara has no idea if John B has been planning this or if he just throws it together – she cedes both options as equally likely – but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if there’s food or drink; it doesn’t matter if there are fun and games. No one gives a shit about the weed or a hot tub or anything.

As long as JJ is there.

And there is no cancer in his blood.

Then, it’s the best night ever.

JJ gets drunk and loses every game he plays. Pope ends up ranting on the porch about the statistics regarding bone marrow transplants. Sarah falls asleep early, and Cleo decides it’s the perfect time to practice her accuracy in knife throwing even though she’s high and drunk and unable to hit the broad side of the Chateau. John B gets so smashed he’s weepy, and he spends most of the night falling all over JJ, telling him how much he loves him.

Kiara watches, mostly. She can’t help it, really. It’s almost like she can’t remember how to move. She watches the way they’re all so alive, so vibrant, so real. This little family they’ve made. They might make it after all.

No, Kiara tells herself. They will make it after all.

-o-

The good news is galvanizing for all of them. Everyone approaches life with a renewed vigor, no one more so than JJ. He takes to therapy with an almost vicious clarity, and she can’t get him to stop talking about his mental health.

So much so that she has no choice but to get better, too.

He shares his triggers and helps her find her own. He talks about his coping mechanisms, and she discovers a few of her own. Neither one of them have panic attacks for one month – two.

By three months, JJ’s working full-time and so is Kiara. At home, he’s moving at breakneck speed finishing up the last of the projects. He starts cleaning up the debris; he starts putting the tools away.

“What will you do when you’re done?” she marvels.

He winks at her. “You’ll see.”

-o-

And she does.

All the finishing touches are in place, and all the mess is picked up. She comes home from a night out with the girls and finds it all in impeccable order, perfect and tidy and set up just so.

JJ’s got candles lit, all over the living room. There is a bouquet of lilies and a bottle of champagne with two glasses waiting.

“What the hell?” she asks, putting her purse down as she comes in. “What is–?”

“I finished,” he says, and he’s standing anxiously to greet her. He’s wearing the jeans she likes, the ones from the wedding. His shirt is trim and tucked in. He’s got a tie on. He hesitates and nods, almost to himself. “I wanted to surprise you.”

She looks from him to the room, taking in the details. “I mean, it’s beautiful, Jayj–”

He steps out of the way while she looks around, and she moves to the walls, running her hands long the drywall and looking at the crown molding.

“You didn’t cut any corners, did you?”

When she turns back around, he’s at the other side of the room. The record scratches and then starts playing. It’s the first record; Bob Marley.

The familiar song makes her smile. “What is this?” she asks, grinning.

He moves to the table and picks up the champagne, pouring her a glass and handing it over. “I didn’t cut corners,” he says, and he’s unusually earnest about it.

She takes the champagne and takes a sip. It’s the expensive stuff; the stuff her mother used to buy for parties and special occasions.

Kiara looks at JJ, trying to figure out what she’s missing. Because she’s missing something here. “What are you doing?” she asks. “I mean–”

He takes a shaky breath, though, taking the drink back and putting it down. His blue eyes are terrified as he stands back up, taking her hands as he looks at her.

“Jayj,” she says, stomach starting to twist while her heart starts to pound. “Is everything okay?”

He swallows and nods. “Everything’s more than okay,” he says, and he takes a long, nervous breath, letting it out through his nose. “Because you saved my life, Kie. You’re the reason I’m still here. It’s you.”

She draws her brows together, a little confused by his emotion. “You saved mine first,” she reminds him.

He quickly shakes his head. “Not like you saved me. And it’s not just the cancer. It’s not just how you carried me through the treatment or made sure I got the bone marrow,” he says. “You taught me how to trust other people. You taught me how to let myself be loved.”

Her voice doesn’t work anymore, and her body feels like it’s floating.

JJ nods, steady and sure. “You taught me how to love,” he says, softer now. “And shit, Kie. I love you. I love you more than I thought I could love anything in this life.”

His fingers tighten around hers, but she doesn’t trust herself to speak.

He wets his lips. “I will spend the rest of my life putting you first like you put me first,” he says – he vows. And then he drops one hand, and reaches it into his pocket.

Her breath catches. She knows what this is – but she can’t compute. She can’t–

He pulls out the box and drops to one knee. He looks up at her like she’s his sun, the thing that anchors his universe, like he orbits around her day after day.

Like it’s all he wants.

Like it’s all he’s ever wanted.

And he opens the box. The ring inside is tasteful with a solitary diamond. The gold band is carved and embellished, the whole thing glinting in the candlelight.

“Kiara,” he says, like he’s practiced this, like he’s sure. Like he’s never been more sure of anything in his entire life. “Will you marry me?”

It’s a surreal thing. Her entire reality shifts, like she’s being pulled outside herself. She’s never dreamed of this, has she? She doesn’t dream of frilly white dresses or princes in shining armor. She doesn’t want the cliche; she’s no one’s little wife.

But she settles on something else, something real, something true.

She does want this. She wants JJ, today and for all the days that follow. She wants to be his, just as much as she wants him to be hers. They choose each other; they save each other.

So, she gets down on her knees in front of him, taking his hands in her own. She feels his fingers, the warmth of his skin, and the cool metal of the ring between them as she looks at him. Deep and full, like she can see everything he has been and everything he is.

Like she can see everything he will be.

And she hopes he can see everything they will be together.

“You only got it half-right,” she says softly. “We’ll spend our lives putting each other first. No matter what.”

His breath catches, but his lips twitch up into a smile. He nods once, and then he nods again as the idea coalesces and solidifies into something sure, something real, something perfect. When he blinks, there are tears in his eyes. “I’m in if you’re in.”

“I’m in,” she says without hesitation, and she undoes her grasp, taking the ring from him and clutching it to her chest. “So, yes. Yes, JJ. I will absolutely marry you.”

-o-

Kiara doesn’t put the ring on right away; she kisses JJ first. She kisses him as hard as she can and finds she can’t stop. She’s crying, he’s crying, and the whole thing is a beautiful mess right there on the living room floor.

She pulls him into her and gives as much as she takes, and when she’s done, they hold each other like that’s all they need in the world.

Just the two of them.

Two souls bobbing in the ocean.

Meant to be together.

And then, yeah. Then, Kiara puts on the ring.

-o-

Kiara has never been big on tradition, and JJ says he’s fine with whatever. He’ll marry her at the courthouse, take her to Vegas – she can name it, he’ll do it.

But there’s something different about her now, too.

She wants the wedding. She wants the white dress and flowers in her hair. She wants JJ in a tux and all their friends and family there. She wants it; their happily ever after. She wants it to be the event of the season, the year, the history of the OBX.

She wants it for herself. She wants it for JJ.

She wants it for them.

Because both of them nearly lost their lives.

And now they’re starting a new one.

Together.

-o-

The truth is, this isn’t the wedding any of them would have planned three years ago. But then, they’re not the same kids they were three years ago. They’re not kids at all. They’re adults. They’re living their real lives.

Needless to say, the rest of the Pogues get on board quickly.

Like, quickly.

Having already gotten married, Sarah is full of ideas, and she basically becomes Kiara’s wedding planner without asking. She asks her and Cleo to share maid of honor duties, but Cleo seems only too happy to let Sarah take the lead on the planning.

Cleo offers cutting commentary and practical advice while Sarah gushes about fabric swatches and floral arrangements. Kiara thinks they balance each other out, and she’s also pretty sure they’re going to drive her crazy.

“There’s just so much to do!” Sarah says, after buying every single bridal magazine in the store.

Cleo flips through one with minimal interest. “Seems like much ado about one day,” she says coolly. “When you should be focused on the lifetime.”

Sarah glares at her. “Just wait until Pope proposes,” she says.

Cleo smirks. “What makes you think he hasn’t?”

Sarah’s jaw drops. “But–”

Cleo grins wickedly. “I told him what I’ll tell you: I don’t need a piece of paper to make any of it to be real,” she says. Then, she shrugs. “And when we do, I think elopement sounds nice.”

“No family?” Kiara asks with just a hint of hesitation.

“You have to invite us!” Sarah says at almost the exact same time.

Cleo rolls her eyes. “Fine,” she says, exasperated and loving it. “Elopement with an audience. A small audience.”

Sarah claps her hands excitedly, and Kiara shakes her head with a smile. “I hope we didn’t steal your thunder, JJ and I,” she says. “When he proposed, I just – didn’t think about anything else.”

Cleo looks at her with mild alarm. “Girl! No apologies! Steal my thunder! Steal all the thunder!” she says. “For you and JJ? Deserve the whole damn world, as far as I’m concerned.”

Sarah nods seriously in total agreement. “Everything you went through. This is your time. You’ve earned it.”

Kiara doesn’t actually disagree. She doesn’t relish being selfish, except – maybe she does. Maybe she’s grateful that fate is letting her be selfish again.

It’s a luxury, after all. It’s a privilege. One that no one realizes they have until they don’t.

She looks at them, her girlfriends. Sometimes, she thinks she takes them for granted.

She knows she does.

“I’m just – really thankful,” she says. “That you guys are here for me. That you’ve been there for me. I mean the last few years–”

Sarah smiles, her eyes just slightly full. “I gave up my family to be a Pogue, and I haven’t regretted it once,” she says. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

Cleo nods in agreement. “I didn’t have a family either, until you lot,” she says. She bumps her shoulder into Sarah’s. “Of all the boats to find you in the Atlantic, I’m glad you found mine.”

Kiara is smiling so wide it hurts, and her chest is tight. She’s more prone to crying than she used to be; she’s more prone to a lot of things these days. “When they told me JJ was dying – I thought I’d never get through it. I thought I was dying, too,” she admits. “But it’s taught me how to live. JJ, all of you. It’s taught me how to live.”

Sarah can’t take it anymore, and wraps her in a hug. Cleo groans but follows suit. “It’s taught all of us,” Sarah says into her hair. “We’ve all learned how to live.”

Chapter Text

-o-

CHAPTER SEVEN

-o-

So, Kiara is getting married.

Like married married.

For real.

JJ wants to be more involved than the others expect, but it doesn’t surprise her. He’s always been invested in details that matter to him, and it doesn’t take much to figure out getting married matters to him quite a bit. In fact, as he offers opinions on place settings and wedding venues, she realizes that he wants the big wedding, too. Maybe even more than she does.

He’s always had a traditional streak in him, though he downplays it well. He wants the wife and the family and the white picket fence – the picture-perfect life he never got as a kid.

He’d never force it on her. She knows he wouldn’t even ask for fear of guilting her into something or making her think he was too backward. But she knows him; she knows his heart.

He wants it all.

So they book the church. They rent out the club. They book the glitziest caterer and order a three-tier wedding cake. Their colors are blue and green, the colors of the ocean, and Kiara picks a bouquet arranged with lilies and natural grasses.

When the planning gets to be too much for her, JJ fills in effortlessly. He helps her make decisions, big and small, and he takes care of some of the shit on his own. And, best of all, he knows when she needs to stop, when she needs to think about anything but the wedding, and he’s quick to tell jokes or take her out for a walk or a quick beer.

“I can’t put it off,” she reminds him warily.

“You can do whatever the hell you want,” JJ returns. “It’s our wedding after all.”

“But if it’s not done–”

“Then it’s not done,” JJ says with a shrug. “The guests will be okay without party favors, and not a single guy will complain if there are no boutonnieres.

She arches her eyebrows. “What do you know about party favors and boutonnieres?”

“Sarah has left, like, fifty million wedding magazines around the house,” he says solemnly. “I may have accidentally read one or two.”

Or all of them, she suspects.

“JJ–”

“Kiara,” he says, not letting her finish. “It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be more than fine. It’s going to be magnificent.”

She sighs, letting her doubt show – just for a moment, just for him. “But how do you know?”

“Because you’re the bride,” he reminds her with total confidence. “What the hell else does this wedding need?”

And okay, Kiara concedes, smiling shyly.

That’s a pretty damn good answer.

-o-

Even so, sometimes it gets the better of her. Because no matter what JJ says, there is still a lot to do, and he can’t always be there. He does have a job, after all, and when he’s at work, Sarah seems to be intent on being wedding planner of the year.

That’s either a compliment or an insult.

It varies by the day.

It’s not that Sarah is pushy or demanding – not really.

It’s just that Sarah has a long to-do list and no sense of chill. The wedding is still over six months away, but Sarah is acting like it’s three weeks. Kiara tries to remind her that this isn’t her whirlwind wedding, but that only seems to feed Sarah’s anxiety.

“Which means we have to get the details right,” she says. “All this lead time? Do you know how many wedding contractors are unreliable?”

Kiara makes a face. “I was thinking none of them, since we spent weeks vetting them.”

Her own vetting. JJ’s vetting.

And then Sarah’s extra vetting after the fact and ongoing.

“I mean, you did literally stalk a few of them,” Kiara reminds her.

Sarah’s mouth drops open, as if she’s being offended. “I merely went to see a few of them in person.”

“Yeah, at live events,” Kiara says. “You got kicked out of three weddings last month.”

“And discovered that your caterer can’t make mushrooms and that your DJ has no selection of 90s hits at all,” she says. “So you can thank me, please.”

“I know, but none of that matters to me–” Kiara starts to say.

But Sarah shakes her head. “Nope. No way,” she says. “You put yourself last constantly for the last few years. When JJ was sick, you wouldn’t even talk about you. Not once. You’re going to be front and center this time. This is all about you, and I will refuse to cut corners, even a little bit. This is your moment, Kiara. You will shine.”

It’s – well. It’s something, isn’t it? Sarah’s sincerity makes it something else, and it puts things in perspective. That Sarah’s intentions are good. That she’s not just batshit crazy.

She’s a good friend.

She’s like the sister Kiara’s never had and didn’t think she wanted.

But maybe she needs.

Even so, Kiara tips her head to the side sardonically. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

Sarah groans. “You’re so impossible.”

“I’m just genuinely wondering,” Kiara says.

“Shut up,” Sarah says. “Or I’ll put you in velvet.”

Kiara opens her mouth to protest, but Sarah holds up a finger with a glare.

“And yes, that’s a threat,” she says shortly. “So shut the hell up and help me pick out the napkins.”

-o-

Kiara does pick out napkins. For the record, they’re all reusable and completely environmentally friendly. She pays extra to make sure all of the linens have zero environmental impact, which Sarah says isn’t the most important part, but whatever.

Yes, they’re a pretty shade of teal. Okay.

When Kiara is about to go insane, Cleo is the one who reminds her to do this on her terms. Sarah is the de facto leader in wedding planning, but they make it a three-way effort. Kiara has named them both maids of honor, and whoever suggests Cleo isn’t pulling her weight has no idea.

Because Cleo? Will take Kiara aside and tell her to breathe.

Sarah’s ranting about photography lighting and Cleo reminds her that this is still her wedding.

“Sarah means well, but the girl is crazy,” Cleo says. “Makes me glad she planned hers in three weeks. Or I might have murdered her before she walked down that aisle.”

It makes her laugh. A little. And then a lot.

Which feels like a total relief.

Cleo’s eyes are warm as she studies Kiara. “You’re wound so tight,” she says. “And I know that has nothing to do with marrying JJ – and a lot to do with the wedding.”

Kiara sighs because she can’t really deny it. “I want the big wedding, I really do–”

“But you don’t care about all the details?” Cleo posits.

“Well – I care about some of them,” Kiara says. “But you’ve heard Sarah. There are too many.”

“Right,” Cleo says. “So, then next time she asks you about something you don’t care about, what should you do?”

Kiara makes a face. “Run away?”

“Tell her to make the decision herself,” Cleo says. She shrugs. “Delegate to us.”

“But Sarah–”

“Sarah will be fine,” Cleo says. “I will make sure of that.”

“But what if she makes the wrong choice?” Kiara asks.

“Because you cared about the shade of teal?” Cleo asks pointedly.

Kiara inclines her head. “Point taken.”

“This day is about you and JJ, just the two of you, on your terms,” she says. “You’re making a statement about your love and your life – not the napkin color.”

It’s a relief, really. That Cleo gets that much. It’s why you need a family – and not just a best friend. They’re better together, in the end. They need each other.

“Thanks, Cleo,” Kiara says. “I mean it.”

Cleo shrugs. “Girl, I got your back,” she says. “And Sarah does, too. She just sometimes forgets what that means.”

Kiara chuckles. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Cleo smirks. “And why would you ever have to find out?”

-o-

It works, overall. Kiara makes the decisions that matter, and when shit is just too much, she defers to Cleo and Sarah to let them duke it out. It’s perhaps not the most conventional way to plan a wedding, but they’ve never been a particularly conventional bunch.

This allows her to do the things that are fun and not stress about the things she doesn’t care about. Most of the time, anyway.

There are some things, she finds out, she can’t avoid.

Even if she wants to.

“We have to finalize the guest list,” Sarah says, chewing her lip as they share a beer and go over the final invitation choice in the living room of the Chateau. The boys are out doing shit – she doesn’t know – and Cleo’s got commitments with Pope’s dad, so it’s just the two of them.

Kiara shrugs, because she’s already said this much: “We picked the biggest venues we could find so we can invite everyone.”

Sarah smiles at her expectantly. “Sure, everyone. Which includes?”

“Well, us,” she says, nodding around the Chateau.

“Sure, that’s four people outside of you and JJ,” Sarah reminds her.

Kiara rolls her eyes. “So – the Heywards. A lot of the small business owners in the area, since they’ve worked with JJ and the charter.”

Sarah is jotting things down. “I mean, that’s still pretty vague–”

“Just anyone in the tourist district,” she says. She nods with a little grin. “Even the Kooks. Let those assholes buy us wedding presents.”

Sarah grins back. “Okay, so business owners,” she says. “What about some of your other friends? I know you have some conservationists.”

“Sure,” Kiara says. “Lilly and Mei-Mei are good. So is Brant.”

Sarah is still writing. “And I was thinking about the hospital staff–”

“Right,” Kiara says. “The nurses. I bet even Dr. O’Brien would come.”

“And the barista and the parking attendant,” Sarah says. “I’ll have to go down and get their contact information.”

“You don’t mind?” Kiara asks.

Sarah shrugs, indifferent. “It is my duty as your maid of honor.”

“One of my maids of honor,” Kiara reminds her.

Sarah scoffs. “I’ve done way more than Cleo, but fine. Maids of honor,” she says with a little sense of indignance. She hesitates now, tapping her pen on the paper. “What about family?”

Kiara blinks for a second, momentarily dumbfounded. “Well, Ricky, obviously. All of JJ’s local family should be on the list,” she says. “JJ’s not close to most of them, but they’re not on bad terms. He’d want them there, I think.”

Sarah continues to nod, scrawling a few more names. “And your side?”

“Well, my grandparents moved to Florida, and I’ve got a cousin on the mainland,” she says. “I can get you their names and addresses–”

Sarah isn’t writing anymore, but she’s looking at Kiara. “Kie. What about your parents?”

The question is so obvious that it’s stupid. It’s stupider still that Kiara is completely taken off guard by it.

What about her parents?

She’s essentially cut them out after JJ’s near-death experience, and she’s seen no reason to let them back in. She’s let their overtures go unanswered – overtures that continue to come consistently, even years after the fact.

She hasn’t told them JJ’s better.

She hasn’t told them she’s getting better.

She hasn’t told them anything.

“Kie?” Sarah asks, and it’s only then that Kiara realizes how much time has passed.

Talking to Sarah right now.

And since she connected to her parents – period. Fleeting texts; almost friendly small talk.

Sometimes it seems like everything; sometimes it feels like nothing.

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. She shrugs her shoulders because what else can she do. “I don’t know.”

Sarah nods, and for once, she doesn’t push it. Instead, her smile is soft. “Maybe think about it,” she suggests, putting the paper aside and putting the pen down. “Talk to JJ. Then you can figure out what you feel.”

-o-

The problem is, Kiara doesn’t want to figure it out.

Denial has been working super well for her for so long. Not dealing with the issue? Has been amazing.

If she thinks about her parents, she has to deal with her parents.

If she deals with her parents, she has to deal with herself.

In short, it’s a mess. And Kiara’s not sure she’s ready.

But the question won’t go away, and as the wedding date approaches, she knows she can’t run from it forever. Well, she can. But part of her knows she shouldn’t this time.

It’s JJ who manages to make the reconciliations happen. Kiara is stubborn about it, holding onto her resentments. They’re justified resentments, she insists, and she reminds JJ that they were terrible to him, too.

“It was a long time ago, Kie,” he says. “Another life.”

Another life. One before cancer nearly took everything from them. Sometimes, it hardly seems real, that something so horrible has given way to everything they’ve ever wanted.

But she shakes her head. “I’m not sure I’m ready to trust them.”

“It’s your choice, and I will stand by you, 100% without question,” he says. “If you say, screw them. We’ll screw them. No bullshit for us, if that’s what you want.”

She holds her chin steady, trying not to waver.

“But life’s short, Kie,” he says. “Our future isn’t promised. So, maybe you want to make nice.”

“But they hurt me,” she says, frowning now. The emotion is starting to get to her. “They hurt you.”

“Your mom sent me a birthday card with 100 dollars inside,” he says. “That’s, like, more than my dad ever spent on me for, like, every birthday. Ever.”

She huffs. “They can’t buy their way back in.”

“Your dad signed it, too,” JJ says, matter of fact. “Mike. No Mr. Carrera. No sir. Mike.”

She’s still stubborn, though. “So?”

“So, I was pretty sure he was going to keep me in Mr. Carrera territory the rest of my existence,” JJ says. “They’re trying. I mean, if my folks were here trying, I think I’d give them the chance.”

It would be emotional manipulation, but she knows JJ. She knows when he’s playing to win, and she knows when he means it. He means it more than not, these days. He means everything now that he really knows what it means to fight for his future.

That’s the funny thing about it, right? JJ spent so many years terrified that he didn’t have a future, but once the cancer threatened to take it from him, it all came into focus. He’s not as reckless anymore; he’s not as fatalistic. He lives each day for what it is, that’s true. But it’s because he knows today is a gift.

Not because he thinks it might be the last one he ever has.

It’s made him steadier. It’s made him wiser. It’s made him stronger.

It’s made him the best version of himself.

And she hates the cancer for what it took from him – from them – but sometimes she has to acknowledge what it gave them. Especially since JJ’s not bitter. He’s not bitter about the cancer. He’s not bitter about the shitty hand life dealt him. He’s not bitter about the father who abused him or the mother who left him. He’s not even bitter about the town who forgot he was alive until he was ready to die.

It makes her think of Luke, though, with some guilt. JJ still doesn’t know, after all. He doesn’t know that Luke saved his life, and that he did it willingly and gratefully. He doesn’t know that his dad is better now. He doesn’t know that he loves JJ.

See, JJ changed a lot of lives. When JJ was given a death sentence, they all figured out how to live. And no one changed more than Luke Maybank.

“Do you think about him?” she asks suddenly. “Your dad?”

He looks taken aback by the question. “He’s in the Yucatan.”

It sounds funny to hear him say it. He’s not 17, and he’s not stupid, but JJ still believes it. “You could find him,” she says.

JJ gets a little quiet, and he ducks his head for a moment. He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “If he wants to come back, he knows where to find me,” he says. He looks up and smiles at Kiara. “Your parents are taking the first step. My old man? I’m not sure he’ll ever be ready.”

She could tell him, she thinks. She probably should.

Except she made a promise to Luke.

She owes Luke for JJ’s life.

She owes him the entire future she’s plotting now. Every dimpled smile, every flash of bright blue eyes, every touch of his calloused hand. She owes him for the happy ending. She owes him everything.

So she bites it back and forces herself to smile. “You really think I should give it a go with my parents?”

He shrugs, easy as he can. “If they go full Kook on you, I’ll back you up and we’ll split,” he says. “I could steal a money clip on the way out.”

“JJ,” she groans, rolling her eyes and shoving him playfully.

“No?” he quips back. “Your mom’s purse? I can still steal a lot of shit, Kie. I may be a little rusty, but I think I could do it.”

“I swear to God, JJ,” she warns, but she’s smiling and there’s humor in her voice. She can’t hide the fact she’s happy. She doesn’t even want to.

“I mean now I kind of want to, really,” he continues. Impossible and unrepentant. “For old times sake.”

She kisses him finally.

For old times sake.

Then, she kisses him again.

For the future, she decides.

-o-

JJ makes it seem so easy, but Kiara finds it harder than she should. All she’s doing is typing a simple text message, and it seems to take her hours.

It actually takes her about two minutes, which is still kind of long, consider her text says Just reaching out to see if you wanted to have coffee someday next week.

That gets the point across, and it’s devoid of excessive emotion, but when she plays it back in her head, it just sounds dumb as shit. She wishes there were a way to unsend it, but there’s not, so she adds a quick, less parsed follow up.

Just let me know, no big deal.

She’s still agonizing over it, wondering if there’s an easy way to change her phone number and her entire identity while she’s at it. She’s contemplating the virtues of moving to Canada when her mother replies.

Of course! Name the time and place, and we’ll be there!

That’s – good?

Kiara has to think it’s good.

Even if it doesn’t feel good. It’s what she wanted, anyway. Her first step. A tentative olive branch. A second chance.

Or not. She could call the whole damn thing off. JJ wouldn’t be mad; no one would blame her.

But she’d spend the rest of her life wondering what if.

What if her parents can change?

What if her parents want to do this on her terms?

What if her parents really do love her?

What if they always did?

So, with a huff of frustration, she types out the reply. Great, the coffeehouse on Miarmar Road, 9 AM on Tuesday.

She can’t help it if she holds her breath while her mother replies.

Sounds good! I’ll see you then!!

Kiara lets the breath out, and the fresh nerves pique up and down her body.

And then, as a follow up: I’m so excited!

-o-

All the bullshit Kiara has faced, and this isn’t the most nervous she’s been. She stayed by JJ’s side during cancer, though, so that’s kind of a low bar.

Besides, she’s still pretty damn nervous. She thinks about calling it off a half dozen times, but JJ tells her it won’t get easier. If she’s ever going to do this, she may as well do it now. She worries they won’t accept her decision, but JJ rolls his eyes.

“They know better than that,” he says. “If they can't accept the wedding, why would they say yes?”

She bites her lip, not sure what to say.

“You’re not 17 anymore,” he reasons. “They can’t legally kidnap you and send you away. They want you, Kie. They know it has to be on your terms.”

“How can you be sure?”

He smirks. “I know what shitty parents look like,” he says, and her gut twinges at the thought of Luke. Ricky told him a while ago about his mom, and JJ had taken that in stride, as if one more abandonment couldn’t surprise him. But a reconciliation? JJ can’t even fathom. “And your parents are trying.”

“But what if they pull shit?” she worries. “What if I change my mind?”

“Then, you walk away, no questions asked,” he says, and he leans forward to kiss her. “You’re calling the shots, Kie. Don’t ever doubt that.”

-o-

Kiara doubts everything, but JJ is so sure that she doesn’t say anything. JJ offers to drive her — hell, he offers to come along and stay for the entire awkward fallout — but she declines.

If she’s going to do this, she’s going to do this. Her.

Outside the cafe, she just about loses her nerve. She’s sweating by the time she gets out of her car, and her heart is pounding as she opens the door to go inside. She can hardly breathe as she looks around, and she’s light headed when she sees her parents, right there at a nearby table. Waiting for her.

She just about chickens out, but her mother sees her and her whole face lights up like Kiara has made her day, her week.

Shit, her year.

Her dad looks less excited and more anxious, but his eyes are trained on her too.

“Kiara!” her mom says. “We’re so glad you made it!”

It’s a thing now, all public and whatever, and Kiara has no choice but to step closer and sit down. Her cheeks are flushed as she tucks her hair behind her ears. “Yeah,” she says, like they’re pretending this isn’t her idea. She tries to smile but it feels more like a grimace.

Across from her, her dad also grimaces, but her mother’s smile only widens like everything is perfect. Her mother is either the most amazing person in the world or the most disingenuous. At this point, Kiara has no idea what she thinks. She just needs to get through this one way or another.

“So,” her mom says, spreading her hands on the table. “We already ordered. I thought about ordering you a mocha, but then I couldn’t remember if it was still your favorite. You used to get it with one of those natural milk substitutes, remember? And I guess you’re old enough that you don’t drink decaf anymore.”

It’s striking that she remembers.

Kiara does still like mochas.

And she still gets the natural milk alternatives.

And shit, she does still get decaf when she can.

“I do,” she says, and it sounds awkward when she says it. “I mean, that is still an order I get. A lot.”

Her mother looks surprised but pleasantly so. “Oh,” she says. She nods over her shoulder. “I can go order–”

“I got it,” her dad says, scooting his chair back. It might be presumptuous, but honestly, Kiara thinks he’s just relieved And if she’s honest, she’s a bit jealous he thought to get up first. He smiles at Kiara and then at his wife. “I know your favorite.”

Her mother smiles up at him sweetly. “Thanks, babe.”

He nods, to her – then, belatedly, at Kiara before he makes his way up to the counter.

Any relief at his departure is quickly replaced by trepidation as she realizes she has to make small talk with her mother alone.

“So,” her mom says when Kiara comes up with nothing. “How are you? Tell me about things!”

It’s a vague sort of question, but to be fair, it’s not like her mom could possibly know anything more specific. This has to start somewhere, and since she’s here, Kiara figures she should probably try a little. “I’m good,” she says awkwardly. “Things are good.”

Her mother is clearly hoping for more, but she nods eagerly anyway. “Good. Good,” she says, nodding with some enthusiasm. “We’re still busy with The Wreck – same old, same old.”

Kiara nods back but can’t make her mouth work. Her brain goes blank and it’s like she’s entirely forgotten how to make small talk.

So her mother presses on anyway. “I’ve heard from customers that the charter business is thriving,” she says. “By far the most popular one on the island. People come in raving about it every time.”

“Yeah,” Kiara says. “It’s really been steady. We expanded to two boats already.”

“I heard!” her mother says. “Cleo is the other captain now, right? That’s so great, all of it.”

It seems sincere. The thing is, Kiara knows her mother. Her mother can be obtuse sometimes, but she does generally mean what she says. Even when she’s oblivious to her own privilege and biased, her intentions are good. She’s teachable; she learns.

And what the hell?

Kiara forgave Luke Maybank even after he abused JJ all his life.

Surely she can give her mother a second chance, too.

“I’m getting married, Mom,” she blurts, and it’s more abrupt than she intends, but there it is.

Her mother stops at that one. She blinks once and twice. It’s pretty clear Kiara has caught her off guard with that one. “What?”

She’s started it now. Kiara has to see it through. Her father is up at the counter ordering, so now is as good a time as any. “JJ proposed,” she says, and she holds up her hand, showing her mother the ring. “And I said yes. We’re getting married.”

That’s the short of it, the bottom line. She doesn’t tell her about the proposal and the wedding plans. She doesn’t go into all the details and the ups and downs.

But there it is. The major life change.

And now it’s up to her mom to decide what she wants to do with it.

Though her mother is clearly reeling, she recovers with remarkable dexterity. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” she says, and her expression builds up a smile as she laughs with breathless surprise. “Honey, I’m so happy for you. You and JJ are going to be so happy together.”

That’s exactly the right thing to say.

Her mother is affirming the event, affirming her choice, and affirming her. Hell, she’s going out of her way to affirm JJ, too. It’s complete approval, unrestricted acceptance. It’s everything.

“Thanks,” Kiara says, and now when she smiles, it feels more natural. It feels like it used to, back when she was 13 and told her mother everything. When her mom had known everything, and Kiara had trusted her completely. It’s funny how it changed; it’s funny how she changed – and her mother seems very much the same.

The things you don’t know because you don’t see your parents as people, but mere extensions of you. That’s the good and the bad of it; for the better and for the worse. You don’t get the good without the bad. You don’t get a happy ending without the complication. You just don’t; Kiara knows that now.

“I wanted to know,” she starts and stops herself. Her heart flutters in her chest, and she has to look away even though she knows her mom is still watching her. It’s all she can do to swallow and take a breath before meeting her eyes again. “I wanted to know if you wanted to come to the wedding. You and dad. You could come to the wedding.”

It’s a shitty thing, in some ways. That she has to ask. That she’s not sure what the answer will be.

Kiara is suddenly keenly aware it’s shitty for her mom, too. That Kiara is asking her like this instead of showing her the ring right when it happened. All these months of planning, and her mom hasn’t been part of any of it.

The answer, when she sits there, is nothing short of obvious. “Of course,” her mom says. She catches herself on a laugh, and nods more vigorously. “Yes, thank you for thinking of us. We’d love to come. Do you have a date?”

“Spring,” Kiara says. “We want everything in full bloom. We’re getting married at the Presbyterian church.”

Her mother looks surprised.

Kiara shrugs. “JJ went there growing up,” she says. “I know it means something to him, and the venue is huge.”

“And quite pretty,” her mom observes. “I’ve seen the stained glass from the outside – and the steeple. I’ll bet it’s charming.”

It is. It’s absolutely charming. Kiara had been reluctant to do a church wedding in some ways – considering her own reservations about religion – but it did matter to JJ. And the moment she’d stepped inside, she’d fallen in love with it, too. The old wood floors; the velvet-lined pews. Worn and comfortable and familiar, just like JJ. It was the perfect place to take him as her own.

“Yeah, it is,” she says. She sees her father paying up at the front, and she presses on quickly. “Sarah has all these crazy ideas for decorating. But it’s going to be something.”

“I’ll bet!” she enthuses, and then, she hesitates. “Kiara, I know we’re not exactly on the best terms, and I don’t want to overstep at all. I want to respect your boundaries 100%.”

The way she says it is so resolute, that Kiara braces for whatever’s coming next. That’s how her teen years have been marked with her parents: one step forward, and five steps back.

But her mom takes a breath and nods. “But if you need help with anything – any part of the wedding – you just have to ask,” she says. “I’ll be happy to help.”

The offer is open, is the thing. It’s given freely and there are no stipulations. She can see it when she looks at her mom: this has no strings attached.

Her mother has been cut out from so much that all she wants is an in now.

Which works out. Because, as it turns out, Kiara just wants her mother back. It’s such a primal need that she’d pretended it wasn’t there. Ever since the emancipation, she’s acted like the legal paperwork had severed that bond.

It hadn’t. It had given her control, but the emotions are all still there. The good and the bad.

Hatred is the flip side of love, after all.

“I wouldn’t mind some help,” she says after a moment.

Her mom’s eyes positively light up. “That’s wonderful,” she says. “We have some money set aside–”

Kiara is quick to shake her head. “No, that’s not what I meant,” she says. “We don’t need money.”

“Right, of course you don’t,” her mother says, in a rush, as if correcting herself. “I know that, I do. But we’d like to help, you know? And if it’s not money, just anything. I’ve always wanted to be involved. For your big day. For the start of the rest of your life, baby. With the boy you love.”

Yeah, that’s definitely the right thing to say. The pressure in her chest – that anxiety she’s been harboring – all but melts away. It feels like three years of resentment are unfurling before her, and it feels good. It feels really, really good.

“Well, I was going to go wedding dress shopping next week,” Kiara says.

“Oh!” her mother says, and then she seems to hem herself in. “That sounds fun.”

“With Sarah and Cleo,” Kiara explains. “Sarah’s got appointments at the shops here on the OBX and the best ones on the mainland.”

“There are some lovely options,” her mother says. “And you’ll look gorgeous in anything, modern or traditional. Whatever you like.”

There’s a hedging there. Her mom wants to ask, but she knows she can’t.

But Kiara can. She wets her lips and nods. “You could come.”

Her mother freezes, as if she’s afraid to believe the offer. “Really?”

She inhales and lets it settle over her. All of it. The last five minutes. The last five years. Second chances have no guarantee attached to them. That’s why they’re a chance. You have to take it, even if the first chance failed.

“Really,” she says. “I mean, if you want.”

Her mother blinks hard, and it looks like her eyes are watering. But she’s still smiling. She’s really, really smiling – almost like she’s trying to hold it in check and failing. “I do want.”

At that moment, her dad comes back to the table, balancing the three drinks. He puts Kiara’s down in front of her, sliding one over to her mom as he sits down. “I think I got it all right,” he says. “But if I screwed it up, I hope you’ll take pity on me. Coffee shops are more of your mother’s thing.”

Honestly, Kiara doesn’t give a shit what’s in her cup. Neither does her mom. She turns to Mike beaming. “Kiara has news, Mike,” she says, eyes bright. “Good news. Great news!”

He looks from his wife to Kiara with a due amount of hesitance. “Oh?”

“Kiara and JJ are engaged!” she says, and the way she blurts it makes Kiara feel even more confident that she means it.

Her dad, however, looks like someone has socked him in the stomach. He blinks, clearly bewildered, and his mouth hangs open for a moment as he tries to process the sentence.

She can’t help it; the flush rises in her cheeks again. But she has nothing to be sorry for and she has nothing to be ashamed of. She bolsters herself with a fake smile, and holds up her ring finger for him.

He looks at the ring for a long, hard second.

“Oh,” he finally says. Then, almost with supreme effort, he smiles back. “That’s great.”

“It’s wonderful!” her mother says, grabbing her husband by the arm and cajoling him into the conversation again. “This spring. At the Presbyterian church.”

“And the reception will be at the club,” Kiara says. “I told mom, if you want to come, you’re more than welcome.”

Her father is still dumbfounded by this turn of events. No doubt, an announcement of marriage would have caught him off guard no matter who the guy was.

The fact that it’s JJ isn’t just a hard pill for him to swallow. It looks like a pill he may choke on entirely.

“And I said of course we’d be there!” her mother says, squeezing him by the arm. He looks at his wife, and Kiara doesn’t miss the look she gives him.

It’s not a suggestion.

It’s not even an order.

If anything, it’s a threat. One gifted with a smile.

Can Kiara trust that?

Trust is a funny thing, in the end. The choice you make. A second chance doesn’t have to be given without reservations – but it does have to be given.

“I’ll send you a hold the date card,” she says, mustering up a smile as she picks up her coffee. “But that’s enough about me. What about you two? How’s The Wreck?”

It’s totally natural, this small talk, but it’s also not bad. Is it weird to make chit chat with her parents at a coffee shop? Yes. Yes, it is. But she hasn’t talked to them in years, so really, she has to start somewhere, and the strange reality is that the things she used to take for granted have to be reestablished all over again.

She has no idea how The Wreck is. She doesn’t know what her parents are up to or what their social circle looks like these days. Have they done updates on the house? Have they thrown out all of Kiara’s things? Where did they go for the anniversary? Are they happy?

Questions she hasn’t thought about in years. Questions she used to know the answer to.

Questions, perhaps, she wants to know the answer to.

“It’s going well!” her mother says, and she looks at her husband for confirmation. “I mean, steady, right?”

Her father takes the cue and takes a long breath. “Steady,” he agrees, and he looks back at Kiara, letting something purposefully unfurl in his expression. “We’re still going through wait staff like crazy. But Trayvon got promoted; he’s our line cook now.”

“Is he still overseasoning the sausage?” Kiara asks.

It makes her father grin. “Can’t break him of it,” he says. “I like him anyway.”

Kiara finds that she’s grinning back. “Well, some things don’t change, I guess.”

“And some things do,” he says. He nods at Kiara’s mother. “Your mother’s been after me to add dessert back to the menu.”

“People like something sweet,” she says. Then, she shrugs. “And it’s an easy upsell.”

“You make a good cheesecake,” Kiara says.

“Ah,” he says, shrugging. “Not that good.”

“It’s my favorite,” Kiara protests, with just enough vigor that it makes her stop.

It makes him stop, too, as he looks at her. He considers, and then he nods. “I’ll have to add it back, then,” he says.

“Good,” Kiara says. She wets her lips and shrugs, too. “I’ll have to stop by and try it.”

“You should,” he says. Then, after a beat. “You could bring JJ.”

The exchange is tentative, and she feels her mother watching them, gauging the space between them.

“Yeah,” she agrees finally, and not because she has to. She knows she doesn’t; she really does. But maybe she wants to. “Yeah, I think maybe I will.”

-o-

The rest of coffee is equally strange, with awkward turns and familiar repartee. When it’s time to go, she’s genuinely a little disappointed, and she hesitates on the street before giving her mother a hug.

When she pulls away, she’s flush in the face and she feels like a little girl. “We’ll do this again soon,” she says.

Her mother is beaming. “Just name the time and place.”

Because it’s strange, spending time with her parents.

And maybe – just maybe – it’s good.

-o-

The doubts stalk her, though, and she waffles over the whole thing for the next two days. Yes, it was fun. But it was one coffee. Does one cup of coffee change all these years?

Does that really earn her mother a plan shopping for wedding dresses? Does it mean they both get to come to the wedding?

They’ve hurt her. There’s Kitty Hawk. There’s the money clip. There’s the emancipation and the Christmas confrontation before JJ got sick. These are hard moments to let go of. Sheila tells her not to pretend like the trauma didn’t happen. But she also tells her not to give it more weight than it deserves.

Which, whatever, Sheila. That sort of BS is why people make fun of therapists.

When it still vexes her, she brings it up with JJ. They’re taking a sail on one of his days off. She’s not sure why he wants to go out on the water when that’s literally his day job, but he says he’s scouting new locations. Really, she suspects, it just makes him happy.

Seeing him happy makes Kiara happy, so it’s a win-win.

Plus, it makes it easy to ask him the difficult questions.

“Do you think I should tell my mom when I’m shopping for wedding dresses?” she asks.

JJ has anchored them on one of the shoals, and he’s currently got his nets out seeing what kind of fish activity is in the area. His brow is furrowed as he watches for signs of movement. “What?”

Kiara is helping, which is mostly just standing next to him, also watching. “Should I tell my mom when we’re shopping for wedding dresses?”

JJ looks at her, like the question has caught him off guard. “I guess?”

He clearly is not grasping the depth of her uncertainty. “I just – don’t know for sure.”

“Then – no?” he tries, tilting his head to the side.

She rolls her eyes. “I just can’t figure out how I feel,” she explains. “I had a good time at coffee, and my mom really wants to come.”

He shrugs. “If it was fun, then why not?”

“Because what if it doesn’t go as well the second time?” she says. “What if it’s just an act and we fall back into all the old shit?”

“Like what are they going to do?” JJ asks, a little quizzical. “You’re an adult; they can’t kidnap you.”

“I know,” she says, but it’s a point she needs to remember. She has the cards here; this is her play. “But if it’s a manipulation–”

“But, like, why?” JJ says. “What would they gain from manipulating you? And manipulating you into what? Having a relationship? That just sounds like family.”

He says it so plaintively that he’s right: it does sound like normal family stuff.

She’s not sure why it’s so complicated in her head. “But that’s the problem,” she says, sinking down to rest on the edge of the boat. “I know my family. That’s why I can’t let myself trust them.”

JJ seems to forget the nets, too, as he sits down next to her with a frown. “Well, I mean, I get that. If my dad came back, I wouldn’t know what to do either. Like, how would I even start to trust him after everything?”

That’s not a point she wants to think about, because she knows where Luke Maybank is. And she knows what he’s done to save JJ’s life.

JJ has no idea what he’s talking about, and that’s on Kiara.

But JJ, completely oblivious, shrugs and continues. “So, you have to trust your gut on this one. You get to make the call. It’s up to you.”

“But my gut is completely in knots,” she says. “I don’t know what I think is best.”

He sighs a little, slipping an arm around her back. “You’re not giving yourself nearly enough credit,” he says. “You got me this far. So I think you can get yourself there, too.”

He says it simple, calm and sure like the waters. He’s always good at navigation, at making a steady course over choppy waves.

“So, for the record, that’s a yes?” she asks. “I should let her come?”

“For the record, I trust you,” he says, getting up and kissing her lightly. He grins. “You’ll make the right choice.”

“On my mom or the dress?” she asks.

“Both!” he says, reaching to reel the nets back in. “Definitely both!”

-o-

JJ has every confidence in her, even if Kiara isn’t sure about anything. But inviting her mom feels like the right thing to do, so she does. She doesn’t think about it too hard; she doesn’t worry. She just texts her mom the time and location to meet and hopes for the best.

And really, it’s not her mom she has to worry about.

It’s Sarah.

Sarah and the entire wedding industry.

She has a hard enough time dealing with the fact that the white dress is symbolic of so many shitty parts of western patriarchy. The reality that all the dresses are wastefully produced, far too gaudy, and designed for women with no body fat just makes it even worse.

After trying on several dresses, she’s pretty sure she’s made a mistake.

She’s posing in the most recent dress – some hideous beaded monstrosity with poofy sleeves and entirely too much tulle – when she finally broaches the idea of defeat. “Maybe it’s not too late to elope,” she mutters, turning around to look at herself in the extensive mirror display.

“You’ve got deposits down,” Cleo reminds her. “Nonrefundable.”

“I might take the hit,” Kiara mutters.

But Sarah is on her feet, fluttering about her. “This one isn’t that bad,” she says, fussing with the tulle skirt as if fluffing it more is going to help. “It’s got a princess vibe I like – it matches your venue – and the color is good.”

Kiara glares at her. “The color is white. Like every other patriarchal mess in this shop.”

Sarah, though, just glares back, her lips pursed. “There are plenty of ivory and off-white variations you’ve tried on.”

Each one, she recalls, more terrible than the last.

“It’s got exactly the right cut to the bodice,” Sarah continues.”

“It’s a very classic scoop neckline with an A-line bodice,” her mother chimes in gently.

Gently enough that Kiara doesn’t glare at her.

“You said you liked full skirts,” Sarah says.

“No, I said I didn’t like weird mermaid style dresses that were impossible to walk in,” she corrects. “I’m not sure how we went from that – to full Disney princess.”

Sarah frowns a bit as she considers.

Her mother shrugs from the background. ‘You have to focus on the positives,” she says. “So you like A-line bodices.”

Kiara feels suspicious of this conclusion, but she’s not sure why. “Yes.”

“And you like something with a fuller profile–”

“But not a ballgown,” Cleo says, catching on to the tactic here.

Kiara has to nod along, even if somewhat reluctant.

“And materials – what? Silk?” her mother asks.

Sarah’s eyes light up. “Natural fibers!”

“Good,” her mom says. “Now, just have the girls in the shop pull those and we’ll see what we come up with.”

-o-

The tactic works better than she expects, but the first shop still doesn’t yield what Kiara wants. She finds one or two tolerable dresses, but this is her wedding. She’s not looking for tolerable. They make it to another few shops on the mainland before taking a break for lunch. Normally, the idea of dining with her mother and two best friends would be daunting, but Kiara is so exhausted that it doesn’t matter.

And her mother is surprisingly chill.

Like, really.

“The beach vibes are amazing,” her mother coos as she scrolls through the photos of Sarah’s wedding on her phone. “And you really planned this in three weeks?”

Sarah looks thrilled to talk about it. “I had help,” she says, nudging Cleo next to her and grinning at Kiara. “Also motivation.”

“Well, it looked lovely,” her mother says, giving Sarah back her phone. “Those boys of yours all clean up nice.”

“We do what we can,” Cleo says with a smirk. But she arches her brows at Kiara. “But an impromptu backyard bash is easy. Kiara is killing me with the formal everything.”

“Irony, right?” Sarah says, eyes glinting mischievously. “She’s the one who went traditional.”

Her cheeks flush red. “Whatever.”

She’s still fumbling for a response when her mother chimes in. “I think it makes sense,” she says. “I mean, it’s not about subjugating yourself to tradition. It’s about using that tradition to affirm who you are and what you want. This isn’t giving in. This is taking ownership.”

Kiara stares for a second, wondering how her mom did that. How her mom nailed it – nailed her – just like that.

It’s like – her mom knows her.

After all this time.

Maybe all along.

It’s an impossible thing to consider. That the people who love you, hurt you. That the people who make you hurt the most are the ones who know you best.

“That makes sense,” Sarah says. But, she adds, “I guess.”

Cleo chuckles. “I still think we shouldn’t let her live it down.”

“Oh, no,” her mother jokes. “She definitely needs to be reminded of it the next time she’s judgmental and acts like she’s better than the rest of you.”

Sarah and Cleo grin, but Kiara protests. “Hey! This is supposed to be about me!”

“Always demanding attention,” Sarah jokes.

“Call her Bridezilla,” Cleo adds.

But the laughter feels good. The laughter feels right.

Across the table, she meets her mothers eyes and lets herself smile.

That feels good and right, too.

-o-

There’s a lot of good things that happen. Kiara bonds with her bridesmaids, and they have a wonderful time. Her mother fits right in, almost better than ever, and Kiara feels like the years have melted away. She’s happy; she’s whole.

She just doesn’t have a wedding dress.

There are a couple she likes okay, but nothing she wants to buy, and the entire process leaves her feeling disheartened. Finding the style is one thing. The fit and the feel is another. No matter what she does, none of the dresses are right. She can’t see herself walking down the aisle in any of them.

She’s ready to admit defeat. Cleo is telling her to slow down and circle back to a few of the possibilities. Sarah is already planning trips to other cities along the coast.

But her mom says, “Well, I do have one more stop to try, if you’re interested.”

“We’ve been to all the bridal boutiques on the island,” Sarah says.

“Plus the best ones on the mainland,” Cleo adds, sounding about as exhausted as Kiara feels.

“It’s on the way back home,” her mom says. And she looks at Kie. “Trust me.”

Kiara’s not sure she should, but she does.

She just does.

-o-

Her mother won’t tell them the plan, but instead has her go back home. She thinks maybe she’s got to pick something up – to confirm an address – but when they finally get back, she has them all come inside.

Kiara hasn’t been inside the house in years, but it’s still mostly as she remembers it. Her mother is impeccable with her decor, so even though there are a few new items, nothing stands out as noticeably different. The same family pictures are on the wall – a bright, smiling family – and Kiara’s childhood photos are still lined up on the mantel proudly.

That’s not for show, Kiara knows. Her mother isn’t performative like some people are. She likes to put her best face forward, but that face is sincere. The pictures have been up all along. Not for any other reason other than the fact that her mother still thought of them as family.

Kiara is still struggling with that revelation as her mother leads them upstairs. Her bedroom door is still closed – and Kiara doesn’t dare ask about it – but her mother leads them to the spare, guest room anyway. They have guests rarely, but the room is nicely done up and cozy. The decor is beach-theme, and there’s a bed with a small desk her mother has clearly set up as a home office. She skirts around all of that, though, and heads to the closet.

“I know it’s in here,” she mutters, starting to go through the clothing.

Sarah looks around the room with a vague nod. Cleo looks uncomfortable. Kiara’s not sure what to do, not sure what to think. She’s about to make an excuse and leave, but her mother chirps.

“Here!” she says brightly, plucking something from the closet and pulling it out. It’s a garment bag – full length and high price. Her mother is promptly unzipping it. “I’ve had it preserve, all these years, but I was thinking about it the other day–”

There’s a flash of white as her mom unveils it, removing the bag, and Kiara feels her stomach flutter as a chill goes down her spine. She knows this dress; she recognizes it. From the wedding pictures, the ones from her parents’ marriage.

“Is that yours?” Cleo asks.

“Oh, Mrs. Carrera!” Sarah coos. “It’s so pretty!”

And it is. It’s simple and elegant. Dated though it may be, there’s a timelessness to it. The material is a soft white, fully silk with light bead embellishments. It’s a formal dress – full length with a medium profile – but it’s not got the frills of so many other dresses. It’s simple and tasteful; elegant.

Her mother had been stunning in it. Barely 19 and pregnant but not showing. She’d defied her parents in this dress; she’d married a Pogue in this dress. She’d decided her entire future with this damn dress.

There had been no way to know when she wore this dress where they’d end up. Her dad’s business could have floundered; they could have been living on the Cut all these years, struggling to make ends meet.

And that hadn’t mattered. Her mother had worn this dress ready for anything.

It’s something to consider, at least. That her parents are people, that her parents were young once. That they had dreams and ideas – that they do have dreams and ideas. They’re thinking of greatness and contending with failures. They’re making this up as they go along and hoping for the best.

Her mother put on this wedding dress to declare who she was and what she wanted.

It’s not so different from Kiara, in the end.

It’s not different at all.

That doesn’t make it all okay – not by a long shot. But maybe it makes it understandable. Maybe it gives her a place to rebuild trust. Luke donated his bone marrow.

Her mother is just standing there, offering a piece of who she is.

Kiara reaches out, daring to touch it. Her fingers skim across the fabric and her breath catches. “You kept it?”

Her mother nods. “I had it preserved until we went to coffee a few weeks ago,” she says. “And then I thought, what was the point? Of keeping it in a box? It’s meant to be worn.”

Perfect lines; impeccable craftsmanship. Delicate stitching and glinting beadwork.

“There’s no pressure,” her mother adds, a little bit of an afterthought. “If you don’t want it, that’s fine. I know conservation is important to you. We’ll donate it if you don’t like it; let someone else use it.”

She swallows, and she’s shaking her head. “I’d like to try it on.”

She stops then, her eyes lifting to her mother’s

Her mother smiles and nods back. “Okay.”

-o-

Sarah helps her into the dress, buttoning up the back in the bathroom. “Are you sure about this?” she asks, whispering it to her. “I mean, if you’re just being polite–”

“No,” Kiara says. “I’m sure. What? Is it bad?”

Sarah steps back and gets quiet. “Shit, Kie–”

Kiara turns, frowning as she looks down. “Is it bad?”

But Sarah’s hand flutters up to her mouth. She looks ready to cry. “It’s beautiful,” she says. “I mean – it’s really beautiful.”

Kiara turns to the mirror to get her first look. The fit is perfect. The fabric slips over the curves of her body perfectly, and the accents hit all the marks. It’s simple and elegant; it’s timeless and yeah. It’s beautiful.

She gapes at herself in the mirror.

“Is this the one?” Sarah asks.

Kiara nods, mouth still hanging open. “Yeah,” she says, and no one is more surprised than she is. “I think this is the one.”

-o-

She steps back out into the room, where her mother and Cleo are waiting. Cleo whistles, loud and low. She knows from the second Kiara walks through the door that’s it.

Her mother stands there, hands pressed to her mouth. There are tears in her eyes.

“Oh, baby–”

Kiara swallows hard. “Mom, the dress,” she says. She pauses, trying to get her voice to stay steady. “It’s perfect.”

Her mother is crying now, wiping away her tears even as she smiles through them. “It’s yours,” she says, with a helpless little shrug. “Baby, all of it has always been yours.”

-o-

She accepts her mother’s wedding dress. On the way out, she runs into her father and maybe it’s the dress. Maybe it’s the day she’s had. Maybe she’s just ready.

“Hey, Dad,” she says. “Before I go, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

She doesn’t have to hesitate. She doesn’t have to doubt. “At my wedding – when I marry JJ,” she says. “WIll you walk me down the aisle?”

He blinks, taken aback. “That’s not – what – archaic?”

“Oh it is,” she says. “Patriarchal bullshit.”

He keeps staring at her.

She shrugs. “But as long as we don’t play it like you’re giving me away, I’d like you to be there,” she says.

At that, he nods. He nods again. “Of course,” he says. “Of course.”

-o-

All in all, it’s a big day. Kiara got her wedding dress. She finds someone to walk her down the aisle. She’s bonded with the girls and had a good time.

And if she’s managed to make peace with her parents, once and for all, then that may just be a welcome side effect of all the rest. Marrying JJ is the start of her life.

As it turns out, her parents want to be a part of that.

As it turns out, Kiara wants them to be a part of that, too.

Reconciliation can be a bone marrow transplant.

It can also be a wedding dress and an arm down the aisle.

Whatever works.

-o-

Kiara is getting her dream wedding. She’s found the perfect dress, and she’s reconciled with her parents. She has her mother to help her plan, and her father is going to walk her down the aisle. She’s getting everything — literally everything — she’s ever wanted.

There’s nothing wrong, nothing at all.

Except — JJ.

JJ is happy and healthy, this much is true. When she asks him, there’s nothing else that he wants. She knows he means it.

She also knows he doesn’t know the truth.

That he has family out there.

Family that cares.

Maybe it’s time to tell him; maybe it’s time for the truth. He helped her reconcile with her parents. She knows she can return the favor.

She just doesn’t know if she should.

If JJ should even want to make nice with his abuser. If JJ should be forced into an emotional reunion before committing to her.

If he’d even forgive her for using Luke. If he’d forgive her for not telling him for three years.

She doesn’t know. She can’t decide.

But she can’t get it out of her head either.

So when they go over the guest list, she brings it up again.

“What about your family?” she asks, hesitating as she says it.

JJ doesn’t seem to notice. “I guess if you want to invite my aunts and uncles, that’s fine,” he says with a shrug. “As long as Ricky’s coming–”

The aunts and uncles and cousins, sketchy as some of them may be, are already on the list. She’s had them on there since the start, ever since they all showed up to be tested as a bone marrow match. She never had to ask them; they showed up anyway, to a person, each and every one.

“That’s not–” she starts and stops herself. She’s not sure what she means; she’s not sure what she wants to say. She has to stop and think. She’s made a promise, and JJ’s beautiful and alive and hers, and she can’t forget who she has to thank for that. “That’s not what I mean.”

He doesn’t know. He couldn’t possibly know. He furrows his brow, giving her a funny little look.

Kiara sighs and gathers a breath for herself. She looks at JJ and wants him to understand this much. “You have other family,” she says. “And you helped me reconnect with my parents, so – I’m just saying. If you want me to return the favor–”

He’s actually surprised by that. Taken aback, really. He stares at her blankly for a second, mouth hanging open. “My dad?”

She shrugs, trying to look like it’s nothing. “The only reason I’m good with my folks is because of you,” she reminds him softly.

“Sure, because your parents – I mean, they love you,” JJ says, and he gestures vaguely out at the air. He flushes a little bit, breath hitching. “They loved you too much and just lost track of stuff. My dad–”

Honestly, it’s hard to say which is worse: JJ thinking that love could be shown with abandonment and bloody lips or JJ thinking that his parents never loved him at all. It’s so hard to make sense of, when she thinks about it. It’s almost impossible to reconcile it all. The horror of JJ’s childhood with what she knows about Luke now and the man he’s trying to be.

She’s worked so hard to get JJ to leave behind his past.

And now she’s worried she might be depriving him of a future he deserves.

He makes a face, wrinkling his nose and shaking his head. “Nah, my dad made his choices,” he says. “The family that matters – the only family that matters – is right here.”

He means it, and he means it so completely that it should ease some of Kiara’s guilt. JJ has regrets – she knows he does – but he’s remarkably resilient about some things. Part of it is denial, but not all of it. Some of it is just the way trauma has forced him to accept certain things in order to move on.

What right does she have to tell him? What right does she have not to tell him? She can’t find her moral center in this, because she loves JJ too much.

She loves him too much to keep the truth from him, sometimes.

She loves him too much to betray the confidence of the one who gave him back to her.

Besides, absolution can’t be plucked from years of neglect and abuse. The price of redemption isn’t a bone marrow transplant. Luke saved JJ – yes. But he also spent a lifetime nearly destroying him first.

To tell JJ now, under these circumstances – was its own form of emotional manipulation. JJ was already prone to forgive his dad, and if he found out the old man saved his life? It would short-circuit every inch of progress JJ has made.

JJ isn’t looking for his parents.

Luke isn’t asking to be found.

Kiara needs to accept that.

She needs to let it go.

“If you’re sure,” she says, barely mustering up a smile.

He smiles broad enough for both of them, taking her in his arms and kissing her. “I’m marrying the most amazing girl in the world,” he says, glowing and full and alive. “Of course I’m sure.”

-o-

With the wedding, it’s hard to let it go.

However, with the wedding, it’s also exceptionally easy to let it go. The emotions make her think of Luke, this much is true. But emotions have very little to do with wedding planning, as it turns out. It’s more work than she’s expecting, really. So many details and working parts.

It’s like a full time job.

If she wasn’t planning the happiest day of her life, then she might question her sanity.

Screw that.

She does question her sanity.

Every single day.

But she lets it be. Right? That’s what she has to do.

For JJ’s sake.

For Luke’s.

And probably, if she’s being honest, for her own.

Chapter Text

-o-

CHAPTER EIGHT

-o-

It comes together, somehow. Honestly, Kiara’s not even sure. Wedding planning isn’t as stressful as cancer treatment, but she can’t pretend like it’s not still one of the hardest things she’s ever done. The inane rituals of a biased, antiquated, patriarchal system nearly drive her to distraction, but she remembers why she’s doing this.

She’s doing this because she loves JJ Maybank.

And she wants the whole world to know she’s chosen him and that he’s chosen her.

She wants there to be no question about who she is, who he is, who they are.

The details, then, don’t matter.

What matters is that she walks down that aisle and declares to all of Kildare that JJ is hers.

That’s what she’s focused on, anyway.

With the date approaching, Cleo and Sarah apparently have other ideas. They go around her back – clear her schedule with JJ’s help – and tell her in no uncertain terms that she’s having a bachelorette party.

Kiara has agreed to everything else in the wedding planning process; there’s no reason to get hung up on a night out with the girls. And she likes to party; she does. But–

“I don’t want JJ to be alone,” she says.

Sarah stares her down while Cleo smothers a smile. “JJ is a grown-ass man,” Sarah reminds her. “He also helped us get you free. So JJ’s on board.”

“But–”

“Girl, no buts!” Cleo says, shaking her head and grinning. “JJ won’t even be home that weekend. The boys have all sorts of nonsense planned for the bachelor party.”

At that, Kiara narrows her eyes. “I mean, we’re not talking strippers–”

“I was talking strippers,” Cleo says. “But I was overruled.”

Sarah rolls her eyes at both of them. “While I fully support the rights of people in all lines of work, I think that’s a rather uncreative option for a party.” she says.

“But the boys–” Kiara ventures.

“Shut up, Kie,” Sarah says. “John B is taking him and Pope axe throwing on the mainland and then on some weird paint ball in the water boating excursion. They’re going to be fine.”

Kiara makes a face. “Axe throwing?”

“It’s a thing, I don’t know,” Sarah says, flitting her hand through the air. “I”m sure they’ll drink too much and burp or something stupid. I don’t know; I don’t care. What I do care about is you, sowing the last of your wild oats.”

Kiara’s discontent only deepens. “My what?”

“You know, just nevermind,” Sarah says. “Be ready. We’re picking you up at 5 PM sharp.”

“But–”

“No buts,” Sarah says sternly. “You need to bring an overnight bag, swim gear, and sunscreen. Lots and lots of sunscreen.”

“But–”

“Just trust us,” Cleo says. “This is for you.”

It’s not that she doesn’t trust them; it’s that Kiara isn’t sure about this whole her thing. She knows this is her wedding, and she knows all the cliches. As the bride, all eyes are on her. She’s the one with the big white dress and all the rest of that shit.

But it’s about JJ, right? It’s about her love for JJ.

Herself – well, that doesn’t cross her mind.

It doesn’t quite compute, maybe.

“It’s going to be great,” Sarah says, softer now. “Kie, I swear. It’s going to be great.”

Kiara looks from Sarah to Cleo, who also nods.

“Okay,” she says. “But what are we doing anyway?”

“It’s a surprise!” Sarah chirps, brightening considerably now even as Kiara feels her own trepidation deepen. “But you’re going to love it!”

-o-

Sarah is annoyingly glib about the party, and Cleo seems to be enjoying the secrecy and the obvious discomfort Kiara is experiencing. She asks JJ about it, who swears he knows nothing. John B and Pope also claim ignorance, but she suspects they’ve been threatened within an inch of their lives from revealing anything. No amount of persuasion – or threats – can tell her anything otherwise, and Kiara reluctantly packs and is ready to go at 5 PM on Friday. JJ leaves with the boys around 3, which means Kiara is stuck there by herself.

She’s not sure why she’s dreading it. It’s not about being away from JJ – necessarily. She does miss him – and being apart is still hard, even after all the therapy she’s been through – but it’s more than that, isn’t it? The whole thing, this time for her.

That’s what’s vexing.

What time does she need? What time does she even want? She emancipated herself to live on her own terms – and since then, all she’s done is live for everyone around her. By necessity, in so many ways. With JJ’s illness, he’d needed her, and JJ has challenged her to let go – but only so much.

She still is with him day in and day out. She still helps out at the charter. And if it’s not the two of them, it’s Sarah or Cleo or John B or Pope. But for herself? Really?

It’s a surreal concept, if she’s being honest. So foreign to her that she’s anxious the whole drive there. Sarah is blasting Bob Marley on the radio while Cleo drives, and every time Kiara asks a question, they tell her to stop worrying – be happy – and turn the music up louder.

By the time they do arrive, Kiara feels almost sick to her stomach, and she’s half tempted to just ask them to take her home right here, right now. To her surprise, they’re at a pier. She’s not sure what she’s been expecting, but they unload their gear and head out to a boat.

It’s not a party yacht. It’s not some fancy rental or something slick and smooth. It’s a rundown looking charter, not too dissimilar to JJ’s. Only this one is outfitted with different types of gear. Not for fishing.

“Ocean cleanup!” Sarah proclaims proudly.

Kiara stands there, gaping.

Cleo snorts. “We were hoping for a bit more enthusiasm.”

“A bit?” Sarah says. “Try any–”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Kiara says, her mind still reeling. “This is–”

Sarah nods expectantly. “--your bachelorette party.”

“It’s what again?” she asks, still vexed by it all.

“Cheese on bread, girl,” Cleo says. “It’s an ocean cleanup crew. We’ve got a 24-hour assignment on her, up and down the coast of the Outer Banks as far as we can get. It’s not fancy accommodations, but they’re providing space to sleep and food as long as we help with the cleanup.”

“And I may have made a generous donation to ensure the food is extra good,” she says. “And that we have real beds. I really wanted a real bed tonight. But I swear, Kie. I made a donation. This is profiting them.”

She looks at Sarah, and she looks at Cleo, trying to understand. “You mean, you two planned an entire ocean cleanup project for my bachelorette party?”

She seems to be the only one who is shocked by this.

“It is your party,” Cleo says.

“So we wanted it to be about you,” Sarah says. “Sheesh, I mean, we do know you a little.”

It makes her laugh, finally. Right there on the pier.

“Okay,” Cleo says. “Are we not–”

She throws herself around them. Hugging them both in a single, massive hug. “Thank you,” she says, because these are her friends. And her friends love her. Her friends know her. “Thank you.”

They hug her back, and Sarah chuckles. “I mean, you do have to work for it,” she says.

“But it’s what I want,” Kiara says, and she pulls back grinning. “This is exactly what I want.”

-o-

It’s definitely not your typical party, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. They get right to work, making the most of the daylight as the crew sets sail. Cleo is ready to help, manning the rigging as they go. Sarah is more interested in the conservation side of things, and she asks lots of questions about what they’re doing and why.

Kiara doesn’t need to ask questions. Kiara knows it all.

She knows about the program; she knows the work they’re doing. She falls into it seamlessly, asking all the right questions and getting her hands dirty. They barely need to tell her what needs to be done. She’s done this research. She’s watched these YouTube videos. This is Kiara in her element, so natural and so true that she can’t believe how long it’s been.

When was her last conservation outing? When was the last time she volunteered? How long had it been since she’d done this?

It’s 24 hours of hard work.

It’s 24 hours of bliss.

When they’re done, Kiara thanks the team and promises to contact them for more information. Sarah and Cleo gather up their things and they go get dinner at a nice – and environmentally conscious – restaurant to share decadent food, good wine, and cheesecake for dessert.

“This was perfect, guys,” she says, taking another bite of cake. “Really.”

Cleo sips her wine. “See, we told you that you’d like it,” she says, truly smug. “We know you.”

Kiara stuffs more cake into her mouth. It’s true; her friends do know her.

It’s just Kiara who forgets who she is sometimes.

“Though, I would like to make it clear, this isn’t a great bachelorette party for one simple reason,” Sarah says, taking a bite of cheesecake as well.

Kiara is at a loss. “I can’t even imagine.”

“A bachelorette party is about saying goodbye to something,” Sarah says breezily. “This? This trip? You’re not saying goodbye to this.”

“If anything, it’s saying hello,” Cleo agrees. And she raises a glass. “To Kiara. The start of her married life and the renewal of her conservation efforts.”

“To Kiara,” Sarah says, picking up her own glass with a grin. “And the woman she is today and the woman she’ll still be when she marries JJ.”

What the hell, Kiara thinks as she picks up her own glass. “To finding yourself.”

And they all drink to that.

-o-

She gets back home, happy and full and excited. She’s ready to tell JJ everything, but he’s already passed out and in bed. John B is waiting for them with Pope on the front porch, and he apologizes on all their behalfs.

“What the hell?” she asks. “Did you get him drunk?”

“I mean, a little,” John B says, and he’s already blushing red.

“But it was totally innocent,” Pope adds quickly. So quickly that it’s mildly suspicious.

She narrows her eyes at them. On the seat next to John B, Sarah looks cool and Cleo raises her eyebrows from her spot next to Pope. “Really? So you didn’t do anything stupid?”

Now, Pope blushes, too.

But John B quickly says, “We just played paintball, Kie. Which, I’m sure is wasteful, but that’s all.”

It does sound wasteful, but it doesn’t sound as bad as she thought. “So, why is he drunk?”

“We played a drinking game at dinner, okay?” John B says. “It was totally innocent.”

“So innocent that you’re both fumbling over yourself?” she presses suspiciously.

“He had to take a shot every time he talked about you,” Pope explains abruptly.

Now, she stops. “What?”

“Look, the idea was to keep him focused on the guys,” John B says. “For one more night.”

Sarah rolls her eyes.

“As it turns out, he loves you a lot,” Pope says solemnly.

“No kidding,” John B says, sounding just a little exasperated. “He was drunk in 30 minutes and passed out within the hour. There was nothing we could do.”

That was a ridiculous thing to say, as if somehow they had had no ability to keep the alcohol from JJ’s hands – or that the entire thing hadn’t been their idea.

But what they’re saying.

About JJ.

And his short-lived bachelor party.

She is plainly incredulous. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes! I’m completely serious!” John B says, and he sounds genuinely upset by this now. “His undying love for you ruined our bachelor party. We had a whole night planned – all this shit – and we were back here, dragging his ass to bed at 9 PM. I am holding you personally responsible.”

Next to him, Sarah snorts a giggle. Cleo is smirking bigger than ever.

Kiara can only stare for a second, dumbfounded. “So, JJ’s–”

“Passed out in bed,” John B says. “He’s fine. Just – really drunk.”

“Like really drunk,” Pope adds. “We tried to get him to stop, but he kept saying he loved you and then kept taking the shots–”

“It was a mess,” John B says. “Your undying love also got us kicked out of my favorite bar. So there’s that, too.”

“He’s going to feel like shit tomorrow,” Pope adds, as if that’s helpful.

Kiara can only stand there. What is she supposed to say? What is she supposed to do? She’s just had the perfect bachelorette party. She’s supposed to feel bad that JJ didn’t – but he loves her.

He loves her that much.

It’s all she can do not to smile.

“He’s in bed?” she asks.

John B grunts, throwing his arm around Sarah. “He’s all yours now,” he says, getting wearily to his feet and pulling Sarah with him.

Pope follows suit with Cleo. “That’s all he wants anyway.”

“Thanks for taking care of him,” she calls after them.

John B waves lazily over his head. “Thanks for ruining my best friend!”

Which just makes her smile for real.

-o-

She waits until the others are safely loaded into their cars before making her way inside. She’s tired, honestly. The trip was amazing, but it was a working trip. She’s achy and weary down in her bones – but in a good way. The best way.

She could use a hot shower and a warm bed. But she stops in the bedroom first to check on JJ.

As promised, he’s there on the bed. The boys had the sense to pull his boots off, but he’s still fully dressed in his shirt and shorts. They’ve pulled back the bedsheets, but he’s lying awkwardly on his side, which is what you’d expect for someone who’s literally had their ass laid in the bed for them.

She sets about making him more comfortable. Adjusting his posturing, fluffing the pillow under his head, and straightening the sheets. He mumbles a little under her touch, stirring slightly as he slurs a few unintelligible sounds together.

He’s so ridiculous, her boy. She stands back and watches him sleep. Blonde hair askew, face still flushed from the alcohol.

He’s hers, though. He’s really hers.

She fought to save him, and he fought to stay. It’s something special when you pick each other, when you give all you have to one another. He’s something special.

The shower doesn’t seem so important anymore. Kiara slips off her own shoes and crawls into the bed next to him. She sidles close, draping her arm protectively across his prone form. He’s warm and peaceful, and when she presses a gentle kiss to his forehead, it seems to rouse him.

Stirring once more, he rolls toward her. “Kiara?”

His eyes flutter but don’t quite open. The syllables of her name are just intelligible. She reaches up, stroking his cheek with a smile. “Yeah, baby. It’s me.”

His eyes open a little bit, and he smiles sloppily. She can still smell the alcohol on his breath, and it clouds his blue eyes. “I’m gonna marry you,” he says, though.

He’s genuinely still sloppy drunk, but that only makes him more adorably sincere in it. This is it, JJ unfiltered. Raw and true – and he’s thinking about her.

He’s thinking about marrying her.

“Yeah, you are,” she says, smoothing his bangs back now as he leans into her touch with a contented little sigh.

His eyes droop closed again, but he looks stupidly, blissfully happy. “I can’t believe you picked me.”

Her heart flutters, and she kisses him as he slips back to sleep. “Yeah, well,” she murmurs. “I can’t believe you picked me.”

-o-

JJ’s sick in the morning, but Kiara has lots of practice holding him up while he hurls. He’s pathetic about it, and apologizes constantly but she tells him it’s no big deal.

And it’s not. It’s a little gross, but it’s just – not. Kiara is in this for the long haul. And all that she’s been through with JJ, a little hangover isn’t that big of a deal.

Besides, it’s easy to forget.

All that matters is that Kiara loves JJ, and JJ loves Kiara.

By this time next week, they’ll be husband and wife.

So who the hell cares about anything else?

-o-

The final week is a rush. Sarah is frantic, and even Cleo is starting to get a little frayed. JJ gets hyper, and Kiara feels like she’s scrambling just to keep up. She has to pick up her dress and decorate the church. She has to finalize the serving plan with the caterers and confirm the seating chart with Sarah before she melts down in an apoplectic fit.

She makes sure that JJ pays the minister and the musicians, and they have a whole rehearsal that goes surreally fast, to the point where Kiara feels like she’s less sure what’s happening now than before.

There’s no time to dwell. JJ hosts the rehearsal dinner, and it’s fully catered by Heyward. Without parents to do this for him, JJ handles all the logistics of the dinner himself, and he’s the one who stands up and thanks everyone for coming and helping.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be here today with all of you,” he says. “Literally. Like, you all had a part in saving my life one way or another.”

There’s a tittering across the crowd, fond and familiar.

JJ shakes his head and presses on. “It’s just funny because I’ve found a fortune, right? I beat cancer,” he says. He turns to Kiara, and holds up his glass. “But tomorrow trumps them all. I’m marrying the best damn woman on this island.”

Everyone claps, and when JJ kisses her, they cheer. She’s blushing red, but she looks at JJ.

She’s never seen him happier.

She’s never seen him more alive.

“I’m ready if you are,” she says, and the crowd cheers again, as she kisses him fully.

-o-

After the dinner, Sarah briskly pushes JJ away and forcibly takes Kiara back to her the house. They’ve decided to break it up, boys at the Chateau, and the girls at Kiara and JJ’s place. This had seemed reasonable at the time, but she misses JJ immediately. She tries to check her messages, but Sarah shrilly insists that this is a boy-free zone and hides her phone.

Literally hides it.

Because she’s a crazy person.

They stay up late – putting finishing touches on the floral arrangements – and then laying on the porch, staring up at the ceiling, talking.

“Is it weird?” Kiara asks. “To get married.”

“I’m married,” Sarah says. “It’s not weird.”

“You’re weird,” Kiara says with a frown.

Cleo grunts with a laugh. “You love him. So of course you want to marry him. That’s not weird.”

“But, like, it’s so adult,” Kiara says, wrinkling her nose.

“Last I check, we are adults,” Sarah says. “I know JJ hides it well–”

“And that’s not weird?” Kiara asks. She glances over at Sarah and Cleo.

Sarah shrugs. “Yeah, it’s a little weird.”

Cleo nods. “Very weird.”

“But like–” she starts and hesitates. “Not bad weird?”

“No,” Sarah says. “Definitely not bad weird.”

-o-

Kiara doesn’t really sleep that night, but she lays on the porch, suspended somewhere between the waking world and the next. She drifts, letting the sound of the water lull her. She had always said the piece of paper didn’t matter, and it doesn’t.

But the commitment does.

The choice does.

She’s choosing JJ.

She’s committing to him for the rest of her life.

For the rest of his life.

May they both be long and happy and full.

-o-

There’s no time to waste in the morning. Sarah has them go, go, go. First to the hair salon, and then to get their makeup done. Back at home, they help Kiara slip on her wedding dress – her mother’s dress – and get her all buttoned in.

When she looks in the mirror, it’s something else, really. She’s the perfect picture of a blushing bride with a small veil and flowers in her hair. Sarah and Cleo stand on their side, grinning. Behind her, her mother gasps.

“You look perfect, Kiara,” she says, doing her best not to cry. “You look absolutely perfect.”

Kiara can’t argue that. All her defiance. And all she can do is stand there in placid, surreal agreement. Sarah’s crying, and Cleo is equally speechless.

Her mother approaches, hugging her gently from behind. “Now come on,” she says. “You have a boy to marry.”

-o-

At the church, everything is set up and ready to go. The musicians are warming up, and the florists are installing the finishing touches with the guests due to arrive within the hour. Kiara is making a few last-minute adjustments while Sarah hands out the bouquets, and her mother has gone to help her dad finish up with the programs.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Kiara calls.

And when she turns, JJ is standing in the door.

He’s in a tux. Fitted with blue accents, just the same color as his eyes. His hair is long and not quite combed, but there’s something about the way it sits on his head. He looks good. He looks really good.

Shit, he looks amazing.

Sarah, though, gets between them with a squawk. “You can’t be here!” she says, trying to rush him out. “It’s bad luck!”

JJ fumbles a little bit. “I just want to talk to her–”

“Talking is for the honeymoon,” Sarah tells him.

“Pretty sure that’s not what the honeymoon is for,” Cleo says.

Sarah is already manhandling JJ out the door when Kiara intervenes. “It’s okay,” she says, pulling Sarah away.

Sarah looks mildly frantic. “Kiara, it’s bad luck–”

“Sarah,” Kiara says, a little louder now. She stares at Sarah until she stills. “It’s okay.”

Sarah looks from Kiara, mouth open, back to JJ. It’s easy to see the struggle before she all but gives up, and Cleo rolls her eyes and takes Sarah by the arm. “Give them some privacy, yeah?”

She doesn’t look thrilled, but Sarah complies. “If it starts raining, it’s your own damn fault,” she grumbles, as she disappears with Cleo out the door.

Leaving just Kiara.

And JJ.

Standing there, JJ looks at her.

Just looks at her.

“Wow,” he says. It sounds like he can barely make his voice work. “You always look amazing, but right now – you look–”

It all fails him, and he shrugs almost helplessly.

All he can say is, “Wow.”

She blushes despite herself. The dress and the makeup and the hair – wow is kind of what she’s going for. But to hear it from JJ – to see it on his face – it is something. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t break in here and give Sarah a heart attack to tell me wow.”

It’s his turn to blush, and he looks younger than he should. He cleans up well, her boy. He looks trim in the suit, and downright dapper with the little bowtie and the vest. His hair, full and wild, is as unkempt as ever, and it’s somehow the perfect accent to his impeccable getup.

“No,” he says. “I just – wanted to see you, is all. It feels so weird, not being with you.”

“The ceremony starts in like 30 minutes,” she says. She’s trying to reprimand him but her voice has no bite. It couldn’t, she can’t. If anything, she loves him for it. “You didn’t have to wait long.”

“Long enough,” JJ says, and he steps toward her. His breath seems to catch as he closes the distance, hesitating when he’s close enough to touch her. He lifts a hand, letting it flit through the air before it brushes against the strands of her hair. “That’s why I’m marrying you after all. I never want to be away from you.”

It makes her smile, and she wants to melt into him. But she holds herself steady, reaching up to take his hand and bring it down in front of them. “You’re not worried about bad luck?”

JJ grins. “What could possibly happen?” he quips. “I’m going to get cancer?”

Her mouth drops open. “JJ, that’s not funny–”

His grin takes on a familiar shit-eating caliber. “It’s a little funny.”

“You’re still in remission,” she scolds him, pulling her hand free to swat him in the head. “JJ–”

He groans with a touch of exasperation. “It’s fine, Kie. I swear,” he says. “I don’t really believe in bad luck, okay?”

“Then how do you explain every shitty thing that’s happened to you?” she points out wryly.

“I don’t know,” he says, shrugging. “I look back and I see a lot of good things, too. I found my family. I became a millionaire. I own my own business and get to do what I love every day.”

He takes her hand again, squeezing it now and pressing it against his heart.

“And I got the girl,” he says softly. “I got the girl of my dreams – who is way out of my league – to marry me.”

His heart is fluttering. Kiara feels it. It races in tandem with her own.

“So I don’t know, Kiara,” he says, leaning forward to kiss her now. “I think I’m the luckiest guy on the planet right now.”

He kisses her then, and Kiara presses up in her heels to kiss him back. She doesn’t give a shit about her lipstick. She doesn’t care about how his hands move through her hair.

When he pulls back, she’s breathless. She looks at him, grinning. “You know what?” she says, tipping her forehead up to meet his. “I feel pretty damn lucky, too.”

-o-

So, Kiara gets married. Everyone is there, the whole damn town and all their friends and family. JJ wears a tux and stands at the front with a friggin’ minister, and Kiara’s dad walks her down the aisle.

Kiara says I do, in front of every damn witness she can muster, and she’s a blushing bride in white, getting married on a perfect, perfect day.

Because for the first time in her life, she well and truly believes in happy endings.

And yeah. She wants the whole island, the whole world, to see it when JJ kisses her and they become man and wife.

-o-

She doesn’t take his name, but they do all the shit you’re supposed to do at the reception. There’s a first dance and they stuff cake in each other’s mouths. John B makes a toast and ends up sobbing halfway through, and Sarah is so drunk that she can’t finish hers and Cleo takes over for her.

She dances with her dad. JJ dances with her mom.

The party lasts all night long, and that’s not an exaggeration.

JJ takes her out, shyly, just after midnight, and they go back home. To the same house, to the same bed, and he helps her out of her wedding dress, letting down the flowers in her hair. She undoes his bowtie, unbuttoning his shirt with her manicured hands.

When he kisses her, she’s never felt more alive, and when she brings him to life, it’s everything, it’s everything, it’s everything.

-o-

The honeymoon is what it’s supposed to be.

A surf trip.

They fly to Spain. They go to South Africa. They go to South America. They go to all the souths, and they stay in bungalows by the sea. They surf all day, and JJ catches fish that they grill fresh over the fire in the sand.

It’s just like what they said, when they were 17, when they were 19, when they were young enough to believe. When everything seemed possible.

Now, everything is possible.

JJ talks to the local boaters while they travel. Kie helps with local conservation causes wherever they end up. They dance in the rain and sleep in the sand and ride the waves until the surf crashes over them and pulls them back to shore.

She doesn’t get tired of it. Not the sand and the sea. Not of the light as it rises and sets each day for them. Not the smile on JJ’s face that makes his dimple show or the sound of his laughter in his chest.

Their friends ask when they’re coming home, but Kiara doesn’t know what to tell them. As far as she’s concerned, home is wherever she and JJ are together.

She doesn’t have to ask him to know he agrees.

-o-

It’s JJ who wants to go back, in the end. He doesn’t say it. At first, she thinks he doesn’t even realize it. But she sees it in his face, when he talks about the charter, their little house by the sea, and their friends.

JJ finally has a place to belong.

He finally has a physical place to call home and people to call his family.

Of course he misses it.

“You ready, then?” she asks one night as they’re lying together in their most recent accommodations. The water outside is gentle and constant, and the moonlight is visible through the open door.

He nuzzles the top of her head from where he’s spooning her. “What?” he says sleepily, like he genuinely hasn’t heard her.

She hums at the touch of his lips, and rolls over onto her back to look at him. “Are you ready to go back?”

He stops, blinking in the dimness. “What?” he says again, but this time he seems to know what he’s asking.

Kiara smiles at him, reaching her fingers up to trace across his cheek. “I can see it in your eyes,” she says. “The way you talk. You’re ready to go home.”

“I love it here,” he protests. “I love this trip, every second with you.”

“I know,” she says. “Wanting to go back doesn’t mean you’re not happy here, you know.”

It seems obvious to her, but it’s clearly less obvious to JJ. He shakes his head. “Home is you.”

She sighs a little, letting herself smile gently. “Sure, but home is also John B. And Pope and Sarah and Cleo,” she says. “And your charter boat and your house. Home is all of those things.”

She’s right, and he knows it, and it’s not a question of admitting that – but just admitting to himself that he wants to go back.

Because going back means leaving this.

And this is paradise, for sure.

But real life is waiting for them.

That’s not bad either.

“JJ, it’s okay,” she says. “I’m not upset.”

“But this trip–”

“Has been everything we ever thought it would be – and then some,” she says. “Because you're my husband. Okay? You’re my husband here – and back in the OBX.”

“But you come first,” he says. “Everything you did for me–”

She shakes her head, pressing her finger to his lips. “That’s not how it works; I’ve told you that.”

His brows knit together, the way they always do when she insists they are equal, that he doesn’t owe her anything.

“This has been beautiful, JJ. The perfect respite,” she says. “But I’m ready to go back to our lives.”

He looks at her, almost like he doesn’t trust himself to speak.

She pulls him down, closer to her, pressing their bodies together as she whispers in his ear. “I’m ready to live.”

He hums back now, shuddering a little bit. “Are you sure?” he asks, face buried in her neck.

She closes her eyes, lifting herself up. “I’m sure,” she moans as JJ moves his hands down her body. “I’m totally sure.”

“Okay, then,” he says, finding purchase with a grunt. “Then I guess it’s time to go.”

-o-

They finish out the week there, the two of them on the beach. There’s a lot less surfing – a lot less fishing and a lot less everything. She and JJ spend most of their time in the hut, tied up together in the sheets.

Then, they sit on the beach, nestled in the sand as the waves lap their feet. They sit together, hand and hand, and Kiara lets her head rest against his shoulder as they look out across the water.

“Did you ever imagine it would be this good?” JJ asks her.

“I didn’t know anything could be this good,” she says.

He sits for a moment, breathing close to her. He chuckles. “This isn’t what I thought our surf trip would be.”

“You thought there’d be more surfing and less sex?” she jokes.

“I’m not complaining,” he protests.

She brushes her fingers against his side, tickling him a little. “I can tell.”

“Ah,” he says, settling back into her. “All I had to do was get cancer to seal the deal.”

She shakes her head, making a face at him even if she can’t actually muster up much annoyance at a time like this. “You had the deal sealed way before that.”

He sits up a little, looking at her until she lifts her head and looks back. “I always loved you, I think. Even when I was too stupid to know what it meant.”

She nods because she thinks she knows that. He fell first, no doubt.

Kiara knows she fell harder. “You know, that day on the cargo ship, when you told me about your surf trip,” she says. “That’s when I knew it was you. Only you.”

He looks surprised. “Really?”

She nods. “You wanted the things I wanted,” she says. “I think the only reason I even tried with John B and Pope was because I didn’t want to admit to myself it was you. I think it was always you.”

Because life isn’t what you think it will be. Life is surprising.

That’s what makes it so damn terrifying.

And so damn good.

His smile is almost shy, and he’s tentative when he touches her again. She stills beneath his fingers until they settle, until they find purchase.

His next breath is steadier as he looks at her.

“The future used to scare the shit out of me, Kie,” he says.

She knows; she’s always known. “And now?”

“Now,” he says, reaching up to cup her face, eyes fluttering closed as he closes the distance to her lips. “I can’t hardly wait.”

-o-

It’s a long trip home, and they make their way hopscotching across the globe before finally taking the ferry across from the mainland to the OBX. They’d packed light from the start, and they’ve been sending souvenirs back home directly by mail as they pick them up. All they have with them is a week’s worth of clothes and enough toiletries for a few days.

That and a lifetime of memories.

A pure, pure, love.

And a general excitement for the little thing called the rest of their lives.

Fairy tales ended with the conflict and resolution.

But that’s just where it starts.

Happily ever after is when you start to live.

After watching JJ nearly die, Kiara is more than ready to live.

-o-

John B and Sarah are there to meet them, naturally. Kiara told them they could take an Uber, but Sarah wouldn’t hear of it. She’s made some ridiculous sign to greet them, as if finding them would be difficult, and there are even balloons. Sarah sees them coming and runs to meet them, practically throwing herself around Kiara, the force enough to nearly knock her over.

“Whoa, Sarah,” he says. He reaches out, offering a supporting hand to keep Kiara upright. “It hasn’t been that long.”

In response, Sarah disentangles herself from Kiara and throws herself at JJ instead. “Long enough, you asshole,” she says, half laughing and half crying into JJ’s shoulder. “Shit, I missed you.”

She’s so utterly sincere that it’s impossible to be mad — or even to mock her. If Kiara needed a reason to remember why this was her home, here it is. Ready to knock her right off her feet.

John B is slow to catch up, having been left with the sign and balloons. He’s less effusive, but no less thrilled. He hugs them both with one hand, grinning stupidly.

Sarah sways him. “You crushed the sign!” she says, and she yanks the balloons from him. She hands them to Kiara, hastily wiping her eyes. “These are for you.”

Kiara accepts them without commenting on the environmental impact of balloons because she’s jet lagged and not a total asshole. She’s also pretty sure anything other than eager acceptance will set Sarah off.

“Thanks,” she says, and suddenly she’s emotional too even though she doesn’t mean to. She’s missed them. It comes as a realization. She’s missed them so, so much.

If she's struggling with her emotion, JJ has given into his entirely. He’s openly crying, so much so that he hugs John B again, and the sign is all but ruined as Sarah squawks in meaningless protest.

“John B!” she yells, hitting him upside the head. “The sign!”

“Forget the sign, Sarah,” he says anyway, voice muffled where his head is buried in JJ’s shoulder. “We’ve got our best friends back.”

And just like that, they’re all sobbing.

Welcome home indeed.

-o-

Settling in is weird.

Mostly because it’s not weird. In some ways, it’s like they never left. They went and saw the world, they learned about each other as two parts of the same whole. It was an amazing experience, filled with unique moments she knows she’ll never forget and probably never be able to recreate. It was other-worldly, really.

Other-worldly – and over.

She misses it, but she’s not sad, exactly. She doesn’t pine for it, even if it was probably the best thing she’s ever done. Because looking back doesn’t get her anywhere.

Coming home isn’t the same thing as going back. They’re back on the OBX to start something new. A new chapter, a new phase. A new adventure.

Sure, marriage is a technicality. No one needs some mundane piece of paper or an archaic ritual for this shit. But Kiara can’t explain it. The way she’s changed. The house, her friends, her life – is all the same.

But she’s different.

She and JJ.

It’s good, she decides as they settle in and settle down. It’s really, really good.

-o-

JJ gets back to business quickly, tackling things with a tenacity that no longer surprises her. It’s clear he’s missed it; he’s missed being on the waters and working with people. He gets back to maintaining the house, too. He’s mowing the lawn and cooking dinners, and he’s already got a list of projects to fix things that were in disrepair when they were gone.

Disrepair is his word, though she’s a little surprised he knows what it is.

Nothing looks off to her.

As for her, she helps out at the charter more often than not, and she does her part around the house. JJ is surprisingly resourceful in the kitchen, and while his meals are not always polished or refined, it’s clear he likes having the flexibility to make whatever he wants. She handles the laundry more or less, and they split the rest depending on the week. She’s a bit better at keeping bathrooms cleaned, but he’s wildly protective of the floors he installed throughout the house, so yeah. That’s a thing.

They’re finding a rhythm that works. A life that makes sense.

As man and wife.

It’s such a damn cliche Kiara almost can’t stand it.

And she can’t stand how much she loves it all even more.

-o-

It’s a few weeks later, when she’s writing thank-you notes for the piles of wedding gifts they don’t need, that it occurs to her. There’s one more thank-you note to write.

Because there’s one gift that matters more than the rest.

She hesitates to write it, but she has no choice. Without it, the wedding never would have happened. None of this would have happened.

She gets out a sheet of paper and takes a breath, her pen poised over the surface.

Dear Luke–

And where does she start? How does she put it into words? What words are there to possibly say all the things she wants to say?

It’s been almost three years since you donated your bone marrow to save JJ’s life. He’s officially been in remission since then. There’s no sign of cancer in his body, and all of his checkups confirm that he is completely healthy and thriving.

You would hardly recognize him from the last time you saw him. He’s doing great, and he’s back to his business, and back to doing all the same dumb shit he used to do. And he’s happy, Luke. He’s very, very happy.

It feels like too much – and not enough all at the same time. She bites her lip, though, and keeps going.

The reason I’m writing you is to say thank you. See, a few months ago, JJ and I got married. We just got back from our honeymoon, and we couldn’t be happier. While I worked hard to keep JJ alive, and JJ gave his all to survive, I know we didn’t do it alone. I know you’re the reason JJ is here with me, and I know you’re the reason I’m his wife.

Her gut turns, a little guilty, and she forces herself to keep writing.

We didn’t invite you to the wedding, and I’m sorry for it. But I’ve kept my promise to you. I never told JJ what you did. He has no idea you’re the reason he’s got a second chance. Because of that, there was no way to invite you, but I still felt like you should know.

Thank you for what you did for JJ. And thank you for what you did for me. If you ever feel ready to tell JJ, just let me know. I can make sure he’s ready to talk to you.

She signs it, after some debate–

With Love – Kiara

And then, she adds the post script.

The photos don’t do it justice. The wedding, the honeymoon.

JJ.

She sends it via priority mail, photos of the wedding and honeymoon tucked inside.

-o-

Now that they’re back, Kiara almost can’t imagine how they stayed away.

More to the point, how JJ stayed away.

They’re just in time for the tourist season, and Cleo is happy to share the load, and the potential profit margin should be excellent if JJ can get himself back into the work mindset.

For the record, JJ can.

In fact, JJ more than can. After spending a few weeks easing in, he’s back to full tours again. He’s actually expanding his booking capacity so they’re at full capacity once more. It’s an ambitious move, but it pays off for sure.

Sales more than keep up. They are selling out consistently, and the upkeep in the boats and paperwork in the back office are not small commitments. Cleo is good at it, and JJ is a natural, but they clearly benefit from clerical support.

Kiara is more than equipped. She’s more than ready. The charter pays their bills, so she has no problem helping out. In fact, since coming back from the surf trip, she’s been there nearly full time. She’s considering asking JJ to hire her full time, which she thinks is a brilliant idea.

It gets her a paycheck to help equalize their family dynamic. It gives her something to do officially, which makes her parents happy and saves her from feeling like a glorified housewife, which is a cliche she simply cannot abide.

And it makes it official. She can spend her days with JJ. It’s easy and simple and works.

In fact, she’s so confident that it’s an easy, obvious idea that she almost forgets to ask him. They’re driving into work one morning when it finally occurs to her to say it.

“I was thinking,” she says as they roll down the street. “All these hours I’m putting in. I’m already working there, so I was thinking we make it official.”

He glances at her, hands on the wheel. “What?”

“I want you to hire me,” she says. “Down at the charter.”

She feels like this is an obvious next step, and she’s proud of herself for taking this initiative for both their stakes. It’s a win-win.

But JJ looks at her like he has no idea what she’s talking about. “What?”

He sounds even more confused than before, and Kiara doesn’t understand why. “It’s not so much about the money – but you know, the position. We can call it front desk. Or office manager,” she suggests. “I’m not picky, but I refuse to be the receptionist.”

When he glances at her again, his expression is plainly incredulous. “And I’m supposed to pay you?”

She bristles now. As if the idea of her being paid for the work she’s doing is onerous to him. “Um, yeah,” she says. “I’m doing the work. I’d like to be paid for it. Right now, it all goes into your account.”

The logic doesn’t seem to land for him the way it should. “Well, I do pay the bills.”

Okay, now he’s starting to piss her off. Like – a lot. She pulls back and scowls at him. “You’re not pulling antiquated bullshit on me, are you? Because I swear to God–”

“I do!” JJ says with a little scoff of his own. When he looks at her, though, he’s more confused than mad. “And I thought you just said it wasn’t about the money.”

Her cheeks are burning, and she’s indignant. “It’s not,” she says, but then she has to try to pull back to get her thoughts back together. “Not exactly.”

His glance at her is weary, to say the least.

She sighs because she doesn’t feel like she has to explain this. “Like, I trust us – and I have my money,” she says. “But I’m doing the work. I’m putting in the hours. This just makes sense.”

This explanation seems more reasonable to him, but JJ’s brow is still creased with what she can only call confusion. “I guess.”

And she can’t figure out why. “What?” she asks. “You don’t want to pay me?”

His cheeks redden a little. “No, you should get paid,” he says quickly, and he seems to be fumbling for the words. “I just – like. Front desk. Office manager. That’s not the job you want.”

“Well, it’s not the dream maybe,” she concedes. “But I’m enjoying it well enough, and I can be there to support you. We can be together.”

All of these points are key selling features. The ones that have her sold, anyway.

His expression has settled, but not in a way that seems amenable to what she’s saying. He’s quiet for a moment, before he says, “You’re not supposed to settle.”

“What?” she asks, and she wants to laugh but she’s not sure how to make her voice work. “I’m not.”

He looks at her, and his blue eyes are flinty. “You are,” he says. “You’re talking about working full time at the charter.”

“I like working at the charter!” she reminds him. “And I’m good at it.”

His fingers tighten around the wheel, and he shakes his head. “You don’t love it, though. It’s not your thing,” he says. “We have a fortune in savings, Kiara. We went through rock bottom and came out on the other side. So you’re not supposed to do what you like. You’re supposed to do what you love.”

It’s – well – what is it? The passion in JJ’s voice steals her breath for a moment, and it leaves her momentarily stunned. She’d had it all figured out in her head. It had all been so perfectly and orderly.

But this – this isn’t what she thought.

This isn’t what she expected.

She knows they have a future; she knows she has a future.

But she’s been so fixed on the moment – she doesn’t know anymore

“JJ, this makes sense,” is all she can say ultimately. “For you. For the charter.”

JJ casts her another look, but keeps his mouth clamped shut for a moment. He looks back at the road, lips pursed for a long moment as they follow a stretch down the road. “Let me talk to Cleo,” he says finally.

The tension releases a little, and the relief spreads over her.

Relief – not regret.

Relief – not resignation.

It’s not.

“Good,” she says, and she grits her teeth together as she forces a smile. “I think you’ll see it’s the best thing for all of us.”

JJ doesn’t disagree at least.

But it’s not lost on her that he doesn’t agree either.

Chapter Text

-o-

CHAPTER NINE

-o-

The day just gets weirder after that.

The comfortable rhythm they’ve built up seems to have evaporated, and JJ is quiet and distant the entire time. When she goes to kiss him before he leaves, he barely turns a cheek to her, and he insists Cleo accompany him on the trip this time.

Alone in the office, Kiara does her best to stay productive. There’s lots to do, after all. She’s not kidding when she says this is best for the charter. She’s taken on a whole host of duties, some she’s sure JJ fully takes for granted. She handles the phones, answers emails. She works with the billing and opens the mail. She puts in orders for supplies and parts, and she mitigates complaints from their partners and customers alike.

She tries not to be smug about it, but what the hell. She feels smug about it. Does JJ have any idea how lucky he is? She’s exceptionally good at this, and she’s smart and friendly and who the hell wouldn’t want to hire her?

He’s an idiot.

She’s literally married to an idiot.

She’s so pissed that she does the job even better than usual, just out of some kind of spite. She’s not sure how that works, her doing more for him when he’s clearly undervaluing her, but it makes her feel better, and her chest is puffed up as they drive home that night.

She drives, by the way.

Yeah. Because she’s been an integral part of this from the start, and really, it’s about time JJ acknowledged that. The paycheck is secondary. It’s not even about the title. It’s just about her husband recognizing that she’s doing this for him and that it matters and that he’s damn lucky to have her.

If she’s looking for a concession, however, JJ doesn’t play along. By the time they get home, it’s hard to say who’s more pissed off – and the dumbest part is, he has no reason to be mad. It makes no sense. She’s been loving and giving and thoughtful and considerate – and he’s pissed?

He makes dinner in silence, and Kiara watches TV while glaring at the screen the entire time. They eat at the table but can barely muster up small talk. He even starts doing the dishes, and she angrily stands next to him to dry, before she finally just can’t take it anymore.

“So?” she says.

He blinks back at her, hands in the soapy water. He has the abject gall to look like he has no idea what she’s talking about. “So?”

She shrugs, letting her frustration get the better of her. “So, did you talk to Cleo?” she presses, and when JJ seems to still be unwilling to answer her, she adds, “About hiring me?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “We talked about it.”

She waits for more, but JJ just washes another dish and puts it on the counter. Kiara does not pick it up to dry it. “And?”

“No,” he says flatly. “She agreed with me. You can’t help.”

She looks at him, incredulous. “What? I know those books better than you.”

“Sure,” he says. “But it doesn’t matter. You’re not going in.”

“But my job–”

He holds up his finger, as if this is the point he wants to make. “See? Your job!” he says, like he’s proved something. “Kiara, this isn’t your job.”

“The profit comes to us,” she tries to explain.

But he’s still shaking his head. “That’s not the point,” he says. “It’s not your job. You? Running a charter company? That’s not it.”

“For you it is, though,” she says. “I want to help.”

“And you have. A lot,” JJ says, and there’s something emphatic about the point he’s trying to make. “But I’m not sick anymore. And I’m not quite as dumb as I used to be.”

She gives him a plaintive look. “Tell me again when you need to file taxes.”

JJ refuses to concede the point entirely. “This is why Cleo is there,” he says. “For someone not from this country, she’s surprisingly good with our legal system.”

She rolls her eyes in exasperation. “You’re being silly.”

“No, you’re being silly,” he says. “Kie, you helping at the charter was a short-time thing. Like, to fill the gap. While I got my shit together.”

“I like working with you–”

“But it’s not your thing,” he insists. He’s about as adamant as she’s seen him, as if this is something he’s decided and will not compromise on.

“What?” she retorts. “I’m supposed to sit around and play housewife? Cook your meals and do your laundry?”

“No!” he says. “Kiara. The nonprofit. You’re supposed to be doing the nonprofit.”

She stares at him for a moment. She knows what he’s saying.

She does.

Doesn’t she?

It’s just–

She knows what he’s saying.

“I guess,” she starts, and finds herself faltering. She lifts a shoulder, almost in some kind of defeat as her pent up anger from the day all but evaporates on her. “It’s just been so long.”

“I know!” he says. “Too long!”

“Sometimes I think–”

He’s quick to shake his head before she can finish the thought. “Nope,” he says. “That’s a no.”

She sighs. “But JJ–”

“But nothing,” he says. “I know how much it matters to you. I know it’s been your lifelong dream, and you put it on hold for me.”

“I put it on hold for us–” she corrects.

He’s barely listening, though. “But there’s no more excuses,” he says. “It’s been on the backburner too long. I should have made you do it a year ago, but I kept waiting for you.”

“I just don’t have the same drive for it,” she admits.

“Because you’ve literally left the paperwork in a drawer,” he says.

She looks at him, a little surprised.

“Yes, I know where it is,” he says. “I see it all the time and it’s starting to drive me nuts. So go get it out of the drawer, Kiara.”

Go get it out of the drawer.

Her dreams.

Her future.

She hesitates, biting her lip as she looks at JJ. “But we’re happy like this,” she says softly. “I’m happy at the charter.”

He’s stubborn, though. He’s not unkind, but he is unyielding. “You didn’t let me quit when I asked,” he reminds her, bringing her back to that moment in the hospital when he’d asked her to let him go. The request she’d ignored in order to save his life anyway.

“It’s not the same thing,” is all she can say.

“You saved my future when I was ready to throw in the towel,” he says. “Now, I’m going to save yours.”

It’s harder and harder to argue.

Because JJ’s right.

“Go get the paperwork, Kie,” he says, gentler now. “And we’ll do it together.”

Because yeah.

She realizes.

Yeah.

That might work after all.

-o-

She finds the paperwork, still in the drawer where she left it all those years ago. Her life, on hold. Her future, on pause.

Herself, suspended.

John B and Sarah, Pope and Cleo.

JJ.

They’re all living.

It’s her turn now.

-o-

Legally, there’s not much more to do. She’d handled most of the setup before. With the paperwork in orders and the legalities squared away, she just has to start.

It’s so simple that it’s overwhelming. There’s no rule manual, after all. It’s her nonprofit; she can do what she wants with it. Success or failure is within her reach. She sets the tone, she provides the direction, it’s hers.

It’s never occurred to her before how much of her life had been reactionary. For all that Kitty Hawk had been bullshit, she still thinks about the diagnosis. Oppositional defiant disorder. A desire to rebel against any authority.

It’s not entirely wrong, if she’s being honest. Her teenage years were defined by what she didn’t want to be, and she’d set herself up in opposition to the limiting power structures in her life.

But she’s left her parents behind; the relationship is entirely on her terms now and within her boundaries. She’s not in school, she’s financially independent. The choice is hers, and she can’t keep moving away from shit that pisses her off. She has to pick a position and move toward something she cares about.

She has to grow up, basically.

She has to know who she is, and not who she isn’t.

Maybe that’s what’s so overwhelming about it.

It’s her choice.

It’s her future.

It’s her.

And, she doesn’t know how to admit it – but she also can’t deny it – it’s paralyzing. It’s absolutely, totally terrifying.

“Operationally, we have the latitude to start operations at any time,” she says, but then she taps the financial statements – which are all filled with null sets. “But starting fundraisers. Organizing events. It all takes money.”

JJ doesn’t seem to know what he’s looking at with the financial statements – she’s laid out the nonprofit’s and her own. He shrugs, though, like it probably doesn’t matter. “Well, we have money right.”

“I have money,” she says, tapping the paper with her account details. “We just got so busy when I got the nonprofit approved that I never transferred it.”

JJ still doesn’t seem to see any problems. “So?” he says, shrugging. “Isn’t that what you always kept your money aside for? I thought a nonprofit was always the goal. That’s why we’ve spent my money, not yours.”

That’s partially true. The nonprofit is the goal, but it occurs to her now that she’s been selfish not dipping into her own funds. She’d been willing to blow it all on Luke, that’s true. But she’s not paid a cent of rent, and most of the bills are covered by JJ. They can cashflow most things from the fast success of the charter business, and the rest seems to come in dividends from the assets Pope helped him set up.

She’d been willing to give it all up in a grand gesture to save the boy she loves.

He’d been giving up, day by day, and bit by bit.

The disparity feels heavy to her suddenly, and her guilt twists with guilt.

He’s looking at her, increasingly vexed by her silence. “Just transfer the money,” he says, nodding to her account slip. “I mean, why not?”

“It’s just – a lot of money,” she says, as if that can explain her hesitation. She could say she’s afraid she’ll need it to save his life again.

Or maybe she’s just afraid to actually start living her life.

She’s not sure she even knows.

“And what good is it in your account when you want to save the world with it?” he asks, brow wrinkled. “My old man was shit at most things, including money, but he wasn’t all wrong. Money doesn’t have worth until you spend it.”

“I know,” she says, and she does. She really does. The invocation of Luke doesn’t make it easier, since he nearly took it all. “I just want to make sure I’m using it right.”

He genuinely can’t seem to fathom what she’s saying. “You’ve always said you’d use your fortune to save the world.”

“Sure, but I don’t even know how to save the world,” she reasons. “What if I mess it up? What if the nonprofit is a flop?”

The possibility of failure doesn’t seem to bother him. “And what if it’s not? My money’s on you, Kie. Every time.”

She sighs, slumping a little. “I don’t know.”

“Look,” he says, straightening up a little, as if to make another attempt at bolstering her. “You want to save the world, right?”

She nods, a little uncertain. “Yeah.”

“And it takes money to do that shit, right?” he asks, still leading her along.

She’s even more hesitant to agree. “Yeah.”

“And you have a whole shit load of money sitting right here in this account, right?” he says, leading her on with a knowing and ever patient look.

Her chest is tightening and she works her jaw. “I guess.”

He scoffs now. “You guess?” he retorts. “You’ve barely touched that money. You don’t even have to transfer it all. Just enough to get started.”

She frowns, fingering the paper as she chews the inside of her lip. “I spent some on my legal fees.”

“Wow, big spender,” he muses cheekily.

“You haven’t spent much either!” she protests.

“I bought a boat,” he reminds her.

“A used boat,” she retorts.

“Still,” JJ says. “I bought a boat. And the supplies for the house.”

“But you refused to pay a contractor,” she reminds him.

He makes a face, clearly annoyed. “Because I can do it better, and they look to rip you off, especially since we’re new money,” he says. “Kooks can be taken advantage of, maybe, but I’m not a Kook.”

She grins at him, despite herself. “You’re not helping your case any.”

He rolls his eyes. “There’s no case – I’m not – trying to win,” he says. “I’m just trying to get you to make the leap.”

“I just don’t want to spend our nest egg,” she says. “In case something happens.”

He nods. “What? Like getting cancer?”

She levels her glare at him.

He holds his hands up. “Still too soon,” he says. “But seriously. You don’t have to transfer all the money. Just some of it. Just enough to get things going. The charter is self-sufficient. We’ve paid off the medical bills, and Pope went all crazy and shit with diversifying some of my long-term funds so I’m getting – dividends or whatever.”

She’s not sure if it’s frightening or reassuring that JJ almost sounds like he knows what he’s talking about.

Almost.

He reaches across the table, putting his hand on hers. “I’m not saying we should be reckless. I know I have to be careful about that shit. No more buying hot tubs for either of us.”

She blushes a little, but has to smile. “I told you: I used your money.”

“With the dividends, I didn’t notice,” JJ says. “Also, I was dying, so–”

She draws her hand back with a scowl. “JJ!”

He holds his hands up again. “I know, I know, still too soon,” he says. “But it’s not too soon for you to do this thing. We can transfer a smart amount of money, invest the rest, and make sure we’re doing it right.”

He’s talking rationally, is the problem. He makes sense.

Kiara’s not sure why she’s so reluctant.

“Like, why wouldn’t you?” he presses, because he senses it, too. He shrugs. “What are you holding onto the money for if not for this?”

She thinks about Luke. She thinks about the price she was willing to pay to keep JJ alive. She thinks about her checkbook in her hand, ready to give Luke everything in exchange for more time with JJ – for this.

It’s catching up with her, suddenly. The composure she’s put together, the version of the truth she’s composed so carefully for JJ. It’s all coming to the surface, pushing against her throat until she thinks she may have to just say it, just tell him already.

“Kie,” he says, and he tilts his head to the side. He looks confused. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Now, the tears burn behind her eyes as her throat threatens to close itself off entirely. In her mind, she sees JJ on the hospital bed, intubated and sedated. She sees Luke in the hotel room, telling her he doesn’t want the money. They’d all agreed, every one of them, that it was best like this, that it was better for JJ. It’s always been about JJ.

So why the hell is she falling apart now?

“Kiara, what the hell is wrong?” he asks, and he sounds worried. He sounds confused. He sounds scared.

He’s here with her. His stupid blonde hair and his ridiculous blue eyes. The shape of his face, the way his lips purse, his long fingers. Her beautiful, beautiful boy.

Saving him is saving herself, in the end.

And she made a promise.

“Nothing,” she says, when she finally manages to speak. She swallows and forces herself to keep going. With another breath, she finds some semblance of herself again, and she offers up a small smile. “I’m just – worried about doing it wrong, you know? It’s a lot of money. I want to make sure I’m using it for the right cause.”

The answer seems to satisfy him. He nods a little. “Well, fine,” he says, simply as he can. He lifts his chin up. “I’ll make your first donation.”

It’s not at all what she’s expecting. She makes a face. “What?”

But JJ is now fully committed to his idea. “I’ll make the donation to get your nonprofit off the ground,” he says, and he sounds quite pleased with himself for it.

She’s gaping now. “But this is my nonprofit–”

“And my money!” JJ insists. “It’s, like, what? A tax write-off?”

He’s missing the point. Entirely on purpose. Entirely like JJ. “JJ, that’s not–”

“As it turns out, I still have some expendable funds,” he quips, and he’s grinning now. In that annoyingly confident way of his when he has a plan he knows will work.

A plan he knows can’t be argued against.

Even if she wants to. “JJ–”

But he is resolute. “I believe in this shit,” he says, and he looks at her, steady and sure. Like he sees everything, and she’s so overwhelmed by it – by his sheer acceptance – that she can’t open her mouth for any other protest. “I believe in you.”

And that, in the end, is that.

-o-

To be fair, Kiara does try to talk him out of it – multiple times, in fact. But JJ is 100% set on the idea and will not be deterred. When she threatens to stop him, he gives her a funny look and asks if she thinks refusing donations is an appropriate stance to take for a successful nonprofit venture?

It’s not, of course.

But she’s also not trying to raid her husband’s pockets here.

He’s obstinate about it, though. Stubborn as hell. He says it’s his money, and it’s his choice if he wants to invest in the beauty of his island. She tries to enlist John B to stop him, but that’s a total disaster. John B thinks it’s a great idea and pledges a donation as well. Because they’re both bastards, the two of them.

He argues that it’s good for his business anyway. A healthy ecosystem will help preserve the oceans he relies on for his business.

He’s right, which is the shitty part. He’s right about everything. Every last point.

So, she accepts the donation.

And Water and Light is officially in operation.

-o-

Now that Kiara has funds and an operational nonprofit, there’s no excuse.

She also has no idea what to do.

Or she does. She has countless ideas. Ideas are easy. She’s had them all her life. Turning those ideas into actionable programs is just a whole different game.

It’s harder. She can’t just join someone else’s project. She can’t just make a sign or sign a petition. She needs to make a difference.

“You’re thinking too hard,” JJ tells her after she flails for three days straight.

“I have to think,” she says. She runs her hand through her hair, looking at the paperwork spread out on the table before her. She’s printed as many things as she can. Sample project proposal. Other mission statements from similar groups. The list of identified environmental needs in the Outer Banks. Research on the most effective project ideas. “If I don’t spend the money right, I’m just wasting it.”

The idea of it stresses her out, more than a little. But JJ is almost annoyingly indifferent. “Yeah,” he says. “But you’re not even to that point. Pick your project.”

He taps at a stack of papers, as if that helps.

“But I have to find the most viable one. Like what can I pull off?”

“You can pull off anything,” JJ tells her without hesitation. “But you’re starting at the wrong point.”

She draws a breath, striving for calm. “What do you mean?”

“Kie, what do you want to do?” he asks.

She looks at him. “What?”

“Like you want to save the world,” he says. “But what do you want to save first?”

Her mouth opens and closes. “I — don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” he says.

“Turtles,” she blurts because she’s known that since she was 13. Always. “I want to save the turtles.”

He nods steadily. “Okay,” he says. “Which one of these can save turtles?”

She rifles through the pages with a little frown. “Well, there are a couple,” she says, pulling out several and bringing them to the top.

“And which one of these do you like best?” he asks.

She considers it. “Well, this one is easy—“

“Not easy,” he says. “Which one do you like the best?”

The question stops her because she knows. She pulls a paper out and lingers. “I mean. This one is great. The impact is great.”

“So do that,” he says, as if it’s simple.

“But—“

“No buts—“

“I have to be practical,” she frets.

“No, you don’t,” he says. “We fought hard to get here. To live. So screw the odds remember?”

It’s not fair. It’s not right.

Except it is.

It just is.

JJ is right. JJ is impossibly, completely right.

She puts the paper down, smoothing it on top of the others.

“Do you really think?” she asks with hesitation.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. “Nope,” he says. “I know.”

-o-

Even with the decision made, Kiara finds herself hesitant. For a teenager who thought she knew everything, adulthood has humbled her. JJ doesn’t prod her, but he is insistent in his support, and it’s only with his help that she starts making progress.

She starts the paperwork.

She makes the calls.

She gathers supplies. She obtains permits and starts marketing. She secures a few sponsors and accepts a few volunteer applications.

JJ grins at her at every step.

“It’s going to be great, Kie,” he vows. He believes in the cause, he believes in her. “Just wait.”

He believes so much, so purely.

She thinks she might not believe it.

But she does believe him.

-o-

It seems impossible, but it starts coming together. The permits get approved. Her corporate sponsorships are finalized. She’s getting a list of reliable volunteers, and she’s accepted a run of new donations from interested parties in the community.

She’s not sure how it happens, but she keeps pushing ahead. If only because JJ asks her day and night how things are going, and she would hate to tell him that nothing is moving forward when he’s so damn invested.

And she’s invested, too. He’s keeping her on track, but the more she works on it, the more she remembers that this is her passion. She loves this shit, every last bit of it. Saving the world means taking on the bureaucratic bullshit, and you know what? She can do that.

She managed JJ’s medical bills and treatment schedule.

She can certainly do this.

She can.

She does.

For the first time in her adult life, Kiara is living the exact life she thought she would live.

-o-

The note comes just a few weeks after she sends hers. It’s small and handwritten, with her name and address scrawled on the front. There’s no return address.

She knows without looking it’s from Luke, and she waits until JJ is at work to open it. She’s not sure why, really. If she’s protecting Luke. If she’s protecting JJ. If she’s just protecting herself. She’s not sure which answer is right anymore.

But she opens it alone, curled up on the porch. She’s sitting on the swing, the one JJ made, and she can see out across the marsh. She wonders if Luke used to enjoy this view. Back when he was sober.

It doesn’t matter; Luke’s not here now.

The letter is short and to the point.

Glad it was such a good day. You look happy.

She can almost sense his hesitation, like he’s not sure he gets to say more. But he adds another paragraph anyway.

JJ looks good. Healthy. Still no sign of the cancer? I hope it’s still working.

She’s quite sure now, he’s written more than he intends. Probably more than he’s written in quite some time – maybe ever. It’s telling, then, that there’s more to the letter, almost as if he had no choice but to write it.

I think we keep the secret. Sounds like he’s got everything he needs.

He sounds so decided; he sounds so sure. She can almost see it, in the force strokes of his pen. She wonders if he feels regret. She wonders if there’s uncertainty. She wonders if he looks back and wishes he could do it all again.

Or if maybe that’s just her.

He ends the letter with no salutation. He just scribbles his name.

Luke.

She reads it once; she reads it again. There’s no way to change the words, just like there’s no way to change the past. She puts the letter away, tucks it in her top drawer where JJ will never find it, and moves on with her day.

She does her best, anyway, to move on with her day.

-o-

Kiara can’t help but dwell on Luke a little. He’s the father-in-law she’s not supposed to know, and the man who saved JJ’s life. He’s the bad guy and the hero, and she still can’t decide if she’s doing the right thing by keeping the truth from JJ.

She’s thought about it a lot over the years, and she always comes to the same conclusion.

Luke is happy.

And JJ is thriving.

What the hell does Kiara think the truth will do about that?

-o-

Luke’s in the back of her mind, but the nonprofit preoccupies the rest of her attention. She knows for this to work, she has to work. It’s not all about ideals and brilliant self determination. She has to get out there and shake some hands. She has to look people in the eye and sell her cause to others. She has to make connections.

No doubt, her father would raise his eyebrows and say he told her so.

And if she’s relying on the skills she picked up from watching him run his own business all those years, then she’s not admitting it.

What she is doing is getting to work.

That means securing donors.

More donors

After JJ and John B made initial investments, she’s had a few other investors. Most were small and local; one of her business partnerships made a larger donation. But she knows how this works. Saving the world isn’t just a bureaucratic nightmare. It’s expensive.

She needs money.

And a lot of it.

Most of this starts with making connections – and then following up on those connections. There’s some bullshit about having to make so many connections with someone before you secure an in-person meeting. Even then, turning a lead into an investor requires a level of sophistication that makes her nervous. She’s passionate, sure. But she needs to convince actual people that she can be trusted with their money.

And a lot of it.

The fact that she’s scared shitless is notwithstanding. JJ is so enthusiastic that when she secures her first face to face meeting, he nearly knocks her over from hugging her so hard. There’s no way to not go on the meeting now, even though she’s utterly terrified by the time she gets there, sweating through her shirt as she sits thumbing through a magazine in the waiting room of the guy’s office.

This dude’s legit. One of the most prominent local businessmen. He’s a Kook, sure, and he’s got a reputation for being a hard-ass – but not a bad guy. He’s got a bent for local charities that makes him a good choice, and Kiara just has to convince him that her upstart charity is worth the risk.

When she comes into his office, he’s looking at her keenly. Normally, she might think he’s a creeper, but she is about to ask for a shit-ton of money, so some scrutiny is understandable. She does her best to smile like she’s not terrified, shaking his hand and accepting his invitation to sit down across from his office chair.

“I hear you have a proposal for me, Ms. Carrera,” he says, rocking back with a smile. It’s not quite a smirk, but it’s imbued with a confidence Kiara knows she doesn’t have herself. “Or Mrs. Maybank?”

She presses into a smile. “Ms. Carrera is fine,” she says.

He arches a brow in question.

“Marriage doesn’t have to be an archaic exchange of values,” she tells him curtly, because she’s here for money, not to compromise her morals.

He grins in response, like this answer genuinely pleases him. “I completely agree,” he says. “I heard it was a lovely wedding, though.”

“A wedding is a day; a marriage is a lifetime,” she says diffidently. “But really, that’s not why I’m here.”

He extends his hand. “Of course,” he says. “I apologize that I’m not very good at small talk. I prefer business myself.”

She suspects this is only partially true. It’s not that he’s not good at small talk; it’s that he uses it to assess who he’s dealing with.

He’s not assessing her looks.

He’s assessing her priorities.

“So, business, Ms. Carrera,” he says, easily getting her preferred name right. “You want money?”

It’s so blunt that she balks. “I have a cause I think is worthy—“

“—of my money,” he says plainly, nonplussed by it. He’s testing her again. She’s said this is business, and he wants to see how serious she is.

She has stacks of figures and charts and studies about the cause.

But she has to sell him.

A nonprofit isn’t all about idealism. It has to be grounded in reality.

And so does she.

If this is what she wants.

If this is who she is.

It is.

So she smiles and straightens, looking him in the eye. “I can tell you about the cause,” she says, “but I can also tell you why your investment with me will pay off for that cause. It’s not about the difference you can make. It's the difference you will make with my group.”

He appears interested, and he inclines his head. “The floor is yours, Ms. Carrera.”

-o-

She doesn’t go through every graph and chart, but she pulls up the numbers that matter. She makes her case and settles her point. She’s clear, decisive, and persuasive.

The way you are when you know who you are.

Needless to say, it pays off. He doesn’t need time to think about it, he cuts her a check, right then and there. She thanks him and shakes his head. He hesitates, and gives her a discerning look.

“I wasn’t sure what to expect with you, Ms. Carrera,” he says. “I know your parents, after all.”

She keeps her face benign. There’s no need to air her family drama. “Oh?”

“You’re a bit of a hard ass, like your old man. But passionate like your mother,” he observes. “The best of both.”

That one hits her, for some reason. She doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m just glad you’re doing something good with your life,” he says. “You’ve clearly found your calling. I’m happy to be a part of that.”

“It took me some time to get here,” Kiara says as diplomatically as possible.

“You’re young yet,” he says. “But treasure hunts and cancer — it would break some people. But it’s the strong that come out better for it on the other side.”

She does her best not to blush, but it’s harder than she cares to admit. “I didn’t do it alone.”

He smiles at her, like he knows. “None of us do.”

That’s either the most reassuring or terrifying thing Kiara has ever had to accept.

-o-

It’s not until Kiara gets home that she realizes what she’s done. She puts the check on the table in front of JJ, and he stares at it for a second.

“Holy shit,” he says. “Is this–”

She nods, feeling a little more numb. “I got the investment.”

“Holy shit!” he says again, but now his voice is pitching with absolute excitement. “Kie! Do you know what this means?”

She does, on some level. The number of zeroes on that check means everything.

Her nonprofit. Her fundraiser. Her cause. Her future.

Her.

“Kiara!” he says, and he scoops her up and spins her with a whoop. “You did it!”

He’s still grinning when he puts her down, grinning as he kisses her, hard and deep. “Holy shit, you did it,” he says, almost breathing it on her now.

She eases back, picking up the check again. All she can do is shake her head. “This investment is all I need,” she says. “I can really get this up and off the ground. It’s actually going to happen.”

“Of course it’s going to happen,” JJ says with a scoff when he tells her. He acts like it’s always been self-evident, like he’s never had doubt.

She humors him, but just barely. “But now that we have the funds, there’s so much more to do.”

“I know,” he says. He taps the side of his head with his finger. “I helped make your planning list, remember?”

She does remember, but somehow that's not much comfort. “I think I can secure more volunteers. Maybe Sarah can help with publicity? But I still need corporate sponsors to donate the supplies.”

“Well, if you need supreme charter services–” he ventures.

“I need water and t-shirts and other supplies,” she says. “If this is a half-day event on the beach, we need food–”

“Corporate sponsors, huh?” he says. He wrinkles his nose thoughtfully. “You leave that to me.”

She sighs. “JJ–”

“I got this,” he says.

“You have to be professional–”

He feigns abject insult. “Are you saying I’m not a professional? Because, between the two of us, only one person here has a business. A successful business, I might add.”

She purses her lips. “You know what I mean.”

He rolls his eyes, leaning over to kiss her. “I do,” he says. And he sobers a bit. “But I can do this. You focus on volunteers. Let Sarah do your marketing. And I’ll get you your corporate idiots.”

She exhales with a little mewl. “Sponsors–”

“Same thing!” he says, and he starts away, grinning. “I got this, Kie! Trust me!”

-o-

Kiara trusts JJ.

She does.

She’s just – not stupid. JJ may be all in on her event. And JJ’s enthusiasm is always helpful.

His plans just decidedly less so.

It’s easy to remember some of his worst ideas, such as firing a gun on a public beach and stealing 25k from a drug dealer. No, JJ is not known for his exquisite plans. He thinks things through, but with a different set of criteria.

But it’s been a long time, in the end. JJ hasn’t been nearly as reckless since his cancer, and really, once he went straight after the El Dorado money came in, he’s been different.

She hesitates to call it better, but it’s more mature. Grounded.

He knows what it means to have something to lose.

All of which is to say, she’s surprised by his results for her event.

Because they’re good.

They’re really, really good.

It’s not just that he has good instinct. He has practical plans to bring his ideas to fruition. He’s ambitious and practical all at once, and his follow through is impeccable. He’s always had ideas, they’ve just never been good ideas, and his execution of said ideas has always been spotty.

Now, however, it’s like JJ has come into his own. He knows what to do and he has the means to do it. And for Kiara, he’ll do anything.

He leverages every business connection he has, and it’s a monumental asset to her as she gets things going. She has publicity this way – and she has corporate backing. The backers she gets from JJ allows her to fully ground her project – and aspire to more things that she’d originally anticipated. In short, it’s JJ who manages to get her the money, funds, and partners she needs to get things started. He makes the introductions; Kiara sells the cause.

And it’s not just that.

All this time managing his business has taught him to be disciplined in new ways. He’s not just leveraging his old skills. He’s showing her all new ones. He’s on top of her timeline, and he’s good with the details. Sometimes, he’ll figure shit out for her preemptively. But most of the time, he’s just there, willing and ready to help.

“Just tell me what you need,” he says. “Anything at all. I’m yours.”

It’s one thing when you’re in love with a cute, funny, impossible boy.

It’s another thing when you make that boy your partner. At 17, they’d moved in together because they didn’t know what else to do and their hormones told them it made sense.

Now, they’ve stayed together because they’re two parts of the same whole.

Also, their hormones still tell them it makes a shit-ton of sense.

It’s more than trust, then. It’s more than love.

It’s just everything.

Kiara doesn’t know how to say it.

But she feels it.

She feels everything.

-o-

It’s Kiara’s project, and JJ is her main source of support. But he’s not the only source of support. All the Pogues know how much this means to her, and all of them help out as they can. Cleo is good for any heavy lifting, so when she gets shipments in, Cleo is her first call. Pope is busy with school, but he reviews her paperwork and press releases, ensuring everything is presentable and pitch-perfect.

John B often comes part and parcel with JJ. JJ’s plans often need backup, and John B is there at his hip without question. No doubt, John B remembers how they all rallied behind his treasure hunt. He’s been returning the favor all these years since, even though none of them have asked for it.

That’s sort of how it works, though. That’s how family is. How it’s supposed to be.

And then there’s Sarah.

She’s a Routledge now, legally.

But part of her will always be a Cameron – in the best ways.

Because yes, Pogue grit and resilience is great.

But Kook cunning and winning charm? That’s pretty great, too.

“It’s all set up,” Sarah says, helping Kiara move a few boxes to clear up space for the fresh paperwork she needs for the city permits. “They wanted to do it here, but I thought putting you out on the beach would be better. Since you don’t have a storefront yet, at least we can get you out there. Makes you look authentic.”

Kiara nods, pleased with that idea. “Do you think I need a storefront?”

Sarah shrugs, a little noncommittal. “Eventually,” she says. “After one successful event, I think you’ll have the grounding for it.”

“But the funding–”

“You have to take a few chances to establish yourself,” Sarah says. “The more professional you look, the more professional they’ll treat you. I think it’s a good idea.”

Kiara considers it and shrugs, too. “I guess we get through the event first,” she says. “Are you sure about the interview?”

“What?” Sarah says, a little distracted as she lays out the papers for Kiara’s permits. “Of course I’m sure. I’ve also got feelers out with the paper, and I mean, news print isn’t what it used to be, but it’s a small island. I think it’s worth it.”

Kiara smirks, picking up her pen to get started. “Well, who am I to question a Cameron?” she jokes. “You were born with publicity.”

It doesn’t elicit the smile she expects. Sarah’s been surprisingly well adapted to the fact that her family is a mess; in fact, she’s usually the one cracking jokes. Otherwise, she wouldn’t make the joke.

But this time, Sarah just sighs a little. She shrugs a bit. “I mean, it’s up to you,” she says with some distraction. Her lack of commitment intensifies, and Kiara’s stomach does a little flip.

She feels guilty, a little. Mostly, she’s just worried. “No, Sarah,” she says as quickly as she can, seeking to reassure her friend. “I mean, I trust you. Completely.”

Kiara’s certainty only seems to deflate Sarah even more. “I’m just saying–”

“Sarah,” Kiara says, somewhat insistent now. “I trust you. I do.”

“Okay,” she says, but it’s even quieter now. She’s stopped moving the paperwork around, and she just stares at it – but Kiara knows she’s not seeing it really.

And Kiara forgets the paperwork altogether. She looks at her best friend instead. “Sarah?”

Sarah blanches somehow.

“Hey,” Kiara says, and she forgets the paperwork altogether now. She leans down a little, to look Sarah in the face. “Is everything okay?”

“What?” she asks, clearly distracted. “Yeah.”

It’s a wholly unconvincing proclamation, but Sarah has been far, far too good to her. She wants to be gentle with her concern, considering all the bullshit Sarah has seen her through. “You’re just a little — I don’t know. Off.”

Sarah rallies herself quickly. “Don’t be silly,” she says, and her renewed confidence is almost believable. “Everything is perfect. I mean, right? We’re living the dream.”

There’s still something forced about it, but it’s subtle. And really, it’s not that she thinks Sarah is lying. It’s just that there’s something Sarah isn’t telling her.

People have secrets; it’s normal. Friends don’t have to tell friends everything. If it’s important, Sarah will tell her when she’s ready.

“You sure?” she asks, because it still feels weird, and she would be there for Sarah any way she could.

But Sarah nods, smiling and sure, the confidence fully restored. “Positive,” she says. “Now, let’s talk about the interview.”

-o-

She does the interview. She does all the interviews. She has the paperwork; she makes the phone calls. She follows up and verifies. She corrals people and delegates. She has everything in order, everything together, and everything ready.

By the day of the event, it’s all ready to go.

Everything is ready.

Except her.

Kiara plans on everything except her own mental breakdown.

It happens after dinner. JJ’s cooked, and he’s cleaning up in the kitchen. Kiara is verifying some last minute details on her phone, so things are bright and ready to go. But as she scrolls through her email, the weight of the messages start to add up. It occurs to her that she’s got a lot of people behind her.

And that’s a good thing.

And it’s a terrifying thing.

If she screws this up, then all the time, all the money, all the effort of the people around her – it’ll be for nothing. She’ll have taken favors in vain, and paid back nothing. She won’t just betray her cause, she’ll betray every person who ever believed in her.

That’s a little scary, honestly.

It’s terrifying.

She sits there, staring blankly at the messages. She’s been scared before. She has. She doesn’t have to think hard – she doesn’t have to think far. It’s only been a few years since JJ was on life support, and Kiara was bribing Luke to save his life. And before that, JJ’s relapse. His initial diagnosis. Kiara’s no stranger to sitting there, staring at the future, and not knowing for sure if she can handle it or not.

Since then, she’s built herself up. She’s told herself JJ is going to be fine, and that means she’s going to be fine. Nothing can hurt them; they won’t know failure like they’ve already known failure. They’ve had a bad deal.

Now it’s time for the happy ending.

But that’s not how life works. You don’t get to just live a happily ever after with no strings attached. There’s no guarantee. Even JJ, in remission, has no guarantee. All the positive reports, all the years of healthy tests – and it’s still possible for the cancer to come back. It’s still possible for him to lose the fight.

To live is to love. To love is to risk.

You can’t succeed without putting yourself on the line.

You can’t fly without the risk of falling.

She can’t see the messages anymore, and she can’t make her finger keep scrolling. She sits there, frozen in place, breath catching in her throat.

She’s worked hard to get what she wants; she’s put it all on the line.

And now, on the cusp of it, she doesn’t know how to do it. She doesn’t know how to turn all her dreams into a reality. She doesn’t know how to bring her work to a close, how to make her efforts finally pay off.

After all, it’s still a delicate thing. There’s so much that could go wrong. It’s not just an event, after all. It’s her nonprofit. It’s all of her professional viability. It’s herself. She’s put herself on the line, and if it fails – if she fails.

Suddenly, it’s too much – and she’s not enough. She abandons the phone on the coffee table and walks out of the house on numb legs. The door crashes shut behind her with more force than she intends, but she’s too blind to do anything about it. It’s all she can do to sit on the swing, trying to remember how to breathe.

She tries to remind herself that she’s fine, she’s okay, she knows how to do this. Just breathe, just–

“Kie?”

Shit. She looks up, startled. Her breathing is still entirely erratic, and her vision is hazy around the edges. She’s missed the part where JJ has opened the door. He’s standing there, looking at her, concern written all over his face.

“Kiara?” he says, and he sits next to her before she has a chance to assure him she’s fine. “You okay?”

She finally exhales and closes her eyes, feeling embarrassed. “Yeah,” she says, even though her voice sounds funny and strained. “Just needed a second. Before tomorrow.”

When she opens her eyes, he’s still sitting there. He looks more unconvinced now than ever. “This looks like more than a second,” he says.

It’s not like she can deny it, but she does her best to deflect him anyway. “It’s just a big day,” she says, and when she forces herself to smile, she’s not sure how successful she is. “Nerves, I guess.”

“Or panic attacks,” he says keenly.

She swallows, and her smile falls. “I’m fine,” she says, and at least the genuine exhaustion covers some of her voice. She lets herself exhale again, trying to inhale and find stability. “Really.”

“Yeah,” he says, and the scoff he makes is gentle. “That’s why you’re out here looking like shit.”

She gives him a look, but she knows he’s right.

He backtracks anyway. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re still hot–”

That’s completely not the point she was glaring at him for. “JJ–”

“Kie,” he says, and he shakes his head, sobering. “What’s up? For real?”

She can lie to herself, maybe. She can lie to all her friends.

But she can’t lie to JJ.

Not because she can’t lie to JJ. She’s already held back the truth about his treatment, about the transfusion that saved his life. She’s never once told him about Luke, even though he may deserve to know.

But she can’t lie to JJ. He knows her too well. There’s no point; he can see through her now. “Everything. Tomorrow,” she says, because she doesn’t know how to frame it. She shrugs, feeling helpless with it all. “I just don’t know if I can do it.”

He frowns a bit. “But we already did it,” he says. “Everything’s already done.”

“But it could go wrong,” Kiara says. “What if we’ve put it all in motion and it goes off the tracks?”

“I’ve seen your plans,” he points out. “You have, like, contingencies or some shit.”

He makes it sound so easy, that confidence of his. “But you can’t predict everything. You just can’t.”

Like she couldn’t predict a treasure hunt that would change her life.

Or a cancer diagnosis that would nearly derail everything.

“So, we figure it out,” he says, totally nonplussed. He looks at her and doesn’t waver. “Together.”

His surety breaks her, and she dissolves again. The tears on her cheeks are hot, and she shakes her head. “JJ, you can’t be that sure,” she says, and her voice is starting to hitch again after several moments of self control. “So much is riding on tomorrow. And if I do it wrong – then I tank the nonprofit. And I’ve wasted everyone’s time and money and effort. Your time and money and effort. Shit, JJ, I’ll have wasted all of your faith in me, and I can’t–”

“Hey,” he says, and he reaches up, brushing his fingers over her cheeks and settling his hands on her shoulders until she feels his stillness reverberate through her. “This isn’t about me, okay?”

“But it is about you,” she insists, as her heart thumps in her chest. “It’s about you and the Pogues and my entire cause and my reputation, and I don’t know how – I don’t know–”

She’s crying in earnest now, and she catches herself on a gulping sob before she can stop herself. She chokes on the next one, crumbling in on herself. She thinks she might actually collapse until JJ’s arms are around her, keeping her up.

“Hey, easy,” he coaxes, hands on her back, up and down. “Breathe.”

This is how it is with JJ. She’s never taken orders. She’s never followed directions.

But that’s not what it is with him, is it? He’s not ordering her. He’s not directing her.

He’s supporting her. He’s holding her up. He knows what she needs and he’s filling the gaps until she can do it herself. Until her breathing evens out, until her tears are dry. Until she’s safe and secure, right there in his arms.

“See,” he soothes, stroking her hair as she leaves her head tipped against him. “It’s all going to be okay.”

She breathes for another second, soaking in his comfort, before she finally sits back a little and looks at him once more.

“I mean – aren’t you scared?” she asks, still breathless with the admission. “Doesn’t it all just terrify you?”

Sitting next to her, his hands are still surrounding her own. “I mean, sometimes.”

She searches his face through his floppy bangs, desperate for an answer she can parse. “Then how?” she asks, and she knows how young she sounds. With anyone else, it wouldn’t be palatable, but this kind of vulnerability is okay with JJ. She trusts him, just like he trusts her. “How do you face it?”

“I don’t know,” he says, and he shrugs a little, making a face. “I mean, what’s the alternative?”

“We could not do it,” she suggests, just barely keeping her hysteria in check.

“Nah,” he says. “I mean, that’s not living. We just have to choose if we’ll be scared of everything or scared of nothing. One means I just sit here and don’t do shit. The other means I get to live. And okay, maybe I screw it up. Maybe I make mistakes, a lot of mistakes. But I live.”

His blue eyes are bright and earnest, and she feels her heart swell as she can’t help but believe him.

“After all we’ve been through, Kie,” he says, fingers twitching around hers. “I think we both know the better option.”

It catches in her chest as she tries to breath and doesn’t quite know how. “You make it sound easy.”

He runs a hand up her arm reassuringly. “It’s only because of you,” he says. “I can do anything with you.”

JJ has rebuilt his life, after a traumatic childhood, after a cancer that nearly killed him. JJ is here, a full fledged adult. He’s happy and whole and healthy, mind and body and soul. It’s so easy to see, but sometimes she struggles to believe it.

Sometimes she still feels like she’s 19 in a doctor’s office while her world comes crashing down around her.

“And that’s enough?” she asks.

He reaches his hands up to cup her face. “That’s enough,” he says – he promises. He leans in to kiss her. “I swear to you, Kie. That’s enough.”

-o-

Morning comes, whether Kiara is ready for it or not. There’s no point thinking about if she can pull it off. It simply needs to be done, and she embraces the practical reality of it all with some vigor. Doing it, she decides, is easier than thinking about doing it.

And it’s not like she’s not prepared.

She’s had everything in order for weeks now. Her friends have helped her with the details, and everything is coming together just as predicted. There are no surprises, no hitches.

There’s just a successful conservation event, cleaning up the beaches of the Outer Banks.

The volunteers show up on time and are properly checked in. Local businesses donate water and t-shirts to the cause. Food trucks are on hand to provide food options, and Kiara has people in place to oversee the efforts while she plays point person back in the home tent set up on the boardwalk. People stop by and ask questions; the news outlets are all there.

Even her parents show up, just to volunteer. Things have been better, of course, but there’s still something a little tentative between them. She appreciates that they show up, and she appreciates that they don’t make a big deal out of it. Her mom hugs her and her father tells her he’s proud of her and when Kiara thanks them, it feels like she means it.

It’s a long, hot, busy morning.

It’s also one of the best mornings of her life.

It’s not just a flawless execution.

It’s a successful cleanup project.

The results are evident up and down the beach, and that’s what it’s about, right? Not a successful charity, necessarily. Making an impact on the world, starting right here on the beaches she loves. When the local news crew interviews her for the nightly report, that’s what she’s quick to point out.

“I think we all want a beautiful island, but that’s not something that just happens,” she says. “We have to fight for it; if we don’t fight for the things that matter, then we won’t get what we want.”

Behind the cameraman, JJ is smiling at her, rocking back on his heels like he’s known it all along.

The bastard. He has known it all along.

He’s known her, even before she knew herself.

“Happy endings don’t just happen,” she says, and she’s looking right at JJ while his smile grows. “You have to fight for them, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

JJ nods, almost beaming, so proud it looks like he might burst.

Kiara tries to pull back her smile as she looks back to the anchor with a renewed air of professionalism. “So this is definitely not our last project,” she says. “We have a long way to go, and there’s no way I’m quitting now.”

Not for the Outer Banks, yeah.

Not for JJ, sure.

But mostly not for herself.

“That’s so good to hear,” the news anchor says, voice smooth and calculated as she turns back toward the camera. “And it’s good for the entire island. Water and Light is already make a big impact on our shores, and we’re excited to see what comes next for this local nonprofit and our beautiful island.”

That’s the end of the news story, maybe.

But it’s not the end of the story that really matters.

The one that Kiara is writing for herself now, for the first time ever.

-o-

Kiara is entirely mature and professional the entire time. She's a full-fledged adult as she manages things, and she talks like a pro to the press and other business owners.

When she’s done, however, Kiara reminds herself she is still, in fact, young.

Quite young, in fact.

Young enough that when JJ suggests they party, she readily agrees.

They haven’t planned anything, but it doesn’t matter. They buy some beer and take it back to the Chateau, just like always. It doesn’t take long before they’re buzzed and excited, whooping loud enough that she’s sure they can be heard down on the marsh.

And she doesn’t care at all.

Because she did it.

She actually did it.

“Look, look, look,” JJ says, and he’s teetering on being full-out drunk now, words starting to slur as John B laughs and keeps him propped up on his feet.

Pope and Cleo are already half passed out in the hammock, and Sarah is grinning on the other side of John B.

“I propose a toast,” he says, lifting his beer can above his head with questionable coordination. “To Kiara.”

John B follows suit, lifting his own beer and sloshing some of it over the side. “To Kiara.”

Sarah chirps in agreement, “To Kiara!”

From the hammock, Pope grunts and Cleo laughs.

Kiara reddens in the face. “It’s about the cause.”

“I know,” JJ says, and he sounds vaguely insulted that she’s insinuated otherwise. “But you’re the one who did the work. The cause is better because of you.”

“Because of us,” she corrects.

But JJ shakes his head, adamant. “We rallied for you,” he says. “The whole damn island rallied for you.”

“All of them,” John B agrees.

“The ones with a conscience, anyway,” Sarah says. She wrinkles her nose. “I didn’t see Rafe there.”

This elicits laughs all around, and JJ has to work extra hard to get himself together enough to continue.

It only kind of works. His expression goes watery as the beer gets the better of him. Ever since cancer, he hasn’t had the stamina he used to have. It’s made him soft, he complains.

It’s made him better, she knows.

“Shit, Kiara. Seeing you out there today, doing your thing. I love you so, so much,” he says. He shakes his head, almost looking at her in wonder. “I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

John B actually cries at that, proving that he’s holding his beer worse than JJ is. Sarah snorts, and it’s not clear if it’s a sob or a laugh.

Whatever. It’s a real thing.

They see her.

JJ sees her.

And Kiara finally sees herself.

“Whatever,” she says, and she holds up her own beer. “To me!”

“To Kiara!” they all echo and slam their cans together before they drink one more time.

Chapter Text

-o-

CHAPTER TEN

-o-

JJ is more than a little past his prime by the time Kiara drags him home. It’s not an easy task. He ends up sobbing, clinging to John B and telling him how much he loves him, and then John B falls back on him until they’re a mess of limbs that Kiara and Sarah have to pull apart.

“He’s my best friend,” JJ tells her earnestly as she leads him to the car. “Like, I love him.”

“I know,” she says, striving for patience.

His eyes widen. “Not like I love you,” he slurs, as if he needs to clarify. “You’re my wife, did you know that? Like way out of my league.”

She rolls her eyes and huffs as his legs only do a so-so job of keeping him up. “You’re drunk enough that I won’t argue that with you now.”

He nods, tripping over his feet. “I’m so proud of you,” he says. “Kie, I’m so, so proud of you.”

“You said that before,” she reminds him, pulling him to a stop in front of the car. “Back when you weren’t drunk.”

He straightens a bit, but his eyes are still hooded from the alcohol. “I’d be dead without you,” he says solemnly, and this time she feels a chill run down her spine.

“What?” she says.

“John B would have buried me if not for you,” he says. “I think about that sometimes, that you get every breath, every heartbeat. You get all of it, Kie.”

It’s not news, exactly. It’s not even something JJ hasn’t said before, in so many ways.

But there’s something so raw in his confession. With his defenses down, there’s something unabashed about it. That even now, years later, JJ feels beholden to her.

It reminds her that Luke was right; if JJ knew where the bone marrow came from – it would have messed everything up.

Because Kiara has a hard enough time reminding JJ they’re equals.

With Luke? With the power dynamic of an abusive father and a battered son?

She couldn’t imagine.

It feels like a lot, sometimes, keeping him together.

She knows it’s more for him, keeping himself from falling apart.

“JJ,” she says, and she’s not sure what else to say. What else to do.

Not when he’s looking at her like that.

Not when he’s holding himself out to her, opening himself up to her. Not when he’s so completely hers that it’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

“And I do love John B,” JJ says, nodding again. He turns back around, nearly knocking himself over in the process. “I love you, John B!”

From the porch, where Sarah and John B are stumbling into the Chateau, John B turns around with a wide smile and waves. “I love you, too, JJ!”

John B doesn’t fall, taking out Sarah in the process, and it’s all Kiara can do to haul JJ’s drunk ass into the car, buckle him in, and drive him home.

-o-

Once JJ is in the car, it’s easier. He almost immediately falls asleep, half passed out with his face smushed up against the window. Getting him inside is a bit of a chore, but while he’s bigger, heavier, and uncoordinated in his current state, he’s not uncooperative. If anything, JJ is still eager to please her and does his best to comply when she tells him to move and step, and it’s not too much work to get him inside.

It’s still enough work that she decides the couch will do, and she deposits him there instead of dragging him back to the bedroom. He collapses gratefully to it, and blinks up at her with an appreciative and adoring smile.

“You’re so amazing, Kie,” he says to her.

She huffs, sitting on the coffee table and smoothing his hair back from his face. “You’re so drunk, JJ.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “You’re still amazing when I’m sober.”

She chuckles. “You’re incorrigible, too.”

He doesn’t seem to hear her. He just shakes his head, brow furrowing. “Like, I saw you out there today,” he says. “Doing your charity shit. Taking charge. Saving the world.”

Her throat tightens a little. JJ tells her often how much he loves her.

But this kind of specificity matters.

But he doesn’t just love her as his wife.

He loves her as her.

He’s seen her all along, and he’s never lost sight of who she was. That’s a rare thing, she decides. It’s the kind of thing that only comes around once in a lifetime.

And it’s hers.

Right here, with JJ, it’s absolutely hers.

“I just kept thinking, this is your time,” he continues, and his words are still slurred and the fact that he won’t remember this in the morning only makes it more telling. “This is your time, Kie. I’m so excited to watch you shine.”

She leans down, unable to stop herself, and she kisses him. She feels him respond, kissing her back, and all the emotions swell. From the perfect day to her perfect friends to her perfect, perfect husband.

When she pulls back, he settles back to the couch with a sigh, and when his eyes close, she knows that’s it. Within seconds, his breathing has started to even out, and he needs to sleep this off. She sighs, too, and wonders briefly about getting him to the bed.

But he looks comfortable here, and he looks peaceful – and he’s also bigger and heavier and completely out of it now. The couch will have to do.

She snags one of the blankets from the chair and drapes it over him. He mumbles something in his sleep as she tucks him in, letting her fingers trace through his hair as he mutters nonsense and exhales heavily, slipping back to oblivion.

It’s silly, probably. JJ doesn’t need her to stay; he doesn’t even know she’s here. But it’s still something she remembers; there’s part of her that will never forget it. She’s protective over him with an intensity she doesn’t always understand, but he’s been pulling it out of her ever since he first broke down in a hot tub and she saw just how hard he worked to hold himself together for the world day after day.

It’s different now. JJ’s not the same broken boy he once was. He’s not beaten and abused, and he’s conquered cancer and gotten his life together. By all accounts, JJ is strong and independent and fully capable.

But he’s still hers in a way that tugs at her heart, and she can’t help it probably. If anything, his love and devotion only make her need to protect him stronger than ever. She can’t fully explain it, but she knows she could never live without him.

She will do anything for him.

If only because he did it for her first.

Even now, with the cancer far behind them, it’s reassuring to sit there and watch him breathe. She can’t take it for granted, each breath, each beat of his heart. He’s given it all to her.

She never thought she’d get here.

But JJ, she thinks, has known all along.

What it means to survive.

What it means to thrive.

What it means, in the end, to live.

-o-

JJ passes out and doesn’t wake up the whole night. She keeps a trash can by the couch just in case, but he’s out like a light and doesn’t so much as twitch until sunlight the next morning. Kiara is good at keeping vigil, but she’s not silly about it. There’s a lot of time to kill, and her phone has all but blown up with congratulations and inquiries after her event.

Several businesses are interested in her next project.

A few other local organizations are curious about partnerships.

She has several requests for interviews with a few of the mainland news providers.

She spends most of her night replying to everything,

To call it a success is a vast simplification.

To call it the first step in the rest of her life probably doesn’t do it justice.

JJ sleeps it off.

And Kiara starts moving forward.

They’ll both be ready for anything in the morning.

-o-

Ready is perhaps an ambitious take on things. Kiara is ready for anything.

JJ will be ready.

He has to recover from his massive hangover first.

It takes him a while to roll off the couch, and when he finally does get to his feet, he’s sluggish at best. His complexion is peaky, and he doesn’t throw up, but he clearly isn’t up for much of anything. Kiara watches him with a bemused sort of smile. She doesn’t like to see him in discomfort, sure, but this is the right kind of torture for him.

The kind he’s solely responsible for.

And the kind that will go away on its own within a few hours.

They’re just far enough removed from his cancer that she can let this be a lesson to him. “You need to be smarter,” she lectures him gently from her spot at the kitchen table. She’s nursing a cup of coffee and eating a banana while scrolling her news feed on her phone. He’s staggered into the kitchen after much ado, pausing to brace himself on the counter. “You’re not as young as you used to be.”

He scowls at her, but there’s not much vigor behind it. He’s too hungover, and he probably loves her too much to be mad about it. “Did you just call me old?” he quips.

It makes her smirk, but she doesn’t outright deny it. “I just meant you’re not a kid anymore.”

He sighs, sitting heavily in the chair and slumping down with his face propped up on his hand. “Point taken,” he mumbles. He pinches his eyes shut with a groan. “You should have stopped me.”

She gives him a little look before getting up and pouring him a cup of coffee. She puts it in front of him with a smirk. “Well, you did go out faster than I expected.”

JJ groans, ignoring the coffee with some conviction. “So, I am old,” he says with an over-dramatic flair.

She chuckles, despite everything, as she settles back down in her own seat. “You said it, not me.”

He makes a small, mewling noise, before peeking at her from behind his unruly bangs. “I’m sorry.”

He sounds so sincere that she’s surprised. “Why?”

He moves slightly, adjusting it so he’s looking at her more fully. “This – I mean. It was all about you,” he says with a small, helpless gesture. “I wanted it to be all about you.”

His sincerity doesn’t surprise her, but the answer is still inexplicable to her. She’s not following the logic. “But it was, and it was very sweet,” she says, and she’s not just assuring him. She’s telling the truth. “I mean, the whole day. You all came out to help me, no questions asked. And the party. It meant a lot, JJ.”

It means everything, if she’s honest.

To have people love her and accept her for who she is. To have a family that supports her and her goals. To have a husband there to help her build her future on her terms.

If that’s not a fairy tale, then Kiara’s not sure what is.

JJ, though, can’t seem to see it. She’d blame the hangover if she could. But she knows JJ well enough to know that his self esteem is still in need of some work, even after years of therapy.

“Sure, until I got blackout drunk,” he says with more than a hint of self-loathing.

She concedes the point just enough. “That wasn’t a highlight, sure.”

He looks at her, utterly miserable. “I didn’t do anything dumb, did I?”

She lifts an eyebrow with sufficient provocation, just enough to drive him crazy. “Well, you did declare your love for John B across the marsh.”

He reddens in the face, breathing hard through his nose. “I did not.”

She makes a face, plaintive and simple. “Pretty sure you did. And all the neighbors can probably verify that.”

The blush moves all the way, reddening the tips of his ears.

And she can’t hold out any longer. She likes being smug, but she’s terribly soft on him anymore. “It’s okay,” she assures him, more gently now. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen or heard before. The whole island knows it.”

He sighs, clearly miserable. “Oh shit,” he mumbles, scrubbing his hand over his face again while he shakes his head. “I’m so sorry.”

“JJ, it’s not a big deal–”

“It is,” he says, looking at her fully now. “Yesterday was about you, and I went and made a spectacle of myself instead.”

He’s not wrong, is the thing. But he’s also sort of missing the point. They’re getting too old for this shit, messing around like they’re kids. Kiara would have thought emancipation would force her to grow up – but she knows it’s not true. JJ’s cancer put it in stark relief, just how much she needed to get her shit together. She had thought she was ready for anything. The second JJ was diagnosed, she was faced with the difficult truth of just how ill prepared she was.

So, yeah, getting shit-faced is kind of dumb and JJ probably does know better.

But not for her. He has nothing to prove to her, and it’s not about making her happy. It’s about them and who they want to be together. It’s about the future they’re building.

“JJ, I know you think you did this for me, but it’s never been about that,” she says. “It’s always been about us. Your success is my success. My success is your success.”

“I know,” he says, and he looks at her, eyes a little pleading now. “I was just so proud of you.”

Something pulls in his voice and lands like a punch in her gut. That he’s proud of her. That he looks at her and sees everything beautiful and good – and not the terrified mess she is. As if he doesn’t know that she only did it because of him.

She reaches across the table and takes his hand in hers. “Proud enough to get drunk off your ass, I know,” she quips lightly.

He slumps back down, even more miserable than before. “When you say it like that, it’s so bad.”

Kiara has to chuckle. “But it’s not,” she says. “You haven’t been drunk in forever. I haven’t seen you that smashed since–”

She falters, and the words fall hard as her smile drops.

His eyes meet hers again, and he’s painfully sober now.

He doesn’t say it, though.

He hasn’t been that drunk since before he almost died.

So she doesn’t either.

She swallows it back and draws herself up, prim and proper with a forced air of surety as she pulls her hand back and drums her fingers absently on the table for a second. “It’s been a long time,” she says finally. “So, whatever. I saw you let go yesterday. I saw you live with nothing held back. And that, JJ? That was good.”

He’s exhausted and sick – and probably a little confused. “So, wait,” he says, trying to make it parse. “You’re glad I got drunk?”

Now she has to roll her eyes. She loves her boy, but he can be dense sometimes. Therapy has made him more self aware, this much is true, but apparently making the obvious connections while hungover is a bit much to ask of him right now. “I wouldn’t go that far,” she says. “I’m just saying I’m glad you’re alive, JJ. Being alive means being stupid. It means making mistakes and embarrassing the shit out of yourself. And you know what? It’s just good to see it. It’s good to feel it. That’s what I'm trying to say: I’m so glad you’re alive.”

She’s explained it in a way that makes sense, and she sees the pieces fall into place for him as he sits back a little. The color, which had been drained from his face, starts to flush again. But healthy this time; not embarrassed. “Well, I’m glad I’m alive, too,” he says, starting to smile just a little. “Otherwise I would have missed seeing just how freakin’ amazing you are. I mean, I always knew you were special, Kie. But to see you becoming the woman you’re meant to be? With a front-row seat no less? Is pretty kick ass.”

Normally, she might demur.

But honestly, she doesn’t want to.

All things considered, she still feels pretty good about yesterday. No, she feels amazing about yesterday. She had a lot of help, and she knows it. But she also knows she did it, too. She really did.

“Yeah,” she says, nodding in agreement as she lets herself grin. “I am pretty awesome.”

He huffs lightly, running his hand through his hair as he continues to collect his hungover wits about him. “And so humble, too.”

“Well, humility is for thank you speeches,” she says candidly. “I have to move this forward, so a little confidence is needed.”

“And deserved,” he says, and he finally picks up the coffee. He winces as he sniffs it. “I mean, the event was a complete success, Kie. I bet you’ve already got offers.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing while you slept it off?” she says. She nods at her phone, lying on the table. “I’ve been fielding partnership requests, sponsorship offers, fundraising invitations. I kind of have the pick of whatever I want right now.”

He takes a sip, slow and with clear trepidation. It seems to take him some effort to swallow, as he forces himself to take the caffeine down. “And you have to strike while that iron is hot,” he says. “Now’s your chance.”

“I know,” she says, and she can’t control her grin now. “I mean, if I do this right, I’ll take the nonprofit off the ground. If I can get fully established–”

“Then the sky’s the limit,” he concludes for her. He still looks sickly, but he musters up a smile. “You’re going to do it, Kie. I know you are.”

And he believes in her. He always has; he’s always seen it.

She sees it now, too.

It makes her love him even more.

“It’s all thanks to you, you know,” she says.

“Hey,” he protests. Slurping down another gulp of coffee. “Humility is for thank you speeches.”

“But gratitude is for relationships,” she says steadily. “JJ, you believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. You are the reason I was able to do this.”

“I just showed you what was there,” he counters. “You did it all.”

“JJ, I’m serious,” she says.

“So am I–”

“JJ,” she says, and she’s forceful enough to stop him, to make him listen. He sits there, pale and coffee in hand, and she waits until he looks at her and only her. “I couldn’t have done this alone.”

For a moment, he’s quiet, taking it in. Something trembles in his countenance, like he might want to disagree. But he inhales, and he swallows. Finally, he just nods. “Well,” he says. “I guess it’s a good thing you don’t have to. Neither of us do.”

It’s a good answer.

Really, it’s the only answer.

And now she’s grinning again, wider and more sure than ever. “Yeah,” she agrees. “I guess it’s a really good thing.”

He takes another sip of coffee now, louder and more obnoxious than ever. “Holy shit,” he says. “I feel like this is burning through my stomach lining.”

“That’s probably the alcohol from yesterday that you’re still digesting,” she offers.

He takes another drink, almost desperately. “Do we have something stronger?”

“Tylenol?” she offers.

“I was thinking maybe something more herbal–”

“Right, since getting high is the best cure for a hangover,” she says.

“If it works–”

“It doesn’t,” she quickly cuts him off.

He moans. “Kiara, why are you trying to kill me!”

“I’ll get the Tylenol,” she says, getting to her feet. She tousles his hair as she passes. “Try not to die before I get back.”

He grunts after her. “No promises!”

-o-

JJ nurses his hangover for a good portion of the day. He drinks the coffee and pops the Tylenol before taking a long, hot shower and sluggishly attempting some housework before giving up and taking a nap on the couch.

It’s fine. JJ can take the day for himself.

Kiara has plenty to do to fill her time. She replies to the emails. She responds to the texts. She starts making the call backs.

JJ has given her every beat of his heart, every breath in his lungs, and she’s not going to squander that.

It’s tempting at first to think that the event was her end goal.

But that’s never been the case.

As hard as she worked to get there, that event? Is just the starting point.

For bigger, for better, for more.

Kiara is going to leverage this momentum, she’s going to expand her plans, and solidify her nonprofit.

The future isn’t just JJ’s after all. It’s hers.

And she’s ready to seize it.

-o-

Now that she knows what she wants, it’s just a matter of making it happen. She has the means, resources, support, and finally the willpower. With all that, things come together pretty quickly.

Suddenly, this goes from a backburner idea to a full-time job. It consumes most of her days – and in the best way possible. She gets to wake up every morning and do exactly what she loves. She’s living her dream.

She’s being herself.

She didn’t think she’d get here, but JJ?

JJ had known it all along.

It seems like falling in love with someone is about seeing the best in them.

When you commit to them, you commit to making sure they see it in themselves, too. That’s a two-way street, when she gets right down to it. It took her long enough to figure it out.

The momentum after the event only builds. She gets inquiries about potential partnerships, and sets up meetings with a handful of local businesses, charities, and organizations. As a true sign of her success, other groups reach out, asking her about hosting more events. All of a sudden, her calendar is full, her volunteer roster is robust, and the donations are coming in.

It’s not about success, necessarily.

It’s about doing what matters.

It’s about living your dream.

It’s about finding who you are and never letting go.

-o-

To say Kiara is busy is an understatement. She’s busy almost all the time now, and she works nearly as long as JJ does. For his part, JJ hasn’t slowed down either. His business is thriving, and even with the two boats, Cleo and JJ can’t hardly keep up.

When they’re not spending time at work, they’re spending time with their friends – and with each other. The Pogues are still living life to the fullest, and Kiara feels like she’s barely keeping up with it all. In fact, she almost forgets what time of year it is until she hears the boys talking about it outside.

“What? You’re actually nervous?” John B says, and there’s a distinct sound of rustling, like the boys are inevitably roughhousing.

In their 20s, and still children.

“Whatever, man,” JJ retorts. “Nerves are normal.”

Kiara pauses from where she’s working on a grant proposal, typing furiously away on her laptop just inside the kitchen window.

“Right, performance anxiety. Totally normal,” John B says. “Happens to the best of us, dude.”

“Happens to you,” JJ says. “I slept in the spare room enough years when you brought chicks home. I know.”

“You know nothing,” John B and the scuffling starts up again.

Kiara rolls her eyes, ready to get back to work. The last thing she needs is to listen to hyper-masculine posturing about past sexual partners. As if both boys aren’t happily married.

“I’m serious,” JJ says, and he’s breathing a little heavily. “Like, it’s still a big deal.”

The porch creaks a bit, and there’s a sound of grating wood as John B apparently sits down. “It’s going to be fine.”

“We don’t know that,” JJ says. “I mean, the odds for this shit are still real. It comes back. Cancer already came back once; it could come back again.”

Just like that, Kiara freezes. It’s like ice going down her spine, and for a second, her entire world tunnels. That’s not what she thought they were talking about.

She looks at the date, and she’s amazed it’s slipped her mind. JJ’s yearly oncology appointment is next week.

“Nah,” John B says, a little too flippant as Kiara’s stomach starts to do somersaults. “How many years has it been?”

Kiara knows the answer – feels the answer – before JJ forms the words. “Three years,” he says. “It’s been three years.”

Since his remission.

Since his bone marrow transplant.

Since he nearly died.

She shudders again, and tries to remember how to swallow, in some desperate bid to regain her self control.

“Dude, you aren’t really going to talk to me about odds,” John B says.

JJ is quiet, but she can see him struggle with the question.

There’s another sound, and she imagines John B has shoved JJ a little. “You already beat it once when the odds were shit,” he says.

“Yeah,” JJ says, but he sounds a lot less convinced than he does when he’s talking to Kiara. “But the odds are that most kids won’t get cancer. And I pulled that card.”

“You pulled it and you defied it,” John B says, almost like he’s insisting now. “You got a shitty hand all the time, and you still made something of yourself. So I’m not worried.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” JJ says, sounding just a little mollified.

“Of course I’m right,” John B says effusively. “You should never doubt me, dude.”

“Doubt you? I could take you,” JJ says, for no reason at all, and the sounds of a scuffle ensue again. There’s a yelp and a thump, and the two boys thrash around for no reason at all.

Kiara sits there, staring at her screen, listening to it.

She looks at the date on her calendar, and can’t believe she’s forgotten.

How the hell has she forgotten?

-o-

Getting back to work is hard, and going about the rest of her day is nearly impossible. She’s a mess by the time JJ comes inside later, and she’s weird and quiet all through dinner. They make it until bedtime before JJ calls her on it, and asks what the hell is wrong.

“Nothing,” she says, but immediately regrets it. She will keep some secrets – yes. But she can’t keep this one. “I just forgot about the appointment.”

She doesn’t need to clarify. She doesn’t need to explain. Sitting next to her on the bed, JJ is quiet. “Oh,” is all he says.

She sighs, making it a big deal. “We’ve just been so busy. I guess it slipped my mind.”

“I mean, that’s okay,” JJ says. “You don’t even need to go, if you don’t want–”

Her eyes widen, and her heart skips a beat. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I mean, you really don’t,” JJ says. “I can handle this.”

She shakes her head. “JJ, that’s not what I meant.”

He blinks at her, clearly not sure what to say. She doesn’t know how he does that, still. He can still make himself look like he’s four with his wide, perfect, blue eyes.

So, Kiara gathers a breath and finds some semblance of calm. “I just can’t believe we’ve gotten to this point.”

“They say the first five years–”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “The point where sometimes we forget. Where sometimes we don’t live with the constant reminder of cancer.”

JJ is still looking at her, wholly open and trusting and shit, she loves him.

“Where we just live,” she says softly, because that’s what it is. That’s what’s been different for her in the last few months. She’s been living.

She’s been alive.

“I never wanted to hold you back,” JJ says. “So, you don’t have to come, Kie.”

She reaches out, taking his hand in hers. “You’re the reason I got here,” she says. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

It doesn’t take as much as it used to, to get him to surrender. Maybe he has less to hide. Maybe he’s matured.

Maybe he just finally knows what real love is, and he finally believes that he deserves it.

Maybe when he signed that paper, all those years ago, trusting her with his life, he meant it for always.

He hesitates, though. Not about her. But he hesitates.

“Kie, what if it’s back?” he says softly.

Her fingers tighten around his. The fear he put back for John B’s sake. The fear she’s felt since she realized the date.

There are times for easy assurances. There are moments for bold proclamations.

And sometimes, it’s just time for the truth.

“I don’t know,” she replies, and all she can do is shrug. “But you won’t face it alone, okay? You’ll never face it alone.”

-o-

The next week is a little hard, if she’s honest. As the date approaches, her nerves ratchet up. JJ gets wiry and restless, full of energy he doesn’t know how to handle. It’s no wonder all his teachers said he had ADHD; JJ’s anxiety needed some way to manifest itself.

The day before, they’re both snippy and short, and neither of them sleep at all. They have angry sex because they’re mad at the world – not each other – and when they can scream into the dark, it seems to be some outlet, at least.

It doesn’t change the fact that morning comes, and JJ’s appointment comes due.

At the hospital, JJ goes through the tests with the same alacrity he always does, and he fills the vials of blood with his typical obedience. He can still charm the nurses, and Kiara still rolls her eyes, but when Dr. O’Brien calls them in, JJ still can’t sit still and Kiara’s gripping the edge of her seat with white knuckles.

They’re both braced for the worst, no matter what they say otherwise.

But Dr. O’Brien smiles. He tells them it’s good. It’s all good news.

The bloodwork is good, like it has been since the transplant; it’s always great anymore. Dr. O’Brien raves about it, says JJ’s a textbook case for the power of bone marrow. The guy wants to write a paper about JJ and JJ demurs, both embarrassed and pleased.

And indifferent, really. As long as it’s working, the doctor can do anything he damn well pleases.

“Get me through another year, doc,” he jokes. “Then, we’ll talk.”

Kiara wants another year.

She wants all the years.

If this guy can give her that, he can write anything he damn well pleases.

-o-

Every year, JJ goes to get his checkup.

And every year, when his tests come back clean, they plan a party.

John B did it the first year, spur of the moment. The second year, it was more of a planned affair. This year, however, JJ insists that he’s going to plan it.

By himself.

John B protests a little, but he’s a damn pushover where JJ is concerned these days. Kiara is supportive of taking it over, but when she tries to help, JJ rebuffs her, too.

“It’s no big deal,” she says. “I can just get a few things ready–”

He shakes his head, insistent. “You did everything for me while I was sick–”

“Because you were sick!” she reminds him.

“And now I’m not,” he replies. And he sounds different now. Decided. “So, let me do it now. Let me do it for all of you.”

He’s alive.

He’s happy.

So what is Kiara going to argue about anyway?

-o-

In the end, JJ doesn’t need help planning the party. Is it missing some of the flourishes John B and Sarah would think up? Sure. Would Kiara have done it differently? Probably.

But it doesn’t matter. They may be rich and full-grown adults now, but they still party like they’re idiot teenagers from the Cut. JJ invests in shitty beer and builds a bonfire before firing up the Cat’s Ass Jr.

And not a single person is disappointed by it.

JJ skips the grill and orders pizza, and they set marshmallows on fire and eat them charred and sticky. They laugh at the same jokes they always tell, and they recite the same stories they know by heart. They talk about John B and Sarah with their ridiculous first date. They talk about the beautiful irony of seeing Topper’s boat sink, all consequences be damned. They talk about the well on the Crane property and driving away thinking they’d go full Kook in the end.

It hadn’t worked out how they thought, sure.

The Royal Merchant gold is gone. Big John is dead, and JJ almost died from cancer.

But maybe – just maybe – it’s worked out better.

Maybe it’s worked out just the way it’s always been meant to work.

“Look,” JJ says because this is all much ado about something, and he’s accepted it now. He’s accepted them as his family, and all that entails. “I know this probably gets old.”

“I should have known you’d milk it,” John B jokes. “Still playing the cancer card three years later.”

JJ flushes red. “But–”

“Always the center of attention,” Sarah says with a nod of agreement. “It really is incorrigible.”

“You can’t outgrow some stuff, I guess,” Pope mocks him. “So much for deny, deny, deny.”

“Hey,” JJ protests, the blush creeping up his ears now. “That’s not fair–”

Kiara laughs, unwilling to offer him any backup for now. She can’t tolerate his suffering, this is true. But she’s far enough removed to recognize the difference between suffering and discomfort – it’s healthy for him to be able to joke about it. It’s healthy for all of them.

“I just think we all know the speech by now,” Cleo says, grinning while she ribs him even more. She’s all but smirking. “You’re so grateful. You couldn’t do it without us. You owe us your life.”

“Okay!” JJ says, and he’s entirely red now, even as he grins. “But, like, what else do you want me to say? I’m here because you assholes love me and I don’t know how to say thank you for that. I feel like I’m going to spend the rest of my life just telling you, and I just – I need you to let me do that, okay?”

The emotion is besting him, well and truly at this point, and he’s just this side of crying. He manages a gulping breath, but his words are failing him, and just as he’s ready to fall apart, John B steps up.

“Always so needy, bro,” he jokes as he offers JJ a hug. “Even three years later.”

JJ accepts the hug gratefully, burying his face in John B’s shoulder. John B pulls him closer, and Pope can’t help himself. He throws himself on top. Sarah isn’t far behind, and Cleo, too, and Kiara watches for a moment, overwhelmed just by watching. All JJ has ever wanted was to be loved.

He is.

He really is.

She joins the hug last, so grateful for all of them. For being JJ’s family. For being her family.

There’s no sense of time in something like this, and when they finally break apart, they’re all crying. JJ sniffles the loudest, hastily wiping his nose and failing to clear his cheeks of the tears. “I know this shit is getting old.”

Kiara shakes her head, indifferent to her own tears. “You being alive never gets old.”

“I can drink to that,” Cleo says, and she picks up her beer from the nearby bench.

John B snags his, too. “I will drink to that.”

Pope grabs his, and Kiara grabs hers and JJ’s. “To JJ,” he says, holding his beer aloft and waits for the rest to follow. “For being alive.”

“To JJ,” they all echo back, tapping their cans together and drinking while JJ blushes furiously.

“But this is my toast!” he protests.

“Then say thank you and drink, asshole,” John B smirks.

JJ knows when he’s beat, and he finally shakes his head with a grin. “Okay, okay,” he says. “Thank you.”

They all drink again, chugging back their beers with gusto. It’s only when they’re done that Kiara realizes Sarah hasn’t had a sip. In fact, she doesn’t even have a can. Kiara thinks it’s weird, but JJ thinks it’s outlandish. He retrieves a fresh one from the cooler and holds it out.

“Here,” he says. “You’re far too sober for this level of emotion.”

Sarah demurs, and there’s something different about it. There’s something different about her, honestly, and Kiara can’t put her finger on it. She’s noticed the change, small and nearly imperceptible over the last few weeks, suddenly coming to a head.

“No,” she says. “I’m fine.”

“I haven’t seen you drink one all night,” JJ protests. “You’re making me feel like a shitty host. Did I buy the wrong kind?”

“No,” Sarah says, too quickly.

And it clicks. The weird behavior. The emotions. The aversion to food and a doctor’s appointment.

Kiara glances at John B to confirm her suspicions, but he has gone scarlet.

JJ, though, seems oblivious. “So, what? You’re sober by choice? At a party?”

He sounds incredulous, but Kiara can tell from the look on Sarah’s face that it’s legit. It’s the real deal. The last few weeks, tonight. There’s just one explanation.

“Well, yeah,” Sarah says, and she smiles now, making eye contact with John B. John B looks so red it’s like he’s going to burst. Pope’s eyes are wide, and Cleo is grinning.

“Sobriety is way overrated,” JJ orates grandly, still missing the obvious signs.

“I mean, for me, yes,” Sarah says, and then she tilts her head. “For the baby–”

She says it, easy like that. Quiet, like it’s nothing.

Like it’s not everything.

Because–

Kiara’s mind skips, tracking back to that detail. She knows, she gets it, she’s already figured it out, but–

To have it said,

Too make it real.

Pope and Cleo have gone quiet, too, and JJ stands dumbly, beer still in his outstretched hand. “What?”

John B can’t contain himself a second longer. “We’re having a baby!”

On some level, this news isn’t surprising. John B and Sarah have been in love since they were 16; they’re married and happily so. They’re clearly having lots of good sex, because, well clearly. The idea of a family is surely on their minds. Kiara knows them both well. Sarah’s got strong maternal instincts, and John B is kind and gentle and great with kids.

So, it’s not like it doesn’t make sense. She’s always known those two would be great parents.

Someday.

She just hadn’t thought of it as today.

She hasn’t thought of it as now.

She’s still standing in shock, while Sarah reddens, even as her smile grows. “I didn’t want to steal the moment,” she says, and she takes JJ by the hands. “I lectured John B all day about keeping his mouth shut, and I’m the one who spoils it!”

Pope looks like he no longer understands the English language, while Cleo is wide-eyed. It’s JJ who recovers first, the look on his face nothing short of pure joy.

“Spoils it? Shit, Sarah,” he says, and he reaches out to hug her with gentle care, rubbing a hand down her back. “This is the best news ever!”

Sarah giggles – giddy and relieved – into the hug, and JJ pulls away. His eyes are wet as he turns to John B.

“And what the hell, dude? Why didn’t you tell me immediately–”

“Well, like Sarah said–” John B starts.

And JJ’s not even close to listening. “I’m going to be an uncle!” he says, roughly grabbing him and thumping him soundly. “I’m going to be an uncle!”

When he pulls back again, JJ proceeds to hug everyone, until they’re all whooping and laughing and crying and so on.

Because there’s six Pogues tonight.

And the promise of seven is everything.

-o-

With the news, the party takes a different sort of turn, and they end up talking about baby plans and nurseries and baby showers. JJ’s the one who refuses to change the topic, and he alternates between crying and laughing all night long.

Even when everyone is finally gone for the night and they’ve picked up the yard, JJ can’t seem to stop talking about it.

“Like, isn’t it crazy?” he asks, bagging up the last bit of trash.

Kiara is collecting the last of the recyclables. “It’s a big change.”

“It’s a great change,” JJ enthuses. “A baby!”

“Babies are a lot of work,” she reminds him.

JJ makes a small sound in the night, just slightly dismissive. “So is everything that’s worth shit,” he says. “You all taught me that. Not to take the easy way out.”

“I know, but it’s different,” she says, and she’s not sure why she’s cautioning him.

Except maybe she is.

Because she can see it in JJ’s face.

The idea of it.

Parenthood.

“It changes everything. Your job, your commitments, your social life,” she says. “You give up a lot to have a kid.”

He looks at her in the darkness, the faint party lights across the yard still illuminating him in the shadows. “Sure, that’s the point, right? The kid comes first?”

She stops herself from replying, because she hears what he’s not saying. JJ doesn’t know shit about good parents. He’s never had one, not once in his life. His mother abandoned him for drugs. His father beat him senseless. Even Big John, who served as JJ’s surrogate father for a time, was too permissive and absent more often than not.

JJ can only define good parenting by what he didn’t have.

What he wishes he had.

“Of course,” she says. And then, she adds, “John B and Sarah are going to be great. But it will change things.”

He’s quiet for a moment as he considers that. He seems to consider her, too.

He’s not dumb or unobservant.

He knows her as well as she knows him.

“Sure, but being an uncle will be the best, right? We get to have all the fun and none of the responsibility,” he says, and she can tell he’s lightening the mood. He’s not saying what they’re both thinking.

First, John B and Sarah.

And next, them.

But they’re still newlyweds. The business is still getting established. Kiara doesn’t even know what she wants to do with her life.

If she’s not ready to operate her own nonprofit, then how the hell is she ready to raise a child?

JJ won’t say it, and she’s not sure if that’s for her sake or his own, though she’s starting to suspect. Which is all the more reason to take the out now, while it’s still here. JJ’s not making her decide; she can take her time.

“You’re going to spoil that kid, aren’t you?” she says.

He grins, unabashed and full. “I’m going to teach him so much shit.”

“Or her,” Kiara says.

“Hell, yeah. Or her,” JJ says. He gets quiet, though, and his smile falters. “You’re going to be a good aunt, too, you know.”

It’s so gentle that she can’t mistake it. It’s not a presumption. It’s not some gender-roles game. It makes her heart flutter a little. “You think?”

He reaches out and kisses her. “I know,” he murmurs, voice soft against her skin as he nuzzles her for a moment. “Now, we have to get this shit picked up.”

She groans. “Do we have to?”

“You’re the one who is all against littering,” he reminds her, picking up the bag of trash again to remove it.

She follows suit, picking up the last of the recyclables. “I know, I know.”

-o-

First things first, Kiara decides.

First, they have to pick up the yard.

Next, she had to take care of business.

Her business, yes. And JJ’s.

In the days and weeks that follow, the nonprofit stays at the forefront of her mind, so much so that she doesn’t have time to consider the possibility of parenthood. In fact, things at the charter are getting so hectic that neither does JJ. Whereas Kiara feels like her situation is coming together, she starts to notice signs that JJ is hitting a speed bump.

It’s not the long hours; he’s always had those. The physical exhaustion is also much the same as it’s always been. But there’s something palpably different now; a weariness that he can’t hide. His smiles aren’t quite as quick and full as they used to be, and his shoulders slump a little more when he thinks no one is looking.

Her stomach twinges – remembering the early signs and symptoms of his sickness – but it feels different. In the end, she finally just asks him.

And, after everything, he just tells her. There was a time when he wouldn’t have; there was a time that vulnerability would have frightened him, but cancer and therapy are apparently vehicles for personal growth.

“It’s Rafe,” he admits, face flushed as he rubs the back of his neck and shakes his head.

Kiara feels like she’s surely misheard. “Rafe? As in Cameron?”

“Rafe as in King of the Kooks,” JJ says. “Apparently, he’s in the charter business now.”

That makes even less sense. “What?”

“Yeah, he opened his own tour,” JJ says glumly. “Tannyhill Tours.”

They’re sitting at the table eating dinner. He’s clearly worn out after a long day, but his sour mood is all Rafe. It’s giving her flashbacks of high school in all the worst ways. “How did you even–” she starts

JJ stares at her. “He set it up next door. Literally. The pier down from us.”

Kiara doesn’t really know what to say. “That’s – something. I mean, he can’t be good at it.”

“No, but he’s got the cash to pay for amenities I don’t have,” JJ says, and his voice is ripe with bitterness. “The asshole is already drawing crowds.”

It’s a mixture of anger and frustration – but she knows it’s ungirded by something more upsetting for JJ. He’s scared, and he hates how scared he is. Because JJ’s spent too much of his life being scared, and Rafe Cameron has never been worth it.

“But why?” Kiara asks, because she can’t undo it but she wants to understand it. That’s the only way to even think about fighting back.

JJ huffs. “Beats me.”

He sounds dejected in that, and Kiara gauges him carefully. Rafe is freaking him out, sure. But they need to keep perspective. She needs to help him keep perspectives.

Because they’re not kids anymore. Rafe’s not the Kook with all the power. They have standing and money and everything they need. Rafe can squawk and play dirty, but it’s not a foregone conclusion anymore that he’s going to win.

“So?” she says, and she shrugs. “How’s your business doing?”

It’s the right question, and she can tell by the way his expression shifts. He blinks a bit, like he’s taken aback – like he’s remembering the point. “I mean, better than ever,” he says, voice low like he almost can’t believe it. His laugh is short and incredulous. “No matter what Rafe does, people still just like us better.”

It’s a relief to hear it – and to hear him know it. “Of course they do,” she says with a renewed confidence. “Because you are better. There’s just no contest.”

He’s okay with being vulnerable with her – this much is true – but he’s clearly struggling to believe her right now. He chews his lower lip, clearly unconvinced. “It just seems weird. I don’t know.”

He shrugs, as if he thinks he can deflect it that way, but she can still feel the uncertainty radiating off him. Rafe is getting under his skin, that much is clear. JJ’s doing his best to keep it in check, but she hasn’t seen him this on edge since Rafe’s meddling in their treasure hunts all those years ago.

They all know who Rafe is. They know what he’s capable of, both in terms of his mindset and his resources. The last few years have brought the Pogues together and helped them grow up. By all accounts, Rafe has had no such growth. If anything – from Sarah’s descriptions of him – he’s gotten worse. Maybe it’s the fact that his father’s dead; maybe it’s the fact that the Cameron legacy is in doubt. Maybe the guy just never got off the drugs.

Maybe some people raised as entitled bastards just never get over it.

She can’t sit here and say he’s not a threat.

Not when he clearly is.

It’s just a question of what his endgame is.

And just how deranged he’s willing to get to realize it.

If JJ is this worried, then it’s not without cause. She shifts, moving her hand to his sympathetically. “Well, just be careful.”

He turns his hand to take hers and offers her a smile. “I always am.”

With a scoff, she rolls her eyes at him. “You’re literally never careful.”

“Hey!” he protests. “I’ve gotten a lot better!”

And it’s true, isn’t it? All these years, all this time, all he’s been through – JJ has gotten so much better. As a teenager, he would have done something stupid by now. He would have flown off the handle or started throwing fists.

She pulls back, smirking as she picks up her utensils again. “You have – but he hasn’t,” she says.

JJ grins back at her. “I guess the dude just needs to get cancer, then.”

“JJ, that’s terrible!” she reprimands him, even though she’s smiling, too.

“Instant maturity,” he says, picking up his fork to start eating.

“You literally nearly died for 18 months,” she points out.

“Okay, so not instant,” he amends.

“We don’t wish terminal diseases on other people,” she reminds him. “Not even Rafe Cameron.”

“I know, I know,” he says with lighthearted exasperation. But his eyes are still twinkling slightly. “But with the wonders of modern medicine, cancer doesn’t have to be terminal. I mean, I am sitting here, living proof–”

She swats at him playfully.

Because sitting there, living proof is really all Kiara needs.

-o-

Rafe’s a lot, but so is everything else. With Water and Light, Kiara runs a few more smaller programs. She starts a youth volunteer program for after-school cleanup on the beach, partnering with one of the local schools. There’s some legal nonsense to work through, but the response is pretty strong, and it’s not long before it’s running successfully.

And her donor list keeps expanding. The more she does, the more credible she is. Her credibility gets her more support, and that’s all good business.

It’s also good for the environment. She’s making a difference by cleaning up the beaches. She’s making the world a better place.

She’d been wrong as a teenager, though. It’s not just the world, not just the air and the light and the water.

It’s the people.

She sees the change in the kids she volunteers with. She sees it in the people who come in to help. She sees it in the people who are just as passionate about this as she is.

And she sees it in herself.

Renew the planet.

Renew the mind.

Renew the soul.

Kiara Carrera is coming to life.

-o-

The thing about being an adult is that there’s a lot to do. In the years since JJ’s been in recovery, she’s had to come to terms with that. Adulthood isn’t about breaking the rules; it’s about making ones that work for you. And now that she’s not managing pills and appointments, she’s managing household budgets, personal schedules, and chores.

Because they have to take care of everything. They have to do the dishes and get the laundry done. They’re the ones grocery shopping and mowing the lawn. There’s no one around for her to balk at about it. Oppositional defiance order doesn’t mean shit when you’re your own boss.

That’s why she’s folding laundry after a long day at work. JJ’s already finished up the dishes, and he’s out on the front porch with John B. They haven’t smoked much since the big pregnancy announcement. Kiara’s not sure if John B’s declining or if JJ’s not asking – or if they’ve both come to terms with the idea of growing up on their own.

Not that adults can’t enjoy a little weed from time to time.

But it’s different now. The responsibility is different.

They’re different.

No one has to say it; no one has to explain it. It’s something they’re all falling into because of course they are. Sarah’s having a baby. John B is going to be a dad. Suddenly, the Pogues aren’t a band of down-on-their-luck kids, fighting against the world.

Suddenly, the Pogues are adults bringing a child into this world.

They don’t want the kid to be a Kook or anything.

But they also don’t want to get the baby high.

And really, it just makes you think, right? It makes you question, it makes you consider. They’ve all learned to be more measured and not take shit for granted when JJ was dying, but this isn’t about dying anymore. It’s about living and what you want that to mean.

For yourself, for everyone around you.

For the next generation.

At least, that’s what it is on a broad scale.

On a smaller scale, it’s about two idiot boys drinking beer on the front porch and contemplating the changes ahead.

“Like do you even know how to change a diaper?” JJ asks. “Like, I’ve picked up dog shit before, you know – with the plastic sack–”

“Well, the baby doesn’t poop in the yard,” John B says.

Kiara smothers a laugh, trying to fold one of JJ’s t-shirts with at least some precision as she works on the coffee table.

“I know,” JJ says, in a way that suggests he may not actually know. “But that’s it, right? How do you even change a diaper?”

Now, John B is quiet for a moment. “I’ve never actually changed one.”

“I have, a few times,” JJ says. “I was babysitting, you know? I was 13? And like, the kid had this shit all over the place, up his back and like whatever. And I didn’t even know what to do.”

“But you got it changed, right?” John B asks, like he’s mildly concerned.

“I am not entirely sure,” JJ says. “I put the kid in the bath, you know. Because it was so gross.”

“I don’t think baths are a standard part of diaper changing–”

“You didn’t see the shit, John B. It got in his hair,” JJ says. “I tried cleaning it up and ran out of wipes, so the bath seemed easier.”

John B seems increasingly unsettled by this. “Did you even get the new diaper on?”

“I don’t know!” JJ says. “Like, I got the kid out of the bath and had him dry or whatever. But like, the diapers. Have these tabs. And like I don’t know which way was which, and it was confusing, man. It was really confusing.”

“Who hired you to babysit anyway?” John B says.

“The Clausens. They lived down the road. You remember them.”

“Oh, he had the mullet, right?” John B remembers.

“And she had, like, the biggest–” JJ says, and Kiara stops to glare at him through the window, even though she knows he can’t see her. It’s no matter, he catches himself. “But I guess that’s a thing that happens, right? With moms?”

“I think so, but every time I try to ask Sarah, she’s either crying or hitting me, and I don’t know,” he says. “But the Clausens, really?”

“It was just the one time; they were in a pinch,” JJ says. “I don’t think they liked how I did, which. The baby was fine. Nothing was wrong with him.”

“Except the shit in his hair,” John B points out. “And a likely incorrectly put-on diaper.”

“Pretty sure parenting is about more than shit and diapers,” JJ retorts, like he knows.

He doesn’t; he doesn’t have any idea. Kiara snorts to herself as she folds a little more.

“And, like, whatever, right? You’re the one having a kid, man,” JJ points.

To that, John B has no response. There’s a moment of silence.

Then, JJ huffs like he can’t believe it. “I still can’t get over how crazy that is,” he says, and she knows he’s smiling. She can hear it in his voice while she sorts socks on the couch. “You’re going to have a kid. You’re going to be a dad.”

“It’s not that hard,” John B says, but he doesn’t sound very convincing.

“Are you kidding?” JJ says, voice pitching somewhat in disbelief. “It’s very hard.”

“But I mean, you figure it out,” John B says, like he’s reasoned it this way in his head already. “You just do what you have to do. The diapers and the whatever – you can figure that out. You just have to love the kid, right? Isn’t that, like, the real heart of it?”

John B’s explanation isn’t bad, actually. To Kiara, it makes sense.

To JJ, though, it is clearly harder to grasp. “That’s harder than you think it is,” he says, and the sense of incredulity in his voice is suddenly heartbreaking.

Because it’s not a given.

Not to JJ.

One parent who abandoned him.

Another who probably should have.

To JJ, parenting must seem like a monumental task.

It makes Kiara stop, socks still in hand.

Outside, she can hear John B stop, too. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter. “I know.”

Because John B knows, too. He knows about a mother he hasn’t seen in 10 years. He knows about a father who put gold ahead of him. Hell, they all do – except Pope. The Pogues don’t exactly have the best of luck with parents.

But that’s not entirely fair. Kiara’s parents had control issues, but they had loved her.

Big John had had issues, but he had loved John B.

Luke – well, he’d loved JJ, too. Even if he forgot how to show it.

JJ’s right, then. Parenting is hard as shit, plain and simple.

“So, you’re not worried about it?” JJ asks, and there’s no malice in the question. There’s no assumption; no judgment. JJ just wants to know, and he’s almost painfully innocent in it. “Screwing the kid up?”

“I mean, maybe,” John B admits. “I know some of the things I don’t want to do, at least.”

“Like?”

“Like ditching the kid for treasure,” John B says, and he pauses, clearly taking a drink. “And probably a few rules would be good.”

“Oh, man, you can’t do that!” JJ exclaims.

“What? Provide healthy boundaries for a developing mind?” John B says.

“I know Sarah’s a Pogue, man, I do, but that’s all Kook,” he quips.

Kiara smothers a laugh, going back to the socks.

“My dad gave me my first beer at 13,” John B says. “He had me playing poker with the guys at 14.”

“And?” JJ says.

“And maybe that’s not the best!” John B says. “I mean, like, is it? Do we want our kids to be like us? Running wild all over this island?”

JJ is quiet as he thinks about it, and Kiara gently places a few more pairs of socks together. “I wouldn’t trade some of it for anything,” he finally says.

It lingers like that, something bittersweet. Some understanding that you didn’t get the good without the bad. All they’d been through got them here. JJ knows better than anyone that sometimes breaking is what helps you heal, sometimes giving up is the only way you move on.

The idea that a baby might not have to go through all that.

That they could do it right is a hard thing to grasp, and it’s the tallest order there is.

“I know,” John B says. “I just – I have to protect this kid, you know? Everything to lose.”

“Nah, man, you won’t lose anything,” JJ says. “And neither will your kid. You and Sarah, you’ve got this. And we’re all here for you, all of us.”

Kiara’s heart swells in her chest. That’s what it is, isn’t it? What it is to be a Pogue?

JJ has always been their heart and soul, and that’s why. That belief, so deep and unshaken, so pure and untainted by anything else. JJ believes that, even when JJ doesn’t believe anything else.

That’s enough, sometimes.

That’s just enough.

“I know, man,” John B says, his voice soft on the air. “I know.”

-o-

Sometimes, Kiara can’t help it. Sometimes, she kisses JJ before he goes to work. Sometimes, she’s making phone calls for Water and Light. Sometimes, she’s working with volunteers. And she thinks about it.

Children. Babies.

A baby.

JJ’s baby.

Her baby.

She thinks of a little blonde haired girl learning to surf. She thinks of a dark haired boy picking up trash out of the sand. She thinks of the way JJ’s eyes light up and her own heart flutters.

Sometimes, Kiara really just can’t help it.

-o-

It doesn’t help that Sarah is settling into pregnancy with the same ferocity as everything else she’s ever done. She’s in her second trimester and her baby bump may be small, but she’s doing everything she can to show it off. She must have spent a fortune on maternity clothes, but Kiara has to admit, she does look adorable.

And she does kind of glow, all cliches aside.

Kiara may think about parenthood sometimes.

It is clearly all Sarah can think about.

Which, she is pregnant, so Kiara understands. She tries to be as supportive as she can, even though she’s pretty sure all the details about breastfeeding and back labor are going to make it harder to convince herself to be open to the idea. But Sarah is her best friend, and that baby is her family. So Kiara sucks it up and does what’s necessary.

That’s how she ends up shopping for baby clothes one afternoon.

She suggests waiting until the baby is born, but Sarah is adamant. She wants to get started, and she wants to get started now, and how can she possibly be ready for the baby if she doesn’t have clothes for three months, six months, nine months, and 12 months?

Kiara thinks she’s joking; she’s not. Those are the sizes of baby clothing.

They’re tiny and adorable, and it’s ridiculous how much they cost.

But she decides – wisely – not to rant about the wastefulness of it, and instead helps Sarah pick out things she thinks will last longer, easy to pass on to another child or resell. Sarah appreciates this, and they come out of one of the stores downtown with a large bag of items and big grins on their faces.

Kiara suggests they get something to eat and drink – she worries about Sarah more than she admits – and they’re turning the corner to head to a nearby cafe when someone nearly turns into them.

Not just someone.

Rafe.

Rafe Cameron nearly turns into them.

Now, for Kiara, that’s bad. She sort of hates Rafe Cameron and all he’s doing to JJ at the business.

But, it takes her precisely two seconds to remember, for Sarah it’s worse.

Because that’s Sarah’s actual brother.

And yeah. That’s no good.

“Sarah,” he says, eyes going wide. He looks down at her, eyes lingering on her belly. “I’d heard that you were pregnant–”

Sarah immediately reddens, putting her hand over her stomach protectively. “It’s nothing to do with you, Rafe.”

Kiara tenses, ready to intervene if she needs to. She’s not really sure what that means, but she’s not afraid to punch Rafe Cameron right here on the street if she has to.

For someone who believes violence isn’t an appropriate response, she sure comes to that idea with surprising ease.

“You’re my sister,” Rafe says, like it matters. He stands there, straightfaced, like he hasn’t tried to murder Sarah more than once, the asshole. “You’re carrying my blood.”

Sarah bristles, sucking in a sharp breath and holding herself terribly, terribly still. “You proved to me a long time ago what blood means to you.”

Good for her, Kiara thinks, even while Sarah seethes. She’s not going to let Rafe walk all over her.

Rafe, though, blinks blankly, like he genuinely has no idea why Sarah is responding so virulently. The guy’s deluded, so maybe he doesn’t. “Whatever happened in the past, Sarah, we have to look to the future,” he says solemnly. He looks at her belly again. “For our family.”

Sarah is quick to shake her head, adamant. “My family is here,” she says, spreading her fingers wide over the bump. “And with John B and the rest of the Pogues. That’s my family, Rafe. Not you.”

“I’m sorry to hear you say that,” Rafe says, and Kaira tenses again, wondering if Rafe’s about to turn batshit crazy. It seems unlikely, as they are in public, but with him, it’s hard to tell. He licks his lips and raises his chin a little, as if posturing. “And I hope you’ll reconsider. For yourself and for your baby.”

Sarah flinches slightly but holds her ground. She breathes heavily through her nose and shakes her head. “Leave me alone, Rafe,” she says, grabbing Kiara by the hand and dragging her past Rafe. “And leave my baby alone, too.”

-o-

They get to the cafe in good time, and Kiara ushers Sarah the entire way in, getting them seated and asking for a spot as far away from the main entrance as possible. Sarah is still clearly rattled, glancing around uncertainly and fondling her bump from time to time as Kiara asks for two waters and some time to look at the menu, thank you very much.

The waitress looks between them – clearly sensing something is off – but she nods and heads out. Kiara picks up her menu but doesn’t look at it as she leans across the table. “Sarah, you don’t have to worry about Rafe.”

Sarah makes a small noise. It’s incredulous, but strangled. “How can I not worry?” she asks plaintively. “It’s Rafe. My actual asshole brother.”

“I know, but he can’t hurt you,” she says. “Not with all of us around.”

Sarah works her jaw, fiddling with her straw on her water. “He did shoot me,” she reminds Kiara stubbornly. “And he tried to drown me.”

Kiara can’t pretend like those things aren’t true. “Yeah, but he can’t get to you now,” she says. She waits until Sarah looks at her reluctantly. “None of us are going to let that happen. I swear.”

Sarah’s jaw finally loosens, and she nods. “I know,” she says, averting her eyes again. She takes a long, slow breath. “I just don’t know what he thinks is going to happen.”

“It’s Rafe,” Kiara reminds her, picking up her own drink. She takes a sip. “I’m not sure thinking is really part of anything he does.”

“Oh, he thinks,” Sarah corrects her. “Just with an utterly deranged logic.”

“But with your dad gone–”

Sarah raises her eyebrows.

Kiara tips her head to the side in concession. “Yeah, that probably didn’t make it better. But we haven’t heard from him in so long.”

“Exactly,” Sarah says. “Which means he’s up to something.”

“Nothing you have to worry about,” Kiara says, ever resolute. She’s not so naive as to think she can will everything into existence, but she’s determined to try. “We’ll take care of Rafe.”

Sarah holds her gaze, ever hopeful.

And Kiara nods. “We’ll take care of you.”

-o-

It’s not a hard promise to make; not at all. Of course, she’d do anything to protect Sarah – and her baby. That’s just how this works.

That’s not to say it’s actually easy to do.

After she drops Sarah back off at the Chateau, she’s struck by that fact. She doesn’t know what Rafe wants, and she doesn’t know what Rafe’s up to, which means she’s working at a deficit here. What she does know, however, is that she can’t do it alone.

She doesn’t have to.

When she gets back home, JJ is already there working on one of his projects out in the shed. He smiles, brightening when he sees her, but sobers quick enough when he sees the expression she’s wearing.

“Bad day out?” he asks, putting his tools down. He wipes his forehead with his forearm and grabs his water for a swig. “I thought it was just you and Sarah.”

“Yeah, and it was,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against the door. “Until we ran into Rafe.”

JJ stops drinking and stares for a second. Then, he puts the drink down. “You saw Rafe?”

“It was a chance thing,” she says. “But it was weird.”

“Like – bad weird?” he asks.

“Bad weird,” she confirms. “He talked about family – like it meant something to him.”

“Pretty sure he doesn’t get to say that after trying to murder her–”

“I know,” Kiara says. “And he knows she’s pregnant.”

JJ straightens, coming to full alert.

“He didn’t threaten her or anything – but it just felt – wrong,” Kiara says. “I don’t know what he’s up to, but it’s not good.”

“And no way in hell is he messing with Sarah – or the baby,” he says, eyes glinting. “That’s a no-go, hands-off.”

“I know, I agree,” she says. And now, she hesitates slightly. “Which is why I think there might be something more to whatever he’s doing.”

“Whatever he’s doing?” JJ asks, not quite following.

“With his charter – messing with you,” she says. “It can’t be a coincidence. All this Rafe bullshit all at once.”

JJ bites his lower lip, considering that. “Probably–”

She straightens too, unfurling her arms and pushing up from the doorway where she’s leaning. “So you have to keep an eye on him.”

JJ scoffs lightly. “Not like I can avoid him–”

“And don’t talk about it around Sarah,” she says.

JJ’s certainty flickers.

Kiara tips her head to the side. “And probably not John B either, not until we know something more.”

“I don’t like lying–”

“It’s not lying,” she says. “Still talk to me – and Cleo and Pope. But Sarah has enough on her mind. With the baby coming, she doesn’t need to worry about Rafe, not until we know what it is she needs to worry about.”

After a second, he nods. “Yeah, I guess.”

She crosses to him, taking him by the arm and smiling up at him. “We have to protect Sarah right now, that’s all.”

At that, he nods in agreement. “Of course. And the baby.”

She leans up to hug him.

He makes a little noise and tries to pull away. “I’m all sweaty, Kie.”

“So?” she says, and she looks up at him. “Sweat isn’t bad.”

“But, like, I’m smelly–”

“I can think of a way for us both to be sweaty,” she ventures.

His eyes widen and his face brightens immediately. “For real?”

“I know it’s cliche as hell, but you going all protector mode on me?” she says coyly. “Is kind of a turn on.”

He grins, salaciously now, as he scoops her up and carries her. She giggles as he hoists her up, jogging them across the yard with urgency and approximately zero grace.

“JJ,” she squeals as they slam through the door. “Jayj–”

“Hush,” he says, kissing her deeply as he stops to balance her against the wall. She kisses him back, feeling the heat build between them. He pulls her back again, moving more gently now to the couch in the living room. “Because I’m going to take care of everything.”

-o-

He does, for the record.

He takes care of everything.

They both end up sweaty.

And so, so happy.

Chapter Text

-o-

CHAPTER ELEVEN

-o-

It’s in the back of her mind – Rafe Cameron. The asshole was after her best friend and her husband, so yeah. It’s on her mind a lot.

But so are other things.

That’s the thing about being a fully functional adult. You have to learn to multitask. Kiara’s life has evolved since leaving her parents’ home – evolved since JJ went into remission – and she has to take care of her family, yes.

She also has to manage her nonprofit.

It’s more or less a full-time job these days, which is great. It means she has momentum, and that her projects are succeeding. She’s making an impact, just like she planned.

But success comes with strings attached. There’s a lot of management involved. And accounting. And paperwork.

There’s so much paperwork.

No one told her that saving the world was another one of those bureaucratic nightmares she’s grown unduly accustomed to as an adult. With more publicity, she has more resources. With more resources, she has more events.

Now she has to manage sponsors, direct funds, and continue making an impact. It’s all up to her – the focus, the scope, the impact, all of it. Every time she thinks she’s got it under control, she discovers a new caveat. Something new to consider.

Like today, when the phone rings.

She’s expecting someone asking her about bookings for her next event. Maybe one of her volunteer coordinators asking about the after-school program.

But instead, the woman introduces herself as Dionne Kay.

“I run the OceanLife project out of Charleston,” she explains.

Kiara perks up immediately, almost instantly forgetting what she was working on. She knows that program; hell, she used to volunteer for that program. She loves that program. In her mind, she’s fangirling – and hard. It takes all her decorum to remind herself that she’s a professional here, even if she doesn’t feel like it.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard of you,” she says. “You’re doing great work up and down the coast.”

“And so are you, I hear,” is the congenial reply. And Kiara is just sane enough to hear the fact that it’s not lip-service. “Which is actually why I’m calling.”

“Oh,” Kiara says, and her mind goes entirely blank. Her heart skips a beat and she’s not sure she’s capable of rational thought as her palms sweat.

“I was doing some reading on everything you’ve accomplished, and I talked to a few of my contacts on the Outer Banks. They’re all saying the same thing, that Water and Light has the potential to make a real difference,” Dionne says.

“I’m just trying to clean up my community,” Kiara remembers to say, and her voice sounds funny. Her head still feels a little light. “It’s my home, so I want to make it beautiful for generations.”

That’s her sales pitch, shit. She’s falling back onto her marketing, like Dionne needs to hear that when she’s got a far more successful outfit than Kiara.

Over the line, Dionne chuckles lightly. “Well, I think I can help you with that. And I think you can help me,” she says. “If you’re interested in taking things to the next level, that is.”

Is she interested? In working with a reputable, nationally acclaimed brand?

Is she interested? In expanding Water and Light?

Is she?

“What did you have in mind?” she finally asks.

“Well, that’s the thing,” Dionne says. “I was thinking about establishing a reciprocal partnership. Kind of like we’d be sponsoring each other.”

“Okay,” Kiara says. “I don’t know a lot of the logistics–”

“We’d have to get the lawyers on board to sort it out,” Dionne says. “But before we even do that, we have to decide if we think it’s a good fit. Everything I’ve seen says yes, but obviously this is also a choice for you.”

A choice.

Why did Kiara have to keep making choices? What was it about adulthood and making choices that impacted your entire future? “Like what, exactly?” she ventures.

“Well, I was thinking I could provide you with the funds to establish an office in Charleston,” she says. “By helping support you in the start-up phase, you’d return it with spearheading cooperative projects in the area. Essentially, you’d give me additional manpower and branding while I was able to get you established here. With the Charleston projects, I’d retain the operational control until you were self-sufficient. We could lay out a step down plan, outlining key points in the tradeover process.”

That’s – a lot. It’s too much. Kiara’s good at playing adult, but sometimes she is just playing. She licks her lips and swallows dryly. “But – what’s in it for you?”

“Well, like I said, manpower,” Dionne says. “I’ve been extended quite thin this past year, and I could use someone to help offset some of the load. Plus, honestly, what helps you – helps me. I think we’re after the same thing here. We both want to make this world a better place, and with some of my support, I think you can be equipped to do even more in the Outer Banks and up and down the coast. I don’t believe in competition in the nonprofit space. I just don’t.”

It sounds like a good offer. In fact, Kiara’s first impulse is to say yes, right then and there. But she’s not gotten this far with reckless choices. She’s learned to be just as measured as JJ has, because that’s just how you have to live life. This is her nonprofit; this is her life.

It’s taken her long enough to get her; she can’t be flippant about it.

“That’s a really generous offer,” Kiara says. “I’m obviously going to have to think about it.”

“Of course,” Dionne says. “How about I email you some of the specs? Just a few rough drafts for you to look at and consider.”

Kiara nods, even though she knows Dionne can’t see her. “How long before you need an answer?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Dionne says. “For now, we’ll consider it an open offer. The sooner we come to terms, though, the sooner we can both move ahead.”

“Thank you,” Kiara says. “Really, that’s – generous. All of it.”

“And for the record, Kiara, there are no hard feelings either way,” Dionne says. “I know you’ve built this yourself. I know it’s a part of you. We all get to live on our terms, and there’s no shame in it. If you decide to stay fully independent, I respect that, too. But part of me does hope we can work together. I think it would be awesome.”

Kiara smiles, feeling the blush rise hot and fast up her cheeks. “Thank you, Dionne.”

“I’ll email the documents now,” Dionne says. “I hope to hear from you soon!”

-o-

Dionne is prompt in following up. Kiara has the paperwork for a tentative offer within the hour. As she reviews it, she can’t help but be impressed.

The potential is real.

It could take Water and Light to the next level far faster than Kiara ever imagined. It’s an offer that nearly guarantees her success.

Also guarantees a whole new commitment. She’d have to spend a lot more time on the mainland. To establish an office in Charleston? Even with money for staffing, her presence would be necessary.

More travel. More hours.

Less JJ.

She knows that’s not the right way to think about it, but she can’t help herself. She fought so hard to get JJ, to keep him.

She’s not sure if she can reconcile a move that has her willingly stepping away, even for a good cause, the best cause. Her cause.

You’re not supposed to supplant yourself for a boy. The wife doesn’t have to defer to the husband. Kiara has worked so long and hard to get here. JJ would be pissed if she didn’t consider it.

But then, maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to tell him. Because maybe she knows what he’ll say.

She just doesn’t know what she wants.

It doesn’t matter, in the end. When JJ gets home that night, he’s clearly stressed out. Most days are good days, so it’s not hard to tell when something’s bothering him. And after nearly dying, he seems much more willing to tell her things. It’s not like she hasn’t seen him at his weakest; he made a choice to trust her.

And he literally has nothing left he can hide from her.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s up?” she asks. They’re halfway through dinner, and JJ’s barely touched his food. He looks up when she speaks, as if he’s surprised she’s noticed.

He’s adorable, sometimes. In his willful naivete.

For someone who has seen so much in life, he can have very little common sense when it counts. “What? Nothing.”

It’s such a poor deflection that there’s no sense in even pretending. “Jayj.”

She doesn’t have to say anything more. He folds, just that fast. “It’s Rafe,” he blurts, putting his fork down and sighing.

She’s not sure what she was expecting, but that’s not it. She frowns. “Rafe? He’s still an issue?”

“He is – and he’s getting worse,” he says, and the stress makes him emphatic. He rubs his hand through his hair, rumpling it so it’s wild on his head. “I mean, I thought it was just business bullshit. But now it’s not.”

She makes a face, trying to piece the story together then. “What the hell does he even want?”

“I don’t know!” JJ says, throwing his arm out a little bit. “I figured he was minding his business, enjoying life at Tannyhill with his stolen gold bars.”

Kiara’s still not making the connection. “And–”

“And now he wants to get out of real estate and start investing in tourism,” JJ says. His hand drops helplessly to the table. “Kie, he’s buying out the competition.”

“The – competition?” she asks with a frown, trying to keep up with the information JJ was providing mostly without context.

“The other charters on the island,” JJ says, his voice pitching with the emotion now. “He’s started buying them out.”

That makes sense – on a basic level. She understands what he’s saying. Rafe Cameron is buying up other charter businesses on the island. On a small island, that kind of thing doesn’t go unnoticed – and it isn’t without impact. JJ has worked hard to establish himself as part of that community. With the larger outfits, it’s a friendly competition. With the other private owners, it’s a sense of solidarity.

It’s no place for someone like Rafe Cameron at all.

“But isn’t he in real estate?” Kiara asks.

“He’s a Kook, man,” JJ says, shaking his head with disdain. “And the Kookiest kind. I’m pretty sure the only thing he’s into is making money any way he can.”

“But it could just be a business venture,” she says. “I mean, it might not be personal.”

Even as she says it, JJ’s stare has her withering.

As if anything with Rafe isn’t personal.

“He can’t get to you,” Kiara says instead, switching her tactics now. “You own the charter outright. You don’t have a loan or lease. He can’t touch you.”

JJ looks miserably back at his plate, slumping a little. “Kooks don’t play fair, Kie,” he says. “You know that.”

She shakes her head quickly – adamant. “Rafe doesn’t have any power over us now,” she says. “We have money and we’re established–”

“And he’s Rafe Cameron,” JJ reminds her. “I’m pretty sure if he’s set his mind on it–”

She lets herself scoff now. “Rafe Cameron is nothing,” she says. “I literally haven’t thought about him in years, JJ. Not until this bullshit – which is just that. Bullshit. It’s got no substance.”

Her confidence isn’t shared, though. He works his jaw, clearly worried.

“Hey,” she says, reaching out to wrap her fingers around his forearm, where it’s resting on the table. “You’re really letting Rafe get to you?”

He swallows, almost guilty about it. “I guess I’m out of practice,” he admits. “I spent so much time worrying about cancer that I didn’t think about Kooks. But those assholes are still there, and they still own this damn island.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Some of them think they own the island, but they don’t. I saw them turn out for you at the bone marrow drive. They stopped me up and down the street, Kook and Pogue, and asked me how you were doing.”

He casts her a doubtful gaze. “Rafe Cameron?”

“Rafe Cameron isn’t Kook or Pogue,” she retorts. “He’s just a lonely asshole with nothing better to do than pick fights. I mean, all this time, he hasn’t grown up. But you have, JJ. You have, so who the hell cares about Rafe Cameron?”

He’s looking at her now, the vestiges of hope coloring his expression. He bites his lower lip. “You think so?”

She gives his arm a squeeze. “I know so,” she says. And she pulls back with a nod. “Now, eat the food.”

He picks up his fork obediently. “Did you really make dinner?”

She shrugs, picking up her own fork. “Costco made it,” she says. “But I did warm it up.”

He grins, shoveling some into his mouth. “Rafe Cameron probably has a chef, you know. Someone who makes fancy shit for him.”

She raises her brows, skeptical. “And you’re jealous?”

“Hell, no!” JJ says, emphatic about it. He takes another bite and swallows it down. “Just more evidence that Rafe Cameron will never – ever – have it half as good as me. If anything, I feel sorry for him.”

She chuckles, but the warmth in her cheeks is impossible to hide. He can still do that to her, make her like a giggly school girl, all turned to goo. Shit, she loves him.

“Oh, shut up,” she says, because it’s the only defense she has left as she grins back at him stupidly. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

-o-

They have a nice dinner, at least. And really, it’s a nice night. They keep busy, the two of them. They do projects around the house, and they work in the yard. Kiara has started a garden, and JJ tends to the chickens, and they wind down the night watching shitty Netflix shows until they’re both too tired to bother.

She thinks it’ll be easy to bed, but JJ’s still restless when they lay down. He’s trying not to show it, but his anxiety is easy for her to clock, and after about 10 minutes of tossing and turning, she wraps herself around him while he protests.

“Hey!” he says, turning back to look at her slightly. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“How can I sleep when you’re all over the bed?” she murmurs, and she pushes him back down, holding him tighter.

He wriggles. “I can go to the other room.”

“Shush,” she says, burrowing her face into his shoulder. “This is fine.”

He tenses for another second, but she doesn’t let him speak.

“Go to sleep, JJ,” she says, and the order is light but firm.

He stills.

She kisses the back of his neck and sighs, letting her eyes flutter close. “Just go to sleep.”

It doesn’t take much for him to give in, not with her.

It doesn’t take much at all before he falls asleep, safe and secure, in her arms.

-o-

The sleep helps, and Kiara makes a big breakfast in the morning just because. Years of food insecurity and months of chemo have made JJ funny about food. He will sometimes forgo eating when he’s stressed — whether he forgets or it’s a form of self-punishment, Kiara isn’t sure. But when she can get him to sit down and eat, especially in times of high emotion, food is almost the ultimate comfort for him.

It does help, keeping him calm. Good distractions keep him grounded, and Kie knows it’s more than food. Being together makes him smile. They’ve been together for years now, but that much hasn’t changed. She’s always known how to bring him to life.

Yet, it’s not perfect. JJ eats and laughs and smiles. He kisses her and holds her, but he’s still anxious. There’s a restlessness to his disposition, one she hasn’t seen in awhile. She’s not sure she’s seen it since he was 17 and still at the bottom of the food chain on the island.

She takes a second to hate Rage Cameron again.

JJ has beaten cancer. He’s facing down the demons his father left behind.

What the hell does Rafe Cameron have to do with anything? What right does he have to mess with JJ?

It’s not that she thinks JJ can’t handle it.

It’s just that he shouldn’t have to.

If anyone has earned a break, it’s JJ. The rest of the island seems to get it.

But Rafe freakin’ Cameron.

With that in mind, she goes with JJ to work the next day. She’s worried about him, and she’s vexed over her own decisions at the nonprofit. She could use the day off.

The fact that JJ doesn’t see through it is a sign of just how much he needs her to. He’s jittery on the drive out, and he’s damn near manic in the office before the morning tour. She would think it excessive, but she can see what he’s talking about. Rafe has set up shop one pier down. The construction is flashy with over the top signage. His boat is bigger, newer, and Rafe himself is outside greeting customers the whole damn time.

And he does have customers. The Cameron name still has some clout, it seems. The people showing up are clearly Kook tourists — and well paying ones, no doubt — but she’s not about to tell JJ that.

Instead, she kisses him. “You’ve got this.”

He grits his teeth, glancing down the pier as his first customers arrive. “He’s trying to put me out of business.”

“He can try,” she reassures him. “But you’re too good at this. Big boats and flashy signs won’t keep people coming back.”

“He’s offering free cocktails,” he mutters.

She makes a face. “That’s such a bullshit gimmick.”

“That people love,” he points out.

She huffs. “Right, so they need to be drunk to love his tour.”

He tips his head, conceding that posing. “Still.”

“Still,” she says, and she pats his back. “I believe in you.”

He purses his lips. “That makes one of us.”

“Shut up,” she says, giving him a little shove now. “And go. You have a tour to give.”

He sighs, more dejected than reassured. “I guess.”

She shoves him harder so he starts down the pier. “I know. So go.”

“Okay, okay,” he says, holding up his hands to her before facing his customers. “Hey, folks! Can I help you get checked in?”

The customers greet JJ enthusiastically, and he responds in kind. He’s good on boats; he’s great on the water – that much has never been in question. But his utter ability to charm every customer who comes to him is still a remarkable thing. JJ has a knack for reading people, and now that he’s financially stable and physically safe, he can apply these skills in more productive and meaningful ways.

In other words, it’s clear to her that this is JJ's calling. He was born for this.

It’s mind boggling that Luke never saw it.

It’s even more terrifying to think that cancer nearly took it all away before he even had a chance to realize it.

Even after all their years together – after their wedding – it’s a remarkable thing to watch. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of it, seeing JJ be JJ. With the self-actualization he’s taken on over the last few years, he’s practically unstoppable as far as Kiara can tell. The only person who doesn’t see it yet is him.

She’s so enthralled that she doesn’t see Cleo until she’s standing right next to her. “Boat’s ready,” she announces.

Kiara startles a little, trying to collect herself. She’s not drooling, but the longing stares are doing nothing for her attempts to be a self-actualized adult herself. JJ grounds her, this is true. He can also turn her into a girlish pile of goo when she doesn’t want it. She’s not sure when she’s supposed to stop going weak at the knees at the sight of her boy in action, but she’s not there yet.

Cleo smirks at her knowingly. “Girl, you are still gone for him, aren’t you?”

She blushes despite herself. There’s nothing to hide from Cleo, but she doesn’t like to always admit it. Pride is a funny thing, especially for a feminist. “What? He’s just been stressed lately. I thought I’d make sure things were okay.”

Cleo rocks back on her heels, pursing her lips. ​​”That’s why you came, maybe,” she observes keenly. “Pretty sure that’s not why you’re staring.”

“Oh, whatever!” Kiara says, giving up her pretenses. JJ is helping the customers check in, and Kiara turns back and sighs. “How are things anyway? With the business?”

Cleo shrugs coolly. “It’s okay to be in love with your husband,” she tells her. “And the business is a thing, isn’t it?”

She looks down at the second pier, where Rafe is also greeting his customers in an annoyingly grandiose fashion.

“He hasn’t actually cut into our numbers at all,” she says. “We’re still running the same number of passengers and turning the same profit. But he’s making it a lot less fun around here, I will give him that.”

Kiara can’t help it if her eyes narrow in on the other man. “Like what’s his deal?” Kiara asks, unable to look away from the spectacle Rafe is clearly making on purpose. His boat is gaudy and ostentatious and he veers it closer to JJ than he should, music blasting.

Cleo stands up next to her, wiping her hand across her brow. “Character deficiency is my best guess.”

Kiara huffs. “Obviously,” she says. “But like what’s his angle? What is he trying to accomplish?”

“Business I get,” Cleo says. She nods at the retreating boats. “But this nonsense? Isn’t even good business. He’s not helping himself at all. I’ve watched him, and I can’t even imagine how he’s turning a profit right now. He’s just trying to piss JJ off. It’s got to be personal for all this.”

Kiara nods slowly. She’s not surprised. Not really. But she’s not sure what to do with it. “Are you sure?” she asks, almost reluctant to fully admit it.

“It’s all a show,” Cleo says. “Like he just wants a rise out of JJ.”

Kiara bites her lower lip. She thinks back to all their times at the boneyard, and the way Rafe had cornered JJ at Midsummers when they were teens. No doubt, Rafe hated him for being a Pogue – and for being a Maybank. But JJ wasn’t even his main antagonist.

John B and Sarah – sure.

And Kiara doesn’t exactly have clean hands either. She’d pushed Rafe into the water and stolen his boat. It’s pretty clear that bygones aren’t going to be bygones.

“Well, we do have a history with Rafe,” she says.

Cleo scoffs. “I hate to say it, but I think the man wants a future, too.”

Kiara frowns now, looking back at Cleo. In the background, JJ is greeting the next round of passengers while the first mill about the waiting area. JJ is glowing and effusive and so, very alive. “You think I should be worried about JJ?”

“I think you should be worried about Rafe,” Cleo counters. She tilts her head and lets her eyebrows lift. “That boy isn’t quite all there, if you know what I mean.”

She does. There’s murder and drug addiction and fratricide and shit.

The surprise isn’t that Rafe is going after JJ.

The surprise is that he waited this long.

She looks worriedly back at JJ, still helping his customers feel at home. Collecting a breath, she chews her bottom lip. “Just keep an eye on things,” she says. “If things escalate, just make sure JJ stays out of trouble.”

Cleo gives her a look of mild disapproval. “I can keep JJ out of trouble,” she says. “I make no promises about myself. The son of a bitch is pissing me off.”

“Yeah,” Kiara says, casting another wary look at Rafe and his ridiculous posturing. All these years, and some of them still hadn’t managed to grow up. “He has that effect on people.”

-o-

Ultimately, besides helping JJ stay grounded and reminding him that Rafe is a nonissue for them now, there’s not much for Kiara to do about it. She has other things to do, and it’s not like she should be sitting around babysitting JJ. That’s not good for her – or for him.

Whatever Rafe is up to is about Rafe.

They’ve been through too much and come too far to let him waylay anything.

And who has the time? Rafe might have the time to revive old rivalries and hold years-old grudges, but she doesn’t – and neither does JJ. Work is consuming enough, but she also has her friends to think about.

Especially Sarah.

She and Sarah have a special relationship. Ever since they met in high school, they’d been something of kindred spirits, despite their differences. That’s the reason Sarah’s betrayal had hurt so much. Because Kiara felt it from the start that they were meant to be best friends.

And they have been. Ever since their reconciliation, it’s been the two of them. Family drama, stupidity with boys, mistakes along the way. It’s what Kiara imagines having a sister is like, and yes, she knows how annoyingly cliche that is. She never realized that growing up meant embracing cliches sometimes. It’s vaguely infuriating and impossible not to do.

They’ve been best friends, confidantes, maids of honors – and now, godmothers.

When Kiara agreed to that, she’d been flattered.

Now that she’s seen Sarah in full-on nesting mode, she’s a little less flattered and a little more terrified. Sarah is tackling motherhood with no abandon. She’s read every book. She’s on all the Facebook groups. She owns every piece of the latest baby equipment. She was already going to be the best mother on the island. Now, she is also the most informed and well-stocked.

As godmother, Kiara is pretty sure her only role is to listen to Sarah rant and be the one the kid turns to in the future when Sarah’s intense form of parenting inevitably causes conflict. It’ll be great – Kiara knows it will.

They just have to survive until the birth first.

And sometimes, Kiara wonders. Pregnancy hormones seem to have made Sarah manic. Whenever they spend time together now, she doesn’t stop talking – and she doesn’t stop planning. They’re always shopping for the baby or setting up the house. Sarah is surprisingly adept at both asking Kiara about her life and offering keen advice, while explaining in excessive detail about the latest trends in sleep training infants.

Today, however, is different.

Kiara isn’t sure why; she’s not sure how.

But Sarah is different. More subdued. She’s not prattling off questions, and Kiara hasn’t heard her cite a single study about infant development. In fact, as they work through a box of organic cotton onesies, Sarah seems hardly invested. She hasn’t even color-coded them in the closet as she hangs them on tiny wood hangers Kiara brought over from one of her environmental baby supply partners.

In fact, for once, Kiara is carrying most of the conversation, and she physically hands each onesie to Sarah, who seems to be barely looking at them before she hangs them up. Finally, after about 20 minutes of this, Kiara can’t stand it anymore. Sarah on pregnancy hormones is a little overwhelming, but seeing her like this? Is concerning.

“Is everything okay?” she finally asks.

“What?” Sarah asks, clearly distracted. She absently hangs the onesie in her hand, oblivious to the fact that she’s got it backward, a fact that Sarah would normally not be able to stand. “Yeah,” she says, pulling down another hanger. “Everything’s fine.”

Kiara hands her another onesie from the box, arching her eyebrows at Sarah skeptically. “Really?”

“Sure,” Sarah says, putting the hanger back in the closet, the onesie still in her hand.

Kiara just stares until Sarah blinks and realizes she’s forgotten to hang the onesie with the hanger. She hastily pulls the hanger back out and shoves the onesie on and in the closet.

“You’re just – a little off,” Kiara observes, trying to keep it gentle. She’s not afraid to speak her mind, but she’s learned over the last few years that honesty doesn’t have to be used as a weapon if you don’t let it. Sometimes, preventing the best version of the truth isn’t a lie as much as it is a kindness.

At least, that’s what she tells herself every time she thinks about Luke.

Sarah sighs, but doesn’t bother pretending. JJ’s cancer made them all vulnerable, and it’s an intimacy they won’t ever let go of, for better or for worse.

Mostly, Kiara is convinced, for better.

“I just have been thinking about it a lot,” she says. “What it’ll be like when the baby comes.”

This makes sense; she’s just not sure why it’s evoking such concern. “Well, a lot will change,” Kiara says. “But you and John B are ready, and we’re all going to be here–”

“No,” Sarah says, and she sighs again, even more pronounced than before. “Like, my baby isn’t going to have grandparents. Or cousins. There won’t even be aunts and uncles.”

It’s not what she’s expecting. Sarah has been almost as much the heart and soul of their little group as JJ, because choosing the Pogues has made her passionate about who they are together. She’s come here by choice, and given up everything to be part of this.

And she’s done it so willfully. So passionately.

Without regrets.

Or so Kiara assumed.

“You’ll have us,” Kiara says softly. She doesn’t want to undermine the emotion, but she wants Sarah to know she’s not alone. She needs her to know that. “We’ll all be aunts and uncles. And someday maybe there’ll be cousins–”

“I know,” Sarah says, and she lets her shoulders slump a little. “I know, and it’s the best, it is. I wouldn’t trade it – I really wouldn’t. But I don’t know. It’s still not like I imagined.”

Kiara’s not sure what to say to that. She’s not sure what comfort would be best, if any. Some things just hurt, and sometimes there’s no way around it. Being trite doesn’t make it go away.

“I just – shit,” Sarah says, shaking her head. Her eyes are wet as she looks tiredly out the window of the well-stocked and well-prepared nursery. “My mom died when I was so little. I don’t even remember her. And now, my dad is dead, too. And Rafe–”

Kiara can’t help herself. This time, she does interject with a scoff. “Yeah, there’s no salvaging Rafe.”

“I hadn’t even thought about him in years,” Sarah says. “Not really, but now he’s all over town. He’s talking to people. John B says he’s sniffing around JJ’s charter–”

“But he’s always been an asshole,” Kiara says, as if that somehow makes it better. “Even before he was insane.”

“I heard he’s up to his eyeballs in debt up at Tannyhill,” Sarah says. “I guess he’s still living large without putting in the work. My dad was always on him when we were kids.”

It’s too easy to pile on, and tempting, too. But she can read the room. Sarah may hate Rafe, but he’s still her brother. She has to be mindful of that, especially now. “Rafe’s always been whatever,” Kiara says dismissively. She pivots as best she can. “What about Wheezie?”

Sarah sighs a little, and it’s clearly heavy on her. “She’s still overseas. Rose has custody, and I don’t think she lets her talk to me.”

Kiara’s brow darkens. “Have you tried talking to Rose? She always seemed nice.”

“She seemed nice, sure, when there was money and power,” Sarah says. “I’m pretty sure she was fully on board for all of my dad’s schemes. I don’t get the sense that she believes my version of what happened down in South America.”

That does, unfortunately, make sense. Hell, Kiara’s not even sure she can blame Rose for that. The official story on Ward’s death is suspicious as hell, and Sarah’s clarifications probably only made it worse.

Sarah puts another onesie on a hanger and swallows. She seems unable to look up at Kiara now. “I think she blames me for his death,” she says hollowly.

Kiara’s chest constricts sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

Sarah doesn’t reach for the next outfit but rubs her hand over her belly instead. “I know,” she says, and she gives Kiara a small glance as she tries to smile. “I’m okay. I am. I’ve come to terms with it. It’s just–”

She hesitates as the confidence she forged falters.

She shrugs a little. “I just wish it could be different, you know?”

“I do, and you know, maybe it can,” Kiara says, and she buoys her voice with as much optimism as she can come up with. “I mean, I salvaged things with my parents.”

Sarah is unconvinced. “Your parents aren’t crazy murderers.”

“They did have me kidnapped,” Kiara says, as if that’s helpful.

Sarah makes a face now, looking at Kiara more fully. “I know!” she says. “Honestly, I can’t believe you forgave them sometimes. After going through the emancipation and all.”

It is a thing, really. She fought so hard to get away from them just to let them back into her life later. “Second chances, I guess,” is all Kiara can think to say. “And they were willing to do it on my terms.”

Sarah is thoughtful now. “So you think I should give Rafe a second chance?”

Kiara balks now. “I was thinking Rose at best,” she says, but then she has to shrug. “But I don’t know. I mean – look at Luke.”

Sarah considers that. “Do you still talk to him?”

“We write,” Kiara confesses. “I still haven’t told JJ. He has no idea.”

Sarah nods sympathetically. “That’s probably for the best.”

Kiara digs out another onesie and hands it to Sarah. “Is it? The way you’re talking, I’m not so sure.”

Sarah takes the onesie with a sigh. “It’s not the same thing, though,” she says. “I know my dad was – I don’t know – messed up. He lost complete control at the end, but he wasn’t all bad. So much of my life – the majority of it – was perfect, you know? I was so happy. The gold just made him – crazy, I guess.”

Kiara knows there’s a point to that, but she’s still not always convinced it’s right. “But if I’m depriving JJ of his family–”

“But JJ doesn’t want Luke in his life,” Sarah points out.

“But JJ doesn’t know the full story,” Kiara says, as the argument plays out the same way it always does as she chases it round and round in her mind.

Sarah puts the onesie away and toddles back, sinking onto the nearby rocking chair. “My dad is dead, Kie. So it’s easy for me to sit here and think maybe he would change,” she says. “But maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d still be doing the same messed up shit he always did, and I’d have to cut him out just like I have to cut Rafe out. If he were here, would I give him a second chance? Maybe. But he’d have to earn it.”

“But what if Luke has earned it?” Kiara says. “I mean, he saved JJ’s life and asked for nothing. He’s sober and working a job and going clean–”

“And he abused JJ for most of his life,” Sarah says flatly. “I’ve read that research, too. The long-term impact of abuse and childhood neglect. JJ has all the hallmark symptoms. Honestly, it’s remarkable that he’s been able to cope as well as he has. Bringing his abuser back into his life would only increase his risk of relapsing on so much of his progress.”

And round and round again.

Kiara has to let out a long, slow breath. “I know, I know, I know,” she groans. “Luke leaving JJ behind is probably the kindest thing he ever did for him.”

“Right,” Sarah says, and she splays her hand on her belly while the baby visibly wriggles beneath her touch. “Which, maybe I should pay attention to. Maybe the greatest thing my dad did for me was to let me go, to let me have this family, this real family. With John B and all of you.”

Kiara has to laugh a little now. “I wish I knew for sure,” she says. “I’m sorry it’s not perfect. I really am.”

“It’s okay,” Sarah says, and she’s smiling now, too, even if her eyes are still sad. “To be fair, I think the hormones make me sad about everything. It doesn’t take much.”

“I’d noticed,” Kiara says.

Sarah drops her mouth in feigned indignance. “Are you mocking me in my hour of need?”

“I am simply agreeing with your assessment of pregnancy hormones,” Kiara says solemnly.

Sarah narrows her eyes. “I’m growing a human, thank you very much.”

Kiara holds her hands up in submission. “I know that!”

“I’m entitled to some leeway!” Sarah retorts anyway.

“A lot of leeway apparently–”

“Hey!”

“All the leeway,” Kiara assures her finally. And when she smiles now, it’s gentle. “What are godmothers for, after all?”

Sarah shakes her head, her own smile breaking free again. “That’s what family’s for.”

“Always,” Kiara agrees. “Always.”

-o-

They finish putting away the onesies, and then Kiara goes over the details of the upcoming baby shower with Sarah again. As Sarah assures her that they don’t need to make it a big deal, Kiara is convinced it has to be the biggest deal.

Because if Sarah is worried this baby won’t have a family.

Well, then it’s up to Kiara to show her just how wrong she is.

-o-

With Sarah getting closer to her due date and facing growing anxiety about family, Kiara knows the pressure is on to throw the perfect baby shower. Sarah insists it’s not necessary — they don’t need the gifts — but Kiara knows that’s not the point.

The point is Sarah deserves to feel special. She deserves to feel loved.

She deserves the sense that her baby will have a family, the best family.

So Kiara will mash up candy bars in diapers and make an all-natural cloth diaper cake. She will come up with pregnancy trivia and handmade prizes before sending out meticulously hand-crafted invites to Sarah’s closest friends.

Cleo helps her in this, spending most of her time securing chair and umbrella rentals for the front lawn of Kiara’s place, where the shower will be held. Kiara finds some additional decor just to make the whole thing feel festive, and when she’s worried it’s not enough, she asks JJ his opinion.

This is the natural move. Kiara can talk to JJ about anything.

It’s also the wrong move. JJ’s great at many things, but his baby shower instincts are apparently atrocious. She realizes her mistake the instant he skims her plans and starts to frown.

“What sort of party is this again?”

“A baby shower,” she says. And then, belatedly, she decides to explain. “Just a way to celebrate Sarah and the baby. Sort of a preparation thing.”

That explanation doesn’t seem to help JJ make heads or tails of it at all. “But you’re playing such weird-ass games. Like, what’s Baby Jeopardy?” he asks as he looks at her. “I thought we weren’t supposed to put babies in danger.”

“No – that’s not – no,” she says, and she smiles. “It’s just a silly game show. You know, the game show Jeopardy? But with all baby stuff.”

There’s part of him, on an intellectual level, that gets the reference now, but he can’t seem to make the connection. He looks at her list again. “Baby photo match? But the kid’s not born yet.”

“We’ll all supply our photos,” Kiara says. “And then we have to match them–”

Even as she explains it, she knows it’s a bad idea. JJ’s face goes a little blank. “I don’t know if my dad kept any of my baby photos.”

“Well,” Kiara says. “These are just ideas.”

“Guess the Poopy Diaper?” he asks with genuine concern. “What the hell, Kie? Do you need me to shit in diapers for you, too?”

Her face goes red. “JJ – no,” she says, emphatically disgusted. “We’ll use candy bars.”

He’s not convinced, clearly. But he wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “And why is the candy in the diaper? Don’t you want people to eat it?”

“You have to smell it and guess what it is,” Kiara says.

“And you complain that my ideas are shit,” JJ mutters. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You know, it’s fun – just whatever,” Kiara says, running a hand through her hair. She takes her list away and turns the page, holding it out to him again. “What about the snacks? Do you like those?”

JJ has more of an opinion about those. Or, more of a coherent opinion.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “Did you get help from Heyward? His shit’s the best.”

She nods. “My parents are making some things, too,” she says, feeling relieved.

“Oh!” JJ says. “Have your mom make those little cheesecake bites. Those things are amazing.”

Kiara takes the pages and scrawls it down. “I think she’d be game. And I wanted the chocolate coconut cookies–”

“Sarah’s favorite,” JJ says with a snap of his fingers. “Like, John B has had to go out so many times to buy those. She was so desperate while John B was out, I had to do it once.”

Kiara is aware. Sarah is many things, but subtle is not one of them.

JJ relaxes a bit, clearly pleased he’s been able to contribute. “And I can help you pick stuff up,” he says. “So you can prepare the – games or whatever.”

There’s some condescension in his tone, but the offer’s not bad. “I’ll take you up on that,” she says. “Cleo is bringing the stuff from Heyward’s, but if you could–”

“Swing by your folks, yeah,” he says. He smirks a bit. “Your mom loves me.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Maybe more than she loves you,” JJ tells her smugly. “I’ll bet she’ll make a batch of bites just for me. Because I’m awesome.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kiara says with a huff. “Right now, I have other things to worry about rather than which one of us is the favorite child.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry: it’s me,” JJ says proudly.

Kiara snorts. “Jayj–”

“Okay, okay,” he says, holding up his hands. “I can also pick up the alcohol.”

She gives him a plaintive look, making a few more notes in her notebook.

“JJ, it’s a baby shower,” she reminds him.

He looks unperturbed. “I wasn’t going to make babies drink it,” he says.

“And Sarah can’t drink it either,” Kiara says, hoping that she’s just pointing out the obvious.

JJ, though, manages to look incredulous. “And so the rest of us can’t either?”

Sometimes, Kiara wonders. How someone so smart and resilient and capable can still be so oblivious. It reminds her how much JJ still has to learn about life. He’s learned the shitty stuff, sure. But the other stuff? The stuff everyone else takes for granted?

JJ still needs her for that.

“Just no alcohol,” she says, flitting her hand through the air. “Soda. Sparkling cider. Bottled water.”

He looks put out, to say the least. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“This isn’t about you for once, JJ,” she says. “So get your act together.”

She’s joking – but she sees him process it. There’s something almost reassuringly calm for him about it: that it’s not about him.

“Consider it together,” he vows solemnly, giving her a mocking salute. “I’m now your official baby shower assistant.”

“That sounds like more trouble than it’s worth,” she retorts, flicking him gently.

“You should have considered that before you married me,” he jokes.

“I did,” she murmurs, leaning up to kiss him. He kisses her back and makes a small noise of content. She pulls back and breathes against him with a grin. “I definitely did.”

-o-

It’s just something to think about, is all. The more she plans the shower, the more she considers what it means. Being a family.

It’s more than blood. She knows this. She loves it.

But it doesn’t have to be either/or. Not when she has the option.

That is a luxury, and she has to contend with that. So many of her friends don’t have that luxury. For them, there’s no one left to reconcile with. Pope has his parents, but that’s it. Sarah may hope to see Wheezie again, and JJ still has no idea about Luke–

But Kiara has parents who love her and they’re right here. They’re not perfect; they’ve screwed up. But they do love her. She can admit that now. It’s complicated and maybe she should let herself really figure it out.

After all, if she does want to have kids someday, understanding her own family is probably a good idea. In theory, anyway. She is admittedly not so sure about the practical application.

It’s not like things haven’t been good. Since the wedding, things have been as good as they’ve ever been in Kiara’s adult life. There’s no active animosity, and they’re friendly when they’re together.

But there’s still a distance. She can feel it in every interaction, and she feels it in herself. It’s why she’s reluctant to text her parents first. Most of her replies are still short and to the point, and she hasn’t invited them out to coffee again.

When they cross paths, it’s all very pleasant. They smile and they hug – but Kiara isn’t seeking them out. She suspects they’re letting her take the lead, because they don’t seek her out either.

If anything, JJ is right. He is doing more with them.

Which is fine. She’s not jealous or worried. But she also knows she’s not doing everything she can. She’s probably not even doing everything she wants. She’s just choosing to not think about it and the days are becoming weeks. They’re going to become months.

And years.

She thinks of Sarah without her family.

She thinks of JJ and the family he doesn’t know he has.

Kiara has a choice to make her family different.

More importantly, she has the choice to make it right.

Getting out her phone is easy. Typing out the text is harder. She starts and deletes it, then starts it again. After several failed attempts, she leaves what’s there with a grimace. It’s not perfect, but nothing will be. It’s a simple invitation. That’s all.

Hey, Mom, want to get coffee?

-o-

The answer is, invariably, yes. It’s the next day when they’re at the shop, just the two of them, and her mother prattles on for a while before finally settling and giving Kiara a small, anxious look. “So,” she says. “Was there something you needed?”

Kiara’s not sure about that. If it’s weird that her mother assumes there’s an underlying motive here.

Which, there is. She’s not wrong.

She just – thinks maybe she should be.

“Kiara?”

“Yeah,” Kiara says quickly, recovering as best she can. “I just wanted to know if you wanted to come to Sarah’s baby shower.”

She blurts it, fast as she can to get the words out, and it’s only after that she wonders if this is a dumb idea. She has good intentions, but maybe her mother doesn’t want that? Maybe her mom doesn’t want to hang out with her friends? Maybe her mom doesn’t want to be here – period.

“Oh,” her mom says, clearly not expecting that. “I mean, I can drop off the snacks, if you want. And I know you’d talked about paying me before, but that’s really not necessary–”

Kiara shakes her head. This is somehow missing the point. If anything, it’s getting worse. “No, I don’t – I mean,” she says. “This has nothing to do with the snacks. I just thought maybe you’d like to be a part of it. Sarah asks about you. I’m sure she’d love you to be there.”

Her mother is still clearly in unexpected territory here, and Kiara watches as she gauges her options, trying to find the best one. Up until this point, Kiara has talked about the shower in business terms. Times and dates, payments and supplies.

Shifting it to the personal side is what she wants.

She’s just not sure she’s doing it right at all.

“Well – sure,” her mom says, somewhat brightly now. She seems to be warming herself to the idea. “I have been thinking about her. The poor thing with no mother around. I know there are books and the internet – but it’s so nice to have someone to talk to about it.”

Kiara feels something unfurl slightly in her chest. That’s it, of course. Her mother always knows what it is she’s looking for, and she’s nothing if not generous with Kiara. “Like, you don’t have to feel obligated,” she says, and she’s not sure why she’s trying to soften it. She doesn’t want to be presumptuous.

Or really, she’s not sure what she wants.

“Kiara, of course I do,” her mother says, because Kiara’s got no clue, but her mom knows exactly what she wants. The same thing she’s wanted since the day Kiara served her with emancipation papers and took them all the way through court just because. “Honey, Sarah’s your friend. Your family. That baby is going to be a big part of your life – your life and JJ’s. I would love to be a part of that, if you want me to be.”

Kiara hates that she’s a smart, articulate, successful woman.

Who still feels like a little girl around her mother.

“Well, you’re more than welcome,” Kiara finally says, and she’s aware how lackluster it is. Some pittance, really.

But her mother beams in response. “Then, I’ll be there!” she says, ever enthusiastic and as if Kiara hasn’t fumbled this invitation on every possible level. “Which reminds me. I meant to ask before – with the snacks – do they know the gender?”

It’s almost reflex for Kiara to wrinkle her nose. “Gender is an outdated concept–”

“Right,” her mother says with a nod, like it’s obvious to her when it’s clearly not. “Neutral colors are best anyway. I’ll crochet something.”

It’s really dumb, if Kiara’s honest. Her own social proclivities are what they are, but Sarah’s choice for gender neutral themes is entirely to preserve the surprise. No doubt, Sarah will buy pink dresses for a daughter and blue, baseball-themed rompers for a little boy, so what the hell is Kiara doing making her mom feel small like that?

“I mean, you’re already making the snacks, Mom,” she says, shaking her head.

“I know,” her mom says. “But you had offered to pay for those, so it’s not a gift–”

“I know,” Kiara says in return, even though she’s not sure she does know. She doesn’t know anything at this point. “I just–”

Her mother can clearly see her fumbling. She’s pretty sure the entire coffee shop can see how badly she’s handling this.

Kiara just isn’t as grown up as she looks. She’s not as confident as she wants to be. Sometimes she thinks she put so much of herself into saving JJ’s life that she literally has no other life skills.

Adulthood is hard. That’s it in the end. Relationships are complicated. And Kiara is still the girl who was kidnapped by her own parents. She’s still the girl who filed for emancipation and won.

She’s still the girl who wants to go back and do it all again. Forgiveness isn’t an absolute.

It’s just a letting go.

And grace is a gift no matter how it’s given. Bone marrow transplants done anonymously. Cups of coffee in a fumbling conversation.

“Honey, Sarah is like a sister to you, so she’s like a daughter to me,” her mom says like it’s that easy. “So don’t pay me for snacks, okay? And let me crochet something cliche and cute.”

It’s the honesty of it, in the end. It’s the fact that her mom means it. There are no ulterior motives. There’s nothing held back. Yeah, things have gone wrong. There was Kitty Hawk and emancipation.

And so what?

Her mother loves her. She loves her mother. Forgiveness doesn’t erase anything. But it gives you a place to start over if you want.

Kiara wants to.

She just does.

“Okay,” she says.

Her mother blinks, almost like she’s surprised that Kiara has capitulated. That’s fine. Kiara’s kind of surprised too.

“Okay,” her mother says and she sits back and smiles. She nods, picking up her coffee. “Okay.”

Kiara picks up her own coffee in tacit agreement.

It really is okay.

-o-

Okay. Things are okay.

And maybe they’re more than okay.

Maybe they’re good. Maybe they’re great.

Maybe it’s all really coming together.

-o-

Kiara isn’t usually one for opulence – her own wedding notwithstanding, in her mind, it doesn’t count – but this is for Sarah. So Kiara makes the baby shower bigger and better. It’s over the top, sure. But it’s just a token of what Sarah has given her and JJ over the years. A pittance really.

There are games and gifts, snacks and party favors. The boys grill outside, and Sarah opens presents inside. JJ brings some beer, but keeps it discreet, with a small cooler in the yard alone, and he’s so paranoid about accidentally getting hammered at a baby shower that he doesn’t drink at all.

It’s fine, though. Everyone has a good time. No, they have a great time. John B beams proudly the entire day, looking at Sarah’s pregnant belly with an inordinate sense of pride. Sarah blushes and squeals, falling in love with every baby onesie and infant toy. The guests are gracious and play Kiara’s games with enthusiasm, and JJ sneaks inside to smell the candy diapers for himself.

When he eats the candy to prove which one is which, the entire room erupts into laughter and groans, and Sarah laughs like Kiara hasn’t heard her laugh in months. There are presents and prizes and party favors.

But the only thing that matters is that look on Sarah’s face.

The gold has let them buy anything they want

The only thing they need, however, is what they found before they got rich at all.

Family.

Pogues for life.

The baby needs clothes and diapers and bottles and toys. Mostly, though, this baby just needs to know where it belongs. With them.

Sarah will have no doubts.

Not today.

Not ever again.

-o-

When the last guest leaves, Kiara starts the process of cleaning up. She’s been mindful to use recyclables, but it’s still a lot of cleanup. The plates and the cups and the utensils – not to mention the mess the boys made outside.

As kids, John B wouldn’t have cared. Indeed, the Chateau was often barely livable in those days. But it’s a new Chateau. More importantly, John B is a family man now. Part of growing up is accepting responsibility for your messes.

Figurative and literal.

JJ is helping John B outside while Kiara manages with Cleo inside. Sarah starts to help, too, but Kiara refuses it. Cleo backs her up.

“This is your day,” Kiara insists. “So the work is on us.”

Sarah purses her lips in disagreement. “This is my day. You guys went above and beyond. The least I can do is help.”

Cleo actually hisses at her. “The least you can do is sit down and let us finish.”

Sarah opens her mouth, still ready to object.

Kiara rolls her eyes to intervene. “It was a long day. So sit down and take care of that baby, okay?”

Because appealing to Sarah’s well-being wouldn’t do it.

Appealing to the baby’s, however, might just work.

Sarah knows it, too. She looks perturbed as she palms her belly and reluctantly sits down. “I can’t bend over anymore anyway,” she says keenly. “I feel like I swallowed a basketball.”

“You look it, too,” Cleo snarks.

“Hey!” Sarah protests. “I thought it was my day.”

Kiara bags up a few more paper plates. “A beautiful basketball,” she says as diplomatically as possible. “Because your baby is healthy and strong and almost ready to join us.”

It’s a little too on the nose, and Cleo rolls her eyes.

But Sarah is a little too pregnant and her hormones are wild. She softens, looking down at her belly with a smile. “You know, I didn’t think I’d ever be ready.”

“I’m guessing most parents don’t,” Kiara says, pausing in her pickup.

Sarah looks up again, beaming now. “But after today, I think I might be.”

Cleo nods at the stack of gifts. “I think you got all the gear.”

“But it’s not about the things,” Sarah says. “It’s about the people.”

“Of course it is,” Kiara says because that is the point. That has been the entire point. “And baby’s ready for us. So we’re ready for them.”

Sarah hesitates then, looking back down. “I know I’ve been stupid–”

“Not stupid,” Kiara says.

“Needy then,” Sarah amends. Kiara can’t deny that and her silence concedes it as Sarah looks up. “I think about it, though. What it would be like to have this baby as a Kook. A nursery at Tannyhill. A trust fund. A shaker with live storks–”

Kiara looks incredulous. “I was supposed to get live storks?”

“No, and that’s my point,” she says. “I think about having a baby on the Figure Eight and all I can think is how awful it would be.”

“Bet they let the help clean up,” Cleo mutters.

“I’m serious,” Sarah says. “I’m ready to have this baby because of you. I’m ready to have our first little Pogue.”

The first, is not lost on Kiara.

And not the last.

That’s a hope. That’s a promise. That’s the great unknown.

But families, she realizes, are meant to grow.

“So you take it easy,” Kiara coaches one last time. “Because that baby? Belongs to all of us.”

Because Pogue for life starts at birth.

And lasts until the day they all die.

-o-

Once she’s done inside, Kiara gives Sarah one more hug and says goodbye to Cleo, who is helping move the gifts into the nursery. Out on the porch, she can see the boys still hard at work. John B sees her and jogs up, climbing up the stairs to join her in the screened area.

“Hey,” he says. “Everything good?”

“I more or less left your house as I found it,” she says. “Except for the new excess of baby gear you have.”

“Yeah,” John B says with a chuckle. “I don’t really get how someone so small is going to need so much shit, but Sarah insists it’s all important.”

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t argue with Sarah right now,” Kiara suggests.

John B is utterly sober. “Not even close,” he says. “I thought pregnant women were supposed to be sweet and motherly – but I have been in fear for my life several times.”

It makes her smile, even if it’s only partially a joke. “Well, she should be happy for a while. I hope.”

“Definitely,” John B says, and he’s eager on this point. “Seriously, Kie. What you did today. Was amazing.”

“It was a baby shower, John B,” she says. “I got all my ideas from Pinterest.”

“It’s more than a baby shower,” John B says. “It’s exactly what Sarah needed. Not all the baby shit. That’s great and all. But just the experience.”

“The family,” Kiara supplies for him.

And it seems to dawn on him, too. “Yeah,” he agrees. “All the stuff with Rafe–”

“Doesn’t matter,” Kiara says. “Because she has us.”

At that, John B smiles. “It means a lot to Sarah to have you – all of you.”

“And it means so much to us to have her,” Kiara assures him.

“Yeah, but what you did today was special, Kie,” he says. “It really was.”

It’s not that she disagrees. It’s just that – that’s the point.

“She’s my best friend,” Kiara says simply. “And really, after what she did for JJ – what you both did for JJ–”

They look at JJ, cleaning up the yard

“I would do it for him again in a heartbeat,” he says, and there’s no hesitation in his voice. There’s just no doubt. The purest certainty in the world, from one brother to another. He nods as he looks back at Kiara. “All of us would.”

She loves John B. She knows she’s thought that before – she’s known it for years – but sometimes the weight of it is palpable. She loves John B.

“I know,” Kiara says. “And I’d do it for Sarah again, too.”

John B wets his lips, and he looks at Kiara carefully. “It’s just hard sometimes, I think. With my family gone and hers–”

“Yeah,” Kiara says.

John B takes a breath. “I keep trying to tell her, to remind her, but sometimes you need to see it,” he says. “That we do have a family.”

“Of course you do,” Kiara says. “And today’s just one day. We’ll show it to her tomorrow and the next day – and all the days. The baby, too.”

John B smiles again, nodding his head. “Thanks, Kie,” he says, reaching out for a hug – a hug Kiara is quick to reciprocate. “For everything.”

“No thanks needed, John B,” she says. “None at all.”

-o-

The boys finish the yard with Kiara’s help, and Kiara is quick to usher JJ out of there. It’s not that he’s not welcome, but it’s been a long day. John B needs his wife as much as his wife needs him.

Also, for the record, Kiara needs her husband, too.

He may be otherwise distracted at the moment after the day’s excitement, but Kiara is pretty sure he needs her as well.

JJ drives home, still buzzing with adrenaline from the day. Kiara, for her part, is pretty sleepy. She’s not an introvert necessarily, but she’s not used to being the center of attention quite that much. She feels more worn out than she expects.

But it’s not just been the day, has it?

It’s been months of planning and preparation. Weeks of fine-tuning and obsessing. She’s given her all to this; she’s gone all in.

Now that it’s over, the crash of emotions is real. She’s glad it’s the weekend, so she has more time to recover physically, mentally, and emotionally.

JJ parks in the drive and they both climb out. He’s still buoyant with a bounce in his step, taking the steps fast. “I didn’t take a piss all day,” he says, hurrying past her to get inside.

“You didn’t – what?” she calls after him.

He waves back at her. “Too busy! Be right back!”

She rolls her eyes at him as he bounds through the door, and she drags her legs wearily inside. She tosses her things on the counter, indifferent to picking them up for now. She has to unpack the remnants of the party games, and the other supplies will need to be sorted, donated, and recycled as needed.

But that’s a tomorrow job.

Possibly a Monday job.

She’s about to leave her keys and purse on the counter, too, but there’s a familiar buzz from her phone. She’s tired, but not quite tired enough to check, so she pulls it out and looks at the message. It’s from her mom.

Hey, Kiara! Thanks for a great time today! Everything was perfect. Tell Sarah she looked beautiful!!!

It makes her smile, for some reason. Her mom’s replies can seem forced and formulaic sometimes.

Or they can just be really sweet.

Maybe they are just really sweet.

Because it makes Kiara smile when all her defenses are well and truly down. It makes her happy.

I’m glad you came, Mom, she replies.

Not because it’s the right thing to say. Not because she’s trying to go through the motions.

But because she means it.

After all this time, after all this effort, she just means it.

Chapter Text

-o-

CHAPTER TWELVE

-o-

It’s been a good day, but it’s also been a long day. To say she’s tired is an understatement. Kiara is exhausted. She practically collapses in the hammock outside, closing her eyes and letting the tension roll right out of her muscles. She may or may not be half asleep within seconds when there’s the sound of someone in the hammock next to her.

She knows it’s JJ without looking. He’s the only one here, and she just knows.

“You doing okay?” she asks, blinking over at him.

“I’m fine now that my bladder is empty. I may or may not have taken a shit, too.”

She wrinkles her nose at him. “Gross?”

He shrugs, lounging easily next to her. “You look wiped, though.”

“Mm,” she says, closing her eyes again with a long breath. “Being a good party planner is exhausting.”

“I barely planned shit, and I’m tired enough,” he says. “But Sarah had a good time.”

She opens her eyes again to look at him. “She did, didn’t she?”

He nods, fully pleased to reaffirm this for her. “You did it perfect, Kie. Absolutely perfect.”

It’s a little too self-gratifying, maybe. Really, it’s a lot self-gratifying. But she has worked hard. And Sarah was happy. It’s not wrong to feel good about that. It’s just not.

Life has been so hard, sometimes. Life has been too complicated and heartbreaking and awful.

She has learned to do more than accept the wins. She has learned to celebrate them, too.

Contentedly, she turns her eyes up to the sky. “Sarah’s due in, like, a month,” she says lazily, eyes tracking the stars as they come out in the canopy of trees in the yard.

“Yeah,” JJ replies, as if it doesn’t mean anything.

She looks at him. He’s laying, half lidded now, as he drifts somewhere near sleep after the party. He’s totally relaxed, hands folded across his stomach.

She could leave well enough alone.

Except there’s still something, isn’t there? All the confidence she has is in how things are. And here she is, on the cusp of everything changing.

She’s not stupid; of course it’s scary when she thinks about it. When she thinks about a baby, about Sarah and John B as parents. About all of them: growing up.

“Are you worried?” she wonders.

He snuffles, wrinkling his nose without opening his eyes. “I’m not the one giving birth.”

She rolls her eyes at his plaintive answer. It seems like a misdirect, but he’s notably unmussed. Even now, with all that’s changed, he struggles with long-term thinking. So maybe it hasn’t hit him, the depth of what’s coming. Maybe he can’t conceptualize it.

“A baby is going to change Sarah and John B,” she says gently, but she still says it. She thinks she needs to make sure he knows. She thinks she needs to know. “It will change all of us.”

He looks at her, utterly credulous.

It’s not the reaction she’s expecting. Feeling at a loss, all she can say is, “You’re really not freaking out about that?”

He shrugs. “Nah,” he says. He looks up, seemingly indifferent. “I mean, it’s too late to worry about it. Like you said, ready or not the baby’s coming in a month.”

She’s still watching him, though. She breathes heavily, shaking her head. “And that’s it?”

He looks at her, surprised. And still nonplussed.

“JJ,” she says, lifting her head a little to enunciate more clearly. “How can you not be a little worried about the changes that are coming?”

He makes a face. It’s not dismissive – not exactly. Maybe it’s just a question of acceptance. Like he’s figured something out that Kiara still can’t parse.

“I mean, it has to change, right?” he says, as if it’s just that simple. “Like, I know what the alternative to not changing is. And it’s kind of shitty. So I’ll take what life throws, you know? Because it’s life.”

Because it’s life.

Not death. Not cancer; not abuse. Not poverty; not PTSD.

It’s life.

It’s so simple, and maybe painfully obvious. It would be easy to roll her eyes and excoriate him for being facile.

Except – that’s not it, is it? He’s not wrong. And she knows why.

Better than anyone, she should get it. But while cancer has forced JJ to let go, it’s made it that much harder for Kiara to do so. JJ had his control stripped of him, and Kiara filled in his wake. And that’s still hard for her to let go. To live.

She settles back a little with a long sigh. “You’re being awfully mature about this,” she comments ruefully.

“Kie, I almost died,” he says. “Whatever life has to offer me now, I’m good for it.”

She purses her lips, allowing herself one last moment of skepticism. “Even babies?”

“Even babies,” he says. Then, he hesitates, confidence faltering just a little as he studies her. Then, he blurts, “You’d be so hot if you were pregnant.”

She groans, throwing her arm over her face. “Oh, my goodness–”

“I’m sorry,” JJ says intently. “But it’s true.”

She looks at him hotly. “That’s what you got from this heart to heart?”

His expression is earnestly baleful. “It’s not my fault you’re amazing.”

She is not swayed. “Don’t tell me you have a breeding kink now.”

“I could,” he admits, nodding quickly as he sits up a little, clearly with growing interest. “I mean. I could put a baby in you. I could put a baby in you right now–”

She swats him. “This is so not a turn on.”

He deflates slightly, eyebrows drawn together. “It’s not?”

“Not even a little,” she insists.

He’s up again, this time sitting on the hammock to lean closer to her. “Not even a little?”

She’s slipping, her focus starting to fail her as his lips press against hers. “Not even a little,” she says, but it’s less convincing now.

He kisses her again, and he’s on his knees now, running his fingers along the edge of her shirt and up–

“A little little?” he murmurs.

Her body is betraying her, damn it. She flushes. “Shut up,” she says, even as she pulls him in by the hair to kiss him again.

His hands take the hint and fiddle with her bra until it’s loose. “See?” he says, using his other hand to undo the button on her pants. “You want me to put a baby in you.”

Her fingers scratch at the back of his neck. “Shut up,” she says again, pulling him up on top of her. The hammock sways precariously for a moment while JJ finds his balance. She rocks her hips up toward him. “Or you won’t get what you want.”

And JJ is only too happy to comply.

-o-

A month can be a long time. Kiara knows this. She knows how long a month felt when JJ was going through chemo. She remembers how painfully long JJ’s month in the hospital felt.

And the month she spent in court, finalizing her emancipation papers. The month she spent stranded on an island. The month she spent thinking John B and Sarah were dead.

A month can be a lifetime.

Or it can go by in the blink of a second.

To be fair, there’s still a lot going on. Between her nonprofit and JJ’s business, there’s always something to do. Plus, they have to keep up the house, maintain relationships – and do all the adult shit that you never think about when you’re 18 and stupid.

The week of Sarah’s due date, everyone is all abuzz. John B has taken paternity leave already, and Kiara fills in at the surf shop, doing her work on the side while she helps tourists buy corny t-shirts and book surfing lessons. JJ is so anxious that he can hardly function, and he drags Kiara over to the Chateau multiple times a day, as if he’s worried Sarah will have accidentally given birth without alerting them.

Sarah is huge, to be sure, and she waddles earnestly now. However, she reports with increasing malaise, Baby Routledge is in no rush to be born. She’s 41 weeks and barely dilated.

“What if it’s never born?” Sarah laments.

JJ and Kiara have brought them dinner – Mexican food that Sarah requested and now does not want to eat – and John B looks like he hasn’t slept in about three weeks.

“That’s not a thing,” John B blurts. He blinks owlishly a few times, glancing at JJ. “That’s not a thing, right?”

JJ shrugs, genuinely at a loss.

“No, it’s not a thing,” Kiara says, because honestly she doesn’t know anything about pregnancy but she’s also not an idiot. That’s not a thing. “Babies just take their time. Especially first babies.”

Sarah groans. “I’m pretty sure that’s a terrible excuse,” she says and she dips her head to talk directly to her belly. “You hear that, baby? I am not accepting excuses until you come out and tell them to me face to face?”

This time, JJ nods solemnly. “I’m pretty sure that’s also not a thing.”

Sarah glares at him. “Don’t think I can’t take you, JJ,” she says. “Even pregnant, I can kick your ass.”

John B nods at him seriously and JJ’s eyes widen.

Kiara, again, intervenes. “Have you tried some natural methods to induce labor?”

“Um, walking – check,” Sarah says. “Spicy food – check.”

“What about – you know?” JJ says, tilting his head suggestively before cutting himself off. “A little time in the bed?”

“Check,” John B says readily.

Sarah grunts, struggling to get to her feet. John B scrambles to help her. “Doesn’t this baby know we’re ready? That there’s a nursery and a house and toys and clothes and a family?”

“It’ll happen,” Kiara says, with a reassuring nod. She frowns, though, as Sarah grasps her belly and takes a step. “Are you okay?”

John B is still lingering at her elbow. “Is it a contraction?”

“No,” Sarah says. “But I think I may have peed myself.”

JJ makes a face.

“Don’t you say anything,” Sarah snaps at him. “Or next time, I’ll pee on you.”

JJ looks momentarily horrified as she waddles toward the bathroom, and John B glances back with an apologetic smile. “Maybe it’s best if you guys–”

“Leave, yeah,” JJ says, already on his feet. “Because as much as I would love to stay and get peed on–”

“I know where you live, JJ!” Sarah calls as she closes the door.

Kiara is on her feet now, too. “Hormones,” she says, taking JJ by the arm and leading him outside. “Powerful little bitches.”

-o-

They make it back home with no further incident, which is good. They watch a little TV and catch up on some texts before she notices him looking at her like that.

It’s a look she knows because she knows JJ.

It’s a look she knows because yeah. She has it, too.

It doesn’t take long to get them back in the bedroom, clothes on the floor. He’s eager tonight, picking her up and putting her down on the bed. She thinks this might be fast, but she can work with that.

But then, JJ slows down, pulling back a little, watching her carefully as his fingers trail up and down her body. She vibrates a little, swallowing hard as she bites her lip. She’ll let him take the lead tonight.

He breathes an expletive, fingers tracing over her curves. “You’re so hot.”

She lifts her fingers, tracing along the gentle arc of his muscles. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He shifts closer to her again, palming her belly with a tender caress. “Do you think about being pregnant ever?”

It makes her mind skip, taking her out of the moment just a little. “We’ve talked about this–” she says, because she’s horny and wants to have sex. Motherhood is a lifelong commitment. Having sex with her husband is a momentary and necessary reprieve.

“No,” he says, trailing a kiss down her side. “Do you think about being pregnant? Like, the changes?”

That’s enough to make her stop. “I guess not,” she says, watching as JJ kisses her again, running his hands up to her chest in a way that makes her groan. “It’s a natural human process–”

His other hand finds something very, very pleasant, and her breathing tightens as her body flushes.

“But it makes you big. Stretch marks. All that stuff,” she says, using her fingers to touch him back. “You probably wouldn’t like it?”

He stops what he’s doing and pulls back.

She stops, too, surprised by how surprised he is. “What?”

“Why wouldn’t I like it?” he says.

“Stretch marks and varicose veins?”

“What are varicose veins?” he says.

She shakes her head. “It just changes your body, JJ,” she says. “And breastfeeding can be hell on your breasts–”

“Wait, what?” he says. “Your breasts are perfect–”

“That’s what I'm saying,” she says. “Having a baby changes everything.”

He’s quiet for a second, but then he looks at her very, very seriously. “That’s not bad, though, right?”

She blinks back at him, hesitating. “I guess. I just thought you might – I don’t know. Not love it.”

“I love every part of you,” he says, and he’s touching her again, running his hands up and down and–

She shudders.

“And anything that happens while you’re carrying a baby,” he says, pausing to kiss her. “While carrying my baby – is sexy as hell.”

If she’s going to argue in principle, her breath fails her. JJ finds a sweet spot and doesn’t let up. And he’s right on point. In words and action and Kiara doesn’t have a breeding kink. She’s not sure about her maternal instincts.

But making a baby right now?

Doesn’t sound so bad.

-o-

She’s right; it doesn’t take long. But neither of them are unhappy with that. He helps her clean up this time, and she decides to take a shower anyway. He kisses her before she does, and she lets the warm water help her relax and soothe the day away.

When she’s done, she finds JJ already in the bed – passed out. He doesn’t even snuffle when she climbs in, and she has to roll him slightly out of the way from where he’s flopped toward her pillow.

Laying down, she watches him for a moment.

And thinks.

About a baby.

About their baby.

Growing inside of her.

What would it be like? What would it be to feel it moving? What would it feel like to have that life inside her? The body knows what to do; would she, though? Would it come as naturally to her as it does to Sarah? It’s not varicose veins and stretch marks.

It’s a little person, dependent on you for everything. A person you have to raise up. A person you have to love.

That’s terrifying, really.

And – exciting?

Maybe she does want it. Maybe she really wants it.

But JJ–

She bites her lips as she watches him sleep. She really doesn’t know if JJ can have kids. It had been one of the things she hadn’t paid attention to. All the talk about survival and relapse; Kiara hadn’t put much thought into fertility.

The doctor had suggested freezing some of his sperm, as a precaution.

But it had all happened so fast. JJ hadn’t wanted to wait. And who thought about having kids at 18? Who worried about parenthood before you were legally old enough to drink?

It seems foolish now. Shortsighted.

They should have thought.

They should have thought.

She’ll need to call the doctor – for both of them. Just to see where things are at. Maybe talk about stopping the pill–

Maybe a lot of things

She closes her eyes and exhales long and slow.

Maybe.

-o-

Whatever Kiara thinks she should do doesn’t matter. Whatever plans she might have had are kind of irrelevant.

Because they get the text, around dinner the next day.

Hey! Sarah may be in labor!

JJ is so excited he almost trips getting up from the couch to run in and tell her, in case she hasn’t seen the group text.

Over text, JJ, Pope, and Cleo proceed to start a betting pool for the time and hour of the birth, and the stakes get so ridiculously high that they almost miss the update, about 8 PM that evening.

Never mind. Sarah may not be in labor.

Followed by a sad-face emoji.

JJ is nearly bereft, going to bed sulking about how unfair the birthing process is. She doesn’t have the heart to tell him yet that he’s not the one suffering here, because he cares so damn much.

At any rate, he pouts too soon because the next text comes from John B at 11 PM.

Sarah is definitely in labor. At the hospital now!

JJ, who is supposed to be in bed asleep, crashes out of bed, tripped up in the sheets as he comes bounding out. “She’s in labor! She’s having the baby!” he yells like she’s not holding her phone reading the exact same message.

She raises her eyebrows at him.

He looks incredulous. “What should we do?” he asks her – almost demands.

She is mostly at a loss. “Uh – we should wait?”

JJ looks at her like she’s absolutely lost her mind. “Wait? What do you mean wait?”

Kiars shrugs. “We’re not the ones having the baby. There’s really nothing for us to do except wait.”

JJ looks positively stricken by this, his entire disposition crashing. “But – we wait?” he repeats, like he can’t even fathom how to do such a thing.

And to be fair, it is hard. They’ve waited nine months for this baby to be born – and then some. They’re all ready for their newest Pogue. If Sarah is in labor, they all want to be there with her. That’s how they do shit as Pogues: together.

But she’s pretty sure having a baby is not a group activity, even if raising one might be.

“I think so,” she says simply.

He huffs, clearly at a loss. He wants to do something – he just has no idea what. “That’s – shitty.”

It makes her laugh. “A little bit, yeah.”

For a moment, he just looks stricken. “So we just wait?”

She shrugs. “We just wait.”

-o-

So they wait.

And wait some more.

As might be expected, Kiara handles it better. JJ doesn’t really handle it at all. That’s the generous way of saying he’s moody and restless. If he’s not a complete wreck, he’s about to bite her head off, and he carries his phone with him like he’s afraid of missing something.

Kiara takes it with some grace, though she firmly reminds him that being an asshole is not a good way to start off his life as an uncle. He’s chagrined enough to be nicer, but he’s not chagrined enough to calm down.

When it’s clear JJ has no intention of going to bed, Kiara makes a point of overtly getting ready herself. She all but invites him to come back with her, but he shakes his head.

“Jayj,” she says. “You can’t stay up all night.”

He hardly seems to hear her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She looks at him skeptically.

“I will, I swear,” he says.

She takes him at his word and curls up to rest her eyes. Four hours later, when she opens them again, the lights are still on in the house and the bed is empty. Groggily, she gets up. “JJ?”

There’s no answer.

Blinking away the sleep a little more, she gets up and finds her feet on the ground. Shuffling a little – blinded by the lights – she makes it out to the living room. “JJ?” she calls again.

Her phone is still there, and she checks it. There are no text updates from anyone.

Uncertain, she peers into the kitchen, but that’s empty, too. She hears the noise from the porch and sleepily crosses it and opens the door.

And there’s JJ.

Pacing back and forth, phone in hand.

He looks about as tired as Kiara feels, and she’s at least gotten some rest.

“JJ?” she asks.

This time, he looks at her. “Hey,” he says. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

She isn’t sure if that’s a serious question. “What are you doing?” she asks.

He sits down, bouncing his knee. “Waiting. You said we had to wait.”

“You can sleep and wait,” she says. “You said you were coming to bed.”

It’s entirely unclear if JJ even remembers that question. He shakes his head. “I haven’t heard anything.”

She squints at him, pushing her unkempt hair out of her face as she tries to process what’s going on at this hour. “What time is it?”

“3 AM.”

She blinks, doing a double take. “3 AM – JJ, why would he text you at 3 AM?”

To her, it’s an obvious question.

To JJ, it has an even more obvious answer. “I know I don’t know shit about babies, Kie, but I’m pretty sure they can be born at 3 AM.”

He’s right, of course. That’s the stupid part. He’s right.

But he’s also missing the point. Babies are born whenever they’re born, but no one visits a baby at 3 AM. Even if Sarah has progressed that quickly through labor, they still have to go during actual visitor hours like a sane person.

Though, clearly, sane isn’t so much a thing for JJ in his sleep deprived state.

“Jayj, I know you’re anxious about the baby – we all are – but you’re not thinking,” she says, letting herself be a little firm now. “We’re not going to the hospital at 3 AM.”

He looks up at her, almost like that answer offends him. “Why wouldn’t we go at 3 AM?”

“Because it’s 3 AM,” she says.

He looks indignant. “The baby doesn’t know that!”

She sighs, rubbing her forehead. “JJ–”

He gets up, throwing his arms up in a wide, flailing motion. “I can’t sleep, Kiara! My best friend is having a baby – he’s going to be a dad – and all our lives are going to change. How the hell am I supposed to sleep? They’re not sleeping!

There’s truth to that. She could argue it fifteen different ways, but she can’t miss the point any more than JJ can. JJ wants to be a part of this. JJ is a part of this. He’s anxious and nervous and excited and he has no idea what to do.

Is staying awake the most productive thing? No.

But it’s also not the worst. JJ is going to be the best uncle that baby could possibly want. When the kid is born, there’s nothing JJ won’t do for it. There’d be games of catch in the backyard. Fishing trips on the charter. Surfing lessons at the break. Sandcastles, soccer games, Mario Kart – all of it.

For now, however, it just meant this.

Pent up excitement.

With nowhere to go at 3 AM.

It’s hard to lecture him when his intentions are so good.

“Fine,” she says, relenting in earnest now. She’s too tired, anyway. She can’t fight this even if she thinks she should. “But I’m going to sleep because one of us needs to be sane when the baby is finally born.”

“I’ll watch the phone,” he vows, settling back down on the chair.

She sighs and kisses him. “You’re ridiculous.”

He looks up at her. “They’re having a baby, Kie. An actual baby.”

She wants to roll her eyes. She wants to scoff. She wants to tell him how silly he is.

Except he means it, right? He’s that excited. He’s that genuinely, overwhelmingly excited. For John B and Sarah. For the little baby Pogue.

For himself.

For the future he never thought he’d have and now believes is possible.

“I know,” she says, kissing him again. “I know.”

-o-

By morning, Kiara feels moderately human.

When she finds JJ, he looks decidedly less so.

He’s still on the porch, but he’s stopped pacing. Now he’s sprawled on the swing, head tipped back and phone still in his hands. The look in his eyes is vaguely wild – and strangely muted all the same.

She doesn’t have to check her messages to know. For all JJ’s waiting, there’s no baby Pogue just yet.

“You look terrible,” she says.

He looks at her, and his expression is so forlorn that she almost feels bad.

Almost.

“JJ,” she says, and she lets out a long breath. Going over, she grabs his wrist. “Come on.”

“What?” he asks, the words just vaguely slurred from his lack of sleep.

“You need some food. Some caffeine,” she says. He doesn’t resist as she drags him up, feet shuffling heavily behind her. “Something.”

“I need a baby,” he mutters as she guides him through the doorway.

“Yeah, well,” she says. “That’ll happen soon enough.”

He huffs something incoherent as she sits him down, and she busies herself starting a pot of coffee and rummaging around for some breakfast. She takes a banana for herself and plucks out a power bar for JJ.

“What if it’s all a trick,” he says. “What if she’s not even pregnant and they just wanted gifts?”

“Right,” Kiara says, holding the bar out to JJ. “Because baby onesies and bibs are really tons of fun without a baby.”

The subtlety of that point is lost on JJ in this condition. When he doesn’t take the bar, she puts it down on the table in front of him.

“You just have to be patient,” she says. “We’ll hear something when there’s something to hear.”

He doesn’t love that answer, but he also has no way to argue against it. Sullenly – and a little dejected – he unwraps the bar. Kiara pours them both a cup of coffee, and she sits down to drink it.

Across from her, JJ takes a bite.

That’s when his phone pings.

He almost jumps out of the chair.

“Oh!” he says, picking up his phone and nearly bouncing out of his seat. “It’s from John B!”

Kiara, despite her efforts to be calm and sane, perks up with excitement of her own. “Oh?”

JJ opens the message and stares at it, wide eyed and stupid, for about five seconds.

Then, he blinks.

He shakes his head, brow starting to furrow. “I don’t – he says she’s still in labor,” he says, like he’s reading it off the screen. “She’s five centimeters?”

Kiara puts that together pretty quick. It’s baby 101, after all.

JJ, however, seems not to put it together.

“What the hell?” he says, seething slightly. “Is that the metric system? I thought we were in America! What about inches!”

That’s just – such a thing to say. Kiara gapes at him, utterly dumbfounded for a moment. She loves him, and he’s not stupid.

But yeah. She’s dumbfounded.

“No, that’s not–” she starts, thinking of ways to explain it. She shakes her head. “JJ–”

“I don’t know the metric system!” he says, clearly unhinged from his sheer exhaustion and surging adrenaline. “I barely know our system, and I mean, I’m shit at conversions, man, so I don’t know what that means–”

“It just means she’s not done yet,” she says, measured and even as peels a banana for herself to go with her coffee. “That’s all.”

JJ sinks back a little bit, still breathing a little heavy from his outburst. “But it’s been, like, 12 hours,” he says in a small, tired voice.

Kiara takes a sip of her coffee. “I know,” she says, sipping again. “But first babies sometimes take a long time.”

JJ breaks off a piece of his bar and scowls at it, refusing to eat it. “The damn thing took nine months already. What gives?”

She’s not sure whether she should laugh or scold him. In the end, she’s back to gaping. JJ, at least, seems to catch himself. He shoves half the bar into his mouth and chews sulkily.

“I just can’t keep waiting,” he says, which is the crux of the problem. He manages to shove the rest in there and chews rapidly while he shakes his head. “I want to meet this kid. Like, a lot.”

“I know,” she says and she does. She really does. JJ isn’t great with anticipation under normal circumstances, and he tends to get anxious when he’s about to get something he really wants. She thinks it’s his insecurity, rearing its head even now. Like he’s afraid fate will take it from him before he ever has the chance to hold it.

A childhood marred by poverty, addiction, and abuse.

And all JJ wants is to love his niece or nephew.

“Look,” she says. “I know you don’t believe me, but it could still be a while if she’s only at five centimeters.”

“The metric system, Kie,” he says, far too seriously. “I don’t know that shit–”

She shakes her head. “She has to get to 10,” she says. “That could take one hour or 12.”

“12 more?” he asks, plainly in disbelief.

Kiara shrugs. “She is pushing a baby out–”

He sighs, looking up at the ceiling while he groans. “Oh, come on–”

“My point is,” she says, before she can lose him to a rant or exhaustion or whatever. She waits until he brings his head back around to her and smiles. “You should rest and clean up in the meantime. That way, the second, they are ready, you won’t have anything to do.”

He’s considering that.

She shrugs, and adds. “Plus, you will look human.”

“I thought you said looks didn’t matter,” he tells her coolly.

“Looks, no,” she says. She wrinkles her nose. “But smell–”

“Fine,” he says, getting back from the table with a dramatic flair. “I will take a nap and shower. But the second they text–”

“I will get you,” she promises.

“I swear, Kie–”

“I will get you!” she promises. “After everything, you doubt me now?”

He narrows his eyes. “You told me I smell.”

She gives him a discerning look. “Have you smelled yourself?”

He gives her the finger on the way out and she grins.

-o-

It’s still and quiet when JJ disappears, and Kiara enjoys her coffee and banana in peace while catching up on her phone with social media and the news. Across the island, Pope asks if she’s heard anything. She’s quick to text him back that no, all is quiet as far she knows.

JJ didn’t sleep at all last night, she says.

Why???

Kiara shrugs, even though she’s alone. Too excited I guess.

Pope’s reply back is pretty measured. Like a kid on Christmas morning.

And yeah. That kind of explains it. That kind of anticipation. So deep, so overwhelming. Awaiting happiness with so much intensity that it makes you miserable.

I finally got him to sleep, she texts back.

I know this is John B’s baby, but I think JJ is losing his shit even more than him, Pope says.

That’s true, she thinks. Not that John B isn’t doing his share of freaking out. But for him, it seems like a natural extension. Something he’s been sure about since the moment he first kissed Sarah Cameron coming home from Charleston. Maybe John B’s always known he’d be a dad – a good dad – ever since his own took him on their first treasure hunt together.

John B has his traumas – this much is true. To be like his father without being like his father. To honor his father’s legacy without forgiving all of it. It’s a lot for a kid John B’s age.

But for John B, she’s sure it’s always seemed possible. He’s been poor, and he’s been desperate, but he’s always had his eye on the other side. He dreamed of gold because he knew what it could do for him.

JJ had dreamed of gold because he had nothing else to lose.

It’s a subtle difference between the two, but Kiara understands it better than most. She knows that John B always saw a future for himself.

JJ never did.

So when they think about a baby? John B’s scared, but ready.

JJ doesn’t even know where to start.

It’s amazing, sometimes, watching him find himself. Watching him embrace the future. He’s worked so hard for it, and he deserves it, all of it.

But it’s also an imperfect thing. He’s messy and overly exuberant sometimes. His enthusiasm is almost overwhelming, for her and for him. He doesn’t know what it means – he doesn’t know what to do – and he won’t until the baby is born.

Honestly, none of them will.

This change will be realized for all of them, and soon.

He just wants to see what comes next, I think, she types back finally. We all do.

Not much longer! Pope replies.

Thank God! Kiara agrees. This labor is work for all of us!

-o-

JJ naps for longer than she expects – though not nearly long enough. Within a few hours, he’s up again, looking blearily for an update.

“Seven centimeters,” she reports, based on John B’s latest text.

JJ wrinkles his nose.

Before he can remark on the metric system, she is quick to assure him. “Just three to go,” she says. “Over half there!”

JJ tries to do the mental math on that one, but either the math or the complete lack of knowledge about labor stymie him.

“Take a shower, Jayj,” she orders lightly. “You have just enough time to take a shower.”

“You sure?” he asks, far, far too earnestly.

“It’ll be better for all of us,” she tells him while he glowers. At the insult. At being put off from his baby watch. “Trust me.”

-o-

JJ does trust her, is the thing. He’s trusted her from the start with everything, big and small. He trusted her with his life.

Of course he trusts her with this.

Except, maybe he shouldn’t.

No sooner does JJ turn on the water does Kiara get the next text.

WE’RE PUSHING. BABY IS COMING.

-o-

For a second, all Kiara can do is stare. The message is clear; she knows what it means.

But does she? Does she actually get it?

That across the island, Sarah is in a hospital room, pushing her baby out. John B is standing, an expectant father, waiting for his child to be born. They’re going to be parents. It’s happening. It’s happening now.

Nine months of waiting.

Years of marriage.

A lifetime.

And the future starts now.

Inexplicably, her eyes burn. She has to swallow hard, her fingers shaking as she puts the phone down. She gets up, legs unsteady as she takes a breath, and heads to the bathroom. She knocks and lets herself in. “JJ?” she says. “Hey–”

He peeks around the curtain. “Kie?” he asks. “Is it–?”

All she can do is nod.

All she has to do is nod.

“Shit!” he says, frantically pulling the curtain shut again as he slams the water off with far more force than necessary. She can’t see him behind the curtain, but he sounds like he’s flailing, and he almost trips over the edge of the tub as he bounds out, dripping wet and buck naked. He looks at her, wide eyed. “I’m ready!”

She blinks at him, not sure if she’s supposed to take that seriously. “What?”

“We have to go,” he says.

“Sure,” she says. “After you get dressed.”

He looks down, and looks frustrated by the fact that his dick is hanging out. “Whatever,” he says, snatching a towel from the hook. “The baby’s not going to be wearing clothes.”

“And you’re a full grown man,” she reminds him.

“Fine,” he says, stalking past her to the bedroom. “But if I miss this, I’m blaming you!”

-o-

It takes JJ about two minutes to get dressed. He wants to drive, but Kiara is concerned for their safety so takes her keys instead. JJ sits, bouncing restlessly in the passenger’s seat the whole damn time. When they get there, he’s out the door before she even has the chance to park, and she’s running after him while he jogs inside.

They know the hospital better than they should, but they’ve never been to the maternity floor before. JJ looks vaguely terrified to be there, but he’s immediately relieved when he sees Pope and Cleo already in the waiting room. Pope gets up and they share a hug.

“Anything?” JJ says.

“Nothing,” Pope says.

“But John B’s text–”

“I know!”

“There has to be something!”

From the chair, where Cleo hasn’t moved, she rolls her eyes at them and picks up a magazine. “Babies don’t happen on schedule,” she says. “You have to give it time.”

“I’ve given it time, Cleo,” JJ says. “I’ve given it all the time!”

Cleo shrugs. “Pretty sure that baby doesn’t care what you think.”

JJ looks bereft at that. Pope puts a hand on his arm. “Soon, man. It’s going to be soon.”

Kiara slides past them to sit next to Cleo. “See? There was plenty of time for you to wear clothes.”

He glares at her. “The baby comes first, Kiara,” he says, a little snippy. “The baby has to come first.”

That’s a novel concept.

But, she suspects as she settles down in the seat, it’s one they’re all going to come to terms with very, very quickly.

-o-

Or relatively quickly.

For all that they tell JJ to be patient, it is a wait. The minutes turn to hours, and JJ’s restless pacing doesn’t stop. Pope, for all his smarts, is almost just as bad. Cleo is entirely the opposite, composed and collected. Kiara’s not sure about herself.

She’s not pacing, sure. But she feels it, the anticipation in the pit of her stomach.

Waiting is hard, after all. She had to wait to get emancipated. They had to wait to be rescued from Poguelandia. They had to wait for the gold.

She had to wait through all of JJ’s cancer treatments.

She had to wait for him to wake up after the bone marrow transplant.

Kiara’s spent a lot of time waiting.

But it always pays off.

And this time is no different.

It’s late when John B comes out, but they’re all still there. John B looks wrecked, with unkempt hair and rumpled clothes.

His face, though. The look on his face.

Is absolute, 100% pure joy.

JJ is on his feet first, rushing across the room, Pope right on his heels. Kiara’s not far behind and even Cleo is by her side.

“John B!” JJ says and he stops short, as if controlling himself from hugging him. “Is it – did Sarah – the baby?”

It’s not exactly coherent.

It doesn’t exactly need to be.

“It’s a boy,” John B says, nearly bursting with obvious pride. “We have a boy.”

“A boy?” JJ says. His voice squeaks as he practically jumps. “It’s a boy?”

“A boy?” Pope echoes behind him. “A son?”

John B nods, eyes gleaming and wet. “Booker Cameron Routledge,” he announces. “My son.”

He grins at them, stupid and wide.

“Shit, guys,” he says. “I have a son!”

This time, JJ does whoop and throws himself around John B. Pope hugs him, too, and the three of them make such a scene that the nurses glare.

They don’t care, though. Neither does Kiara. She rushes forward and hugs him too, Cleo joining her. Only after a bit, does JJ ask, “Can we see him?”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding vigorously. “We’d love for you to meet him.”

-o-

There are visiting rules or something, so Pope and Cleo agree to wait their turn. Pope’s a little disappointed, but it’s pretty clear JJ would never be able to wait. In fact, Kiara isn’t sure how she’s ever going to get him to leave. But she’ll deal with that later.

After they meet Baby Booker.

The room is spacious and dimly lit. Sarah is sitting up in the bed, looking exhausted – and giddy. Kiara is so focused on her friend that she almost misses the little bundle she’s holding.

The baby is swaddled tightly, tucked into the hook of Sarah’s arm and cradled against her chest. He’s so secure that it looks like a movie prop at first, but as she gets closer, she can see the little features of the sleeping baby.

“Hey!” Sarah says, her voice low. “You’re here!”

“We’ve been here,” JJ tells her, inching up to the side. For all his excitement, now that he’s here, he seems terrified to get closer. “Waiting.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Sarah says. “Labor is aptly named.”

JJ is too dumbstruck to laugh. “Is that–”

“Booker,” Sarah says, and she looks down at her baby. “This is Booker.”

“Sarah,” Kiara says, moving around to slide her arm around Sarah’s back. John B takes up his post at the end of the bed. “He’s so perfect.”

And he is. The shape of his nose, the curl of his eyelashes. He’s wearing a little blue hat, and his little lips are puckered as he sleeps. He’s so little that he doesn’t look like John B or Sarah. Maybe he looks like every other baby in the world.

But Kiara’s never seen anything more beautiful.

The shock of it – the total awe – steals her breath. Across from her, JJ looks like he may need to sit down.

“Do you want to hold him?” Sarah asks, and she looks right at JJ.

JJ goes pale. “I – what?”

“You can hold him,” Sarah says.

JJ looks at her – then at John B. John B nods in encouragement. “He’s your nephew, man. Hold him.”

JJ looks at Kiara last, and she nods, too, and she watches as he licks his lips and takes a breath. He steadies himself, stepping forward.

Sarah lifts the baby, and JJ is shaking as he holds out his arms.

“Just – support his head,” Sarah says, guiding the bundle into JJ’s arm. She eases the baby’s head into the crook of his elbow. “Easy – easy–”

JJ inhales sharply as she lets go, leaving the baby with him and him alone.

“Perfect,” Sarah says, smiling as she watches. “You’ve got him.”

It’s a thing to watch, really. To see JJ holding Booker. It’s a shaky, uncertain thing.

And it’s so, so right.

JJ is terrified.

JJ is also ready.

JJ is so, so ready.

“Holy crap,” JJ says, almost trembling as he holds himself painfully steady, the infant secure in his arms. “He’s so tiny.”

“Not that tiny,” Sarah says from the bed. “I pushed all 8 pounds out of my–”

“They don’t need the details, babe,” John B cuts her off.

“Sure, because you don’t have stitches down there,” Sarah gripes. “If you did, you’d tell people about it, too.”

John B reddens. Kiara just chuckles, but JJ doesn’t seem to hear them. At all. He’s staring, almost transfixed, at Booker.

“Hey, buddy,” JJ says, rocking the baby slightly. “I’m your Uncle JJ.”

The baby wriggles slightly and JJ holds steady.

“I’m so glad you’re here, dude,” he says. “We’re going to have such a good time together, you and me. I’m going to teach you so much good stuff. All the good stuff.”

“Well, maybe not all the good stuff,” John B interjects.

“It’ll be our secret, okay?” JJ says, and the baby blinks a little now, looking up fully at JJ.

JJ who actually melts.

His eyes are wet now, and his voice is tight. “Our secret, buddy,” he says, bending over to brush a kiss to the baby’s forehead, gentle and sure. “Just you and me.”

It’s a small moment.

It’s a big moment.

It’s a defining moment.

They had wondered how their life would change? This is how.

For the better, Kiara knows now. It’s changing for the better.

-o-

Eventually, JJ hands the baby off to John B. John B holds the infant like an old pro, bouncing him a few times and offering up his finger to suck while he lulls himself back into sleep. JJ does sit down now, dazed and starstruck. She’s about to collect him when John B looks at her.

“Your turn, Kie,” John B says.

“What?”

John B nods at her, nods at the baby. “Do you want to hold him?”

“Oh,” Kiara says. She hasn’t thought about it, probably. She’s not sure why. “I–”

“Here,” John B says, moving the baby toward her and she has no choice but to get her arms up and ready. The baby slips into place, and the weight is so small.

And so heavy all at the same time.

“There you go,” John B says, pulling away his hands and grinning. “There you go.”

She’s not sure if he’s talking to Booker or to her.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter.

Because Kiara looks down at the baby and her whole world stops.

Kiara’s held babies before; she has.

But not like this.

Because this isn’t just a baby. This isn’t a baby cousin she barely knows or one of her parents’ friends’ kids. This isn’t some baby down the street she’s getting paid 9 bucks an hour to watch.

This is Sarah’s baby. This is John B’s baby.

This is a Pogue baby.

Her nephew.

It’s not that babies are impossibly cute. It’s not that they’re small and helpless.

It’s that they’re full of potential.

She’s holding Booker.

And all she can see is the infinite possibilities. The things he could do. The places he could go. The person he could become.

She has a role in that. For better or for worse, she’s part of this little boy’s life. From this day forward, she will watch him grow. She will help him on his journey.

It’s not scary or weird. It doesn’t feel wrong at all.

If anything, it feels good. It feels right.

It feels possible.

When she looks up, her eyes lock with JJ’s. Because he’s felt it, too. The energy, the life, the potential.

Of who Booker will be.

Of who they all will be.

-o-

They stay as long as they can, helping out by getting food and anything else Sarah can think of. After enough time, Sarah needs to focus on feeding the baby, and JJ goes stark white and seems incapable of knowing what to do with the sight of his best friend’s wife’s boobs hanging out. Kiara takes pity on all of them and excuses them, promising to be back in the morning to check up and see how things are going.

JJ’s quiet the whole way back, and Kiara orders pickup, directing JJ to her favorite Chinese place before they make it back to the house. The night is mild, and they sit together on the porch, eating dinner while looking out across the water as it grows darker and more still into the night.

It’s different now. Booker’s not their baby, but it’s different now.

Kiara feels it.

JJ’s the one who says it.

“Man,” JJ says, grinning while he shakes his head. “A baby. John B and Sarah.”

Kiara shrugs, using chopsticks to go in on her food. “I always knew Sarah would. John B, too.”

“Sure, but, it’s just so soon,” JJ says. His disbelief sounds more like awe than anything. He’s not bothering with chopsticks and takes a fork to his fried rice.

“They’re in their 20s, just like us,” she points out, even though she’s had the same thoughts. It’s been a transformation watching Sarah come into it, so confident and sure. It makes her think twice. “We’re not kids anymore.”

JJ thinks about it. Like, actually. “I guess I lose track of it,” he says. He huffs a little. “I feel like I lost 18 months. So maybe none of it counts.”

She gives him a plaintive stare. “That’s not how it works.”

“Do you think about it, then?” he asks, and she thinks the question is long overdue. He’s put it off for her sake this long, and she knows it. But he can’t keep it down anymore. She sees it in him; he just can’t. “About having kids?”

What’s funny is that it’s not as scary as she thought it would be. The question doesn’t make her freeze like she expected.

It just doesn’t.

Not even a little.

She shrugs honestly. “I mean, before this, not really. As a teenager, it just hadn’t been a major consideration. I know people expect that shit, so I never made myself want it,” she explains, and then she shrugs. “I babysat a few times but it was nothing to me. Not like today holding Booker.”

That’s an answer, but she’s not sure it’s the full one. It’s where she started this, but she’s not sure it’s where she is now, honestly. Something has changed in the last six months. A lot has changed, if she’s being honest.

Kiara has let go of meddling in all of JJ’s affairs. She’s pursued her own interests. She’s defined herself, and she’s found confidence in living her own life as a partner with JJ, not a codependent mess.

For all of it, they’re closer than ever. They’re thriving separately and together. She’s never felt so ready to face life than she does right now.

For her, motherhood had always been a consideration for later. It’s occurring to her now that later is getting closer and closer.

It’s a bit of cognitive dissonance for her, surreal enough.

That later might be now.

Sitting across from her, JJ seems to have forgotten his dinner. His expression is different, thoughtful, the way he gets when he’s really thinking something through. “It never made sense to me,” he says, and he tips his head to the side. “Like, how people did it. Being a good parent seems hard as shit.”

It makes her stop, putting her chopsticks down, too. JJ’s honesty can be disarming sometimes, and even now, there are still moments when she has to contend with just how damaged JJ is from his upbringing.

She’d made a point to never assume she’d be a mother, as a matter of principled rebellion.

JJ, though, just has no means to even grasp it. For JJ, it’s not just about wanting a baby or not. He doesn’t even fully understand what a loving family looks like. He’s not just grappling with what he wants. He’s struggling with whether or not he can.

He’s seen good parents, after all; he knows they exist.

But he can’t make it parse. He can’t reconcile his own father’s treatment with the good parents in the world. It’s obviously a coping mechanism. He has to think good parenting is hard in order to justify his own childhood. He has no other means to understand what happened to him.

Honestly, Kiara is reluctant to contradict him. For JJ to acknowledge that most parents are capable of loving their kids is just a painful reality, driving home just how far removed from love he was. JJ doesn’t deserve that. JJ has never deserved any of that, and seeing him like this – so uncertain and vulnerable – makes her second guess her newfound take on second chances.

Because Luke has the luxury of letting go.

And JJ doesn’t.

“Hey,” she says, and she puts her takeout container down to look at him more fully. She wants to ground this conversation in the point that matters. “You’d be a great dad. You know that, right?”

He flushes, clearly caught off guard. He quickly shovels another bite of food in his mouth. “Nah,” he says, shaking his head as he mumbles around his chicken. “I don’t know anything about that shit. I’d do it all wrong.”

“Bullshit,” she says, unflinchingly. Because this isn’t just about what they want. This is about JJ believing it’s possible. “You’re kind and loyal. You’re attentive to the needs of others, and you don’t hesitate to show affection.”

He’s blushing fully now, using his free hand to scratch the back of his head as he diverts his eyes. “That’s just being a good friend,” he mutters. “I mean, it’s not like I have any examples of how to do this parenting shit.”’

“Well, that’s part of it, too,” she says, and she refuses to let this drop. JJ wanted to have this conversation, even if he didn’t know it. “You know what you don’t want to do.”

He makes a face, finally glancing at her just for a second. “I don’t know.”

“But I do,” she says. “JJ, I can’t think of anyone better suited to be a dad than you. You care so much.”

He scoffs, as if she’s speaking utter gibberish. “I doubt that.”

She puffs herself up, refusing to yield even a little on this point. “Well, I don’t.”

He looks at her now, and this time he holds her gaze, keeping his head up. He seems to be assessing her, and her veracity. It’s not that he doesn’t believe her; it’s that he doesn’t believe himself, and JJ will always struggle with that – therapy or not.

Finally, he nods a little, chewing the inside of his lip. “You’d be a good mom, you know.”

It’s her turn to be taken aback. She actually flinches because he says it. All her thoughts, all her growing uncertainty, and JJ just says it. “What?” she asks, trying not to lose her shit.

She’s only partially successful. Her reaction clearly makes him back track. He looks away quickly, and tries to shovel more food into his mouth. “I mean – like. If that’s a thing you even want.”

And they’re back at the start. Back to the crux of it, the question six months in the making. The question they didn’t ask when they found out Sarah was pregnant, the one they can’t avoid now that Booker is in their lives.

Is that what she wants? She’s not some 1950s housewife. She doesn’t define herself by an anatomical ability to procreate. That’s too reductive, and she’s fought so hard to define herself that she can’t possibly pretend to want that narrative foisted upon her.

But can she be so quick to dismiss?

Watching John B and Sarah become parents – holding Booker – is something. Something more than a cliche. Something more than the derivative.

And JJ would be a great father.

In fact, she suddenly can’t imagine him not being one. She can see it now, how much it would mean to him.

And any child would be lucky to have him as their dad.

It’s just – can Kiara be the mother in that equation? Does she want to be?

Is she able to admit the answer to herself after all the progress she’s made?

“I don’t know,” she says softly. The answer is more earnest now. “Like I said, I haven’t thought about it.”

He’s walking it back as quickly as he put it out there. “And it’s cool, right?” JJ says, and the levity in his voice sounds forced. “If it’s just us.”

For some reason, she hesitates.

Does she hesitate for JJ’s sake?

Or does she hesitate for herself?

Because it’s true she’s never pined for motherhood.

But all she wants is a future with JJ. All she wants is a life with JJ.

She wants a life with JJ.

“Yeah,” she says slowly, even less sure with each passing second.

He hears it, because of course he does. When he looks at her this time, there’s something that looks like hope. “You really would be an amazing mom, Kie,” he says. “You’d raise a carbon neutral baby.”

“JJ, you don’t even know what that means,” she admonishes him, but there’s no bite to it.

“I don’t,” he admits. “But you do. And you could do it. You can do anything, if you want.”

If she wants.

If she wants.

That’s it, right? That’s what this is about? She’s been choosing him from the start.

That’s why she walked down the aisle with him. That’s why she’s built this house with him.

Because what the hell? She loves JJ Maybank with all her mind, body, and soul.

Apparently that includes her damn uterus, too.

It makes her heart skip a beat, and it’s her turn to look away. She stares blankly at the food and doesn’t remember how to pick up her chopsticks anymore. “I think there’s more to parenthood than conservatism,” she says, because the whole idea still has her flustered. Not because she doesn’t know how to tell him she doesn’t want it. Because she doesn’t know how to say that maybe – just maybe – she does. “I mean, it’s about loving unconditionally.”

“Well, I think you’ve got that bit down,” JJ says.

She looks at him, and of course that’s the bit he’s totally steady about. “I don’t know–”

“You don’t know? Kie,” he says. “What you did for me? You took care of me when I couldn’t take care of myself. You literally put your whole life on hold to make sure I didn’t give up and die. I quit on myself, but you didn’t quit on me. If that’s not unconditional love, then I don’t know what is.”

It’s a rush of emotion. It’s love and certainty; it’s doubt and fear.

It’s the possibility.

“Maybe,” she says, because she can concede that much. She wants to concede everything, if she’s being honest, but part of her holds onto the uncertainty. “I think I need to figure myself out a little more first.”

“Oh, yeah, hell yeah,” JJ says, and he’s picking up another forkful of food. “I mean. We don’t even know if I can – you know. After all the shit they had me on.”

She’d forgotten, on some level. Maybe by choice.

But one of the side effects of chemo and radiation was diminished sperm counts. Sometimes, it rebounded. Sometimes it didn’t. “You can get tested,” she offers. “And there are options.”

He shrugs, trying to be nonchalant, as if the prospect of being infertile isn’t upsetting to him. “And just, me,” he says. “I have to be right to have a kid. Like, in the head. I’m still a mess.”

“That’s not what your therapist says,” Kiara reminds him, picking up her chopsticks again.

“No, my therapist says I need to continue working on my self actualization skills,” he says. “She also thinks I am holding onto my daddy issues. Which – whatever. I haven’t thought about Luke in years.”

He says it easy-like, but it makes Kiara’s stomach churn. “Well, maybe that’s the problem,” she ventures slowly. “Maybe you should think about it. You know. Make peace.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost in disbelief. “Every time I get close to that bastard, I turn into the same idiot,” he says. He shakes his head in utter surety. “There’s no way in hell I want him near anything in my life.”

“But you’ve changed,” she says. “And, I don’t know. Maybe he’s changed, too.”

But JJ is still shaking his head, chewing and swallowing another bite. “I let that bastard control me for way too long. I let him tell me who I was and what I was worth – and I won’t do that again,” he says, like it’s a vow. “Everything good in my life has been done without him. I don’t need him, Kie. And I sure as hell don’t want him.”

It crushes her a little bit, and it’s all she can do to keep from visibly wilting. JJ doesn’t have any idea. The very marrow in his bone. The blood in his body.

That’s Luke.

That’s all Luke.

She forces herself to swallow, though. She knows why she did it then.

She still knows why she’s doing it now.

“Yeah, of course,” she says quickly, tucking her hair behind her ear and looking at her food with renewed interest. “You don’t owe him anything.”

That’s the point, after all.

Luke was right about that much.

“Beside,” JJ says, fully invested in his food again and grinning. “This whole baby thing. There’s no rush or anything. We have all the time in the world.”

All the time.

All the world.

Kiara takes another bite of her food and doesn’t think about how that’s all thanks to Luke Maybank, too. JJ owes him nothing; Kiara feels like she owes him everything.

He looks at her again. “Like, we’re on the same page, right?”

“Right,” she says, and she musters up a smile.

He can tell she’s faking it, if only a little. “Kie, if you don’t want kids, it’s okay–”

“No, JJ,” she says, shaking her head quickly. “That’s not it. I do.”

“Because I’m good with whatever–”

“JJ,” she says, firmly interjecting now. “I do want kids. We are on the same page.”

He hesitates, not sure what he’s missing.

She’s not sure how to explain it, either.

“I just had never thought about it,” she says, coming up with the only explanation she can. “But now that I have – I mean. It’s weird, right?”

He grins now, the smile spreading across his face. “But not – bad weird?”

It’s a disarming comeback that hits exactly the right note. “Not bad weird,” she agrees. And then – just to be sure – she adds, “Someday.”

He nods in agreement, getting another bite of food on his fork. “Someday.”

Chapter Text

-o-

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

-o-

Someday is a thing now. It’s there, out between them. Every time they visit John B and Sarah, it’s different now. She sees the way JJ looks at Booker, the way his confidence grows every time he holds the baby.

Like he knows.

Like he can see it.

A future for himself.

A future for them.

Kiara holds Booker, too, his little wriggling body. He blinks up at her and coos, and she feels the certainty in her own heart grow, too. He’s this perfect little person, the best of Sarah and John B together. She wonders what her baby would look like, what parts of her, what parts of JJ.

Someday is definitely a thing now.

-o-

It is still someday, though.

For today, there’s plenty to do.

JJ’s still has his hands full with the charter. He’s definitely got a rhythm for it now, but it’s a fast-paced thing. Even splitting the work with Cleo, he’s reaching his breaking point, and he’s starting to wonder if he needs to hire some help. In the office, at the least. Maybe a deckhand. “You have the money,” Kiara points out as they go over the books. Cleo has prepped the documents, clearly in an effort to push JJ to hire someone. “And it would probably boost your productivity. The right person would almost pay for themselves.”

JJ, though, looks uncertain. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t want to divide my profits.”

“JJ, if you don’t invest in growth, you’ll ensure decline,” she says.

“That sounds like capitalistic bullshit,” he says with a frown.

She chuckles, even as her cheeks redden. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“Who the hell are you and what did you do with my wife?” he jokes.

She rolls her eyes, tapping at the numbers again. “It’s not just about the money, though,” she says. “It’s quality of life, right? You’re working yourself ragged.”

“But I have to work hard,” JJ says. “I mean, I can’t slack off. I’m not going to work odd jobs and just make ends meet. I’m not.”

Not like his dad, is what he doesn’t say.

He doesn’t have to. She knows.

She also knows Luke has a steady job on the mainland.

It’s crazy, right?

That both JJ and Luke can get it right.

“JJ,” she says, because she loves him. She just does. “You don’t have to work 12 hour days to prove that you’re not your dad.”

He clamps his mouth shut and doesn’t say anything.

“And besides,” she says, because she knows how to convince him in the end. “We have money for someday. We’re going to need time for someday, too.”

The realization settles over him.

Someday, right?

Someday.

JJ nods, clearly nervous. “You think?”

“I know,” she says. “Put out the ad.”

-o-

JJ puts out the ad, and Cleo hires someone within a week. Within another month, they’ve hired someone else. The charter is still thriving.

And so is the nonprofit. JJ’s business is reaching a settling point, but Kiara’s still having to put in long hours to get hers stabilized. It’s busy, but it’s good.

It’s good.

-o-

Someday, if Kiara is thinking about the future, she has to think about the past, too. She is talking to her parents, and she knows it. Her dad walked her down the aisle, and her mother has been nothing but kind and supportive.

If someday is a thing, then she has to decide if they’re a part of it.

If they are, then Kiara needs to let them be a part of now.

It’s clear they’re ready. They’re showing up when Kiara lets them.

Now Kiara just needs to ask.

She doesn’t know, though. So she asks JJ first.

“Yeah,” he says, like it’s nothing. “Invite them over for dinner.”

She makes a face, and she’s not sure why. “That would be weird, right?” she says. “Them being here.”

JJ looks around the house, clearly not sure what she means. “Did I do a shitty job and you’re just now telling me?”

“No,” she says. “It’s just – this is our house. I have to trust them.”

“Okay, okay,” he says, because he gets that. “So the house is too personal. So we do it on neutral ground. I mean, we can do it at their place. The Wreck?”

She wrinkles her nose. “I want this to be our thing, though,” she says. “Our terms.”

He shrugs. “Then, let’s do the boat.”

“What?”

“We’ll take them out on the charter,” he says. “I’ll shut down the bookings for a day next month, and we’ll take them out. We’ll have food and drinks, get the fishing lines out. I’ll show them the water like they’ve never seen it before.”

It’s not a bad idea. Honestly, it’s better than she might have thought. She’s struggled to put these pieces together, and here JJ is just throwing it out there. Completely nonchalant, open to spending the day with his in-laws, as if they didn’t tell him he was a bad influence who wasn’t welcome in their home.

Forgiveness is a crazy thing. Kiara’s not sure she fully understands it either.

They had her kidnapped.

And now she’s going to invite them out on the water for a full day.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “I mean, that’s an all day commitment.”

He seems totally indifferent. “Why not?”

“Because they were horrible to you. They were horrible to me,” she reminds them.

“I mean – yeah,” he says, but he sounds wholly unimpressed. “But holding grudges is exhausting. Let it go – or let them go, right?”

Right.

Like it’s that easy.

He sighs, and seems to accept that she needs further affirmation. “Look, Kie, it’s up to you,” he says. “I’ve told you. This is totally on your terms, always and forever. If you want it, then do it. If you don’t, screw them. But we’re not going to hold back because of me. You just need to decide.”

It’s a simple thing, the way he says it.

It’s so obvious.

And yet – so impossible. “Every time I think I’m over it, I just keep going back,” he says. “They watched as those assholes put me in the car. I was calling out for them – crying. And they didn’t do anything.”

“I know,” JJ says. “That’s beyond Kook shit.”

“But I don’t know,” Kiara says, and she shakes her head. “I was running away. I was lying to them. They’ve apologized, and I think they mean it. You think they mean it?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I mean, they’ve made every effort, right?”

She bites her lip. “They showed up at the nonprofit. They’ve respected all my boundaries,” she says.

JJ nods in agreement. “And they’re still sending me birthday cards,” he says, like that’s a big thing. “I’m counting on those 100 bucks every year.”

“JJ–”

“I know, I’m kidding,” he says. “But it’s like time to shit or get off the pot.”

“Really?” she asks.

“Or something,” he says. “I don’t know what that means. Does it work?”

“You know,” she says. “It might.”

“I saw it on a meme,” he says.

She rolls her eyes again. “No, you’ve got it used correctly.”

“It may just be about bowel movements–”

“JJ,” she says, firm enough to stop him. “Shut up.”

He shuts his mouth, ever earnest.

“You’re right,” she says, decided now. “I’m going to text them.”

“Damn,” JJ says, getting his phone out. “Now I have to take a shit–”

Kiara rolls her eyes and gets out her phone.

-o-

Making the invite is easy. Her parents accept without hesitation. The rapid turn of events is perhaps not unexpected, but Kiara still nearly loses her nerve. It’s only when JJ suggests that he takes care of the details that she’s able to relax.

He plans a boat outing, taking them on a tour of some of the best spots just off the island. They can fish, look for dolphins – all that shit. And he’ll bring the equipment needed to cook up the fish they catch right then and there.

By his logic, there will be time and space to talk if things are going well, but there’s enough shit to get done on the boat that they can busy themselves if things go south.

“And if it’s really bad, I mean, we have the whole damn ocean,” he suggests. “I’ve heard plenty of stories about dumping bodies at sea.”

“JJ!”

“Like, if I hadn’t paid back Barracuda Mike, I’d probably be there,” he says.

She shoves him playfully.

“It’s just a last resort, Kie,” he says solemnly.

“Murder? That’s your last resort?” she retorts.

“For you,” he vows. “Anything.”

She rolls her eyes but can’t stop herself from grinning.

-o-

This is Kiara’s thing, but JJ handles all the details. He doesn’t make a big deal about it; he doesn’t make fun of her for being wishy-washy about it all. He is almost effortlessly supportive, prepping the boat, the food, the supplies, the fishing gear.

She sits and watches, worrying the whole time.

“It’ll be great, Kie,” he assures her. “I promise.”

And Kiara knows, more than anything, that JJ keeps his promises to her.

-o-

The day before the outing, JJ is putting away some paperwork. It’s just by chance that he sees the forgotten offer. It’s even more chance that JJ reads it at all. He picks it up, and skims it again before turning to look at her. “Hey, what’s this?”

He sounds surprised — maybe.

Not mad.

Not skeptical.

Confused.

Her face immediately flushes. JJ isn’t blaming her for anything, but she feels guilty anyway. And she doesn’t know why.

Because she’s scared to take it? Because she’s scared not to take it?

Because she’s scared he’ll say no?

Because she’s scared he’ll say yes?

He looks at her, still waiting. “Kie?”

“Just some offer,” she says, words half mumbled as she swipes the paper from him. “It’s nothing.”

The way she says it’s nothing plainly indicates it is. She knows it, but she also can’t change the way she feels or how easily JJ sees through her.

“What kind of offer?” he asks.

“Nothing,” she says, trying to put the paper down in what she hopes is a discreet manner. But the more she tries to make it not a big deal, the bigger of a deal it inevitably seems.

JJ knows it, too. He knows her. “Kie–”

She sighs, a bit too dramatic. “Just a partnership offer from a nonprofit on the mainland,” she says, and the explanation seems to put her out more than she can explain. “They’d help fund an expansion if I organize some of their events.”

She sees his mind working that out, which is more than she wants. He’s not great with legalities, but he’s got an innate sense of what business should be. Mostly, he’s not dumb and he can pick up on what she’s not saying: this is a good offer.

“Like, is the other nonprofit legit?” he asks.

She sighs, but there’s no graceful way not to answer. “Yeah, they’re established and reputable. One of the best known on the coast.”

She says it like it’s nothing.

JJ immediately discerns, however. It’s not nothing.

He picks up the paper even though she grabs for it.

“And it’s not a buyout or something?” he says. He’s skimming it now, looking for clues. “You get to retain control.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she says, reaching for it again. “It would be a partnership, not a merger.”

He doesn’t let her take it this time, turning away while he continues reading it. He’s a slow reader – dyslexic is the official diagnosis, finally obtained during their study sessions for their GEDs after El Dorado. But he’s persistent when he wants to be.

For her, he wants to be now.

She doesn’t regret giving him the tools to read better. But it is unfortunate right now when she wants him not to see.

“Kie,” he says and he looks surprised when he looks at her. “I know we have to have the lawyer review this and shit, but this looks like a good offer.”

She doesn’t know what to say, and her mouth is suddenly dry.

“A really good offer,” he says, like he’s struggling to understand. When she still can’t form words, he looks lost. “Why haven’t you told me about it?”

There’s a vulnerability in that question. The vaguest hint of betrayal.

Her cheeks are going red. “I don’t know.”

He’s upset she hasn’t said anything.

She’s upset he’s saying something now.

Basically, everyone’s upset, and Kiara wants to be anywhere but here.

JJ, though, just keeps looking at her. “You should do it,” he says, and he holds the paper back out to her. “Like, this. You should take this offer.”

“You just said it, we haven’t even had the lawyer look at it,” she counters, even though that’s clearly not the point either of them are trying to make.

“But you haven’t,” he says. “Why don’t you want to?”

“I don’t know,” she says again, snatching the paper from him with something like desperation. She glances at it. “I guess I don’t know if I really want to do it.”

Her answer is honest, at least. She doesn’t know if she wants it.

Of course, she also hasn’t put any thought into figuring out why. Why she would resist the best offer she’s ever had. The best offer she’s ever going to have. A unicorn offer of sheer perfection for her, her organization, and her cause.

She’s such an idiot.

“Why not?” JJ asks, because there’s no way this conversation can mercifully be over.

“It’s just such a big leap,” she says, and it sounds pathetic when she says it.

JJ is watching her, like he’s waiting for more. “And?”

Flustered now, she shrugs. “What if I’m not ready?” she says. “What if I crash and burn?”

Realization dawns on his face. He seems to be putting it together in real time: this isn’t about him.

This is about Kiara.

Just that fast, his expression softens. The hurt is gone. The betrayal vanishes. Now, he’s just concerned. “Kie, that’s dumb,” he says, taking a step closer. He reaches out, a gentle hand on her arm. “You were born ready.”

She lets herself lean into his touch. “You think?”

He lifts his other arm to brace her fully. “Kie, I know.”

She melts, then, right into his arms. She lets him hold her, stroking her hair. She breathes out against his chest, closing her eyes as she feels the steady rhythm of his heart. It’s reassuring. It’s grounding. It’s everything.

Finally, she looks up at him, and he’s already looking at her.

“It’s just a lot,” she says softly. “I guess I was scared to think about things changing.”

“It’s not scary if we do it together,” he says.

“Your promise?” she says, needing the reassurance.

He offers it freely, kissing her. “I promise.”

And JJ’s promises, she knows, are better than gold.

-o-

It’s a topic of discussion now, and Kiara knows she can’t avoid it forever.

But she can avoid it for now.

After all, a day with her parents out on the boat?

That’s a big deal. For all of them.

Naturally, she panics about that, too.

“Maybe we should call it off,” she says as JJ is loading up the car that morning.

“I bought, like, two hundred dollars worth of supplies,” he says, grunting as he lifts another cooler into the bed of his truck.

She fidgets with her rings, shaking her head. “I could tell them I’m sick.”

He gives her a look. “I cleared my entire schedule for a day,” he reminds her.

Anxiously, she tucks her hair behind her ear. “They probably don’t even like boating.”

Now, he’s just incredulous. “You dad owns, like, three boats,” he says.

“So he’s tired of them,” she argues.

He rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Kiara.”

“We can reschedule,” she says.

“Kiara–”

“To never–”

“Kie!” he says, taking her by the arms until she stops and looks at him. When he’s sure he has her full attention, he speaks with care. “We are going on this trip, okay? Your parents are going to have a good time. I am going to have a good time. There’s no reason you can’t have a good time, too, but you have to stop overthinking this shit.”

She blinks rapidly a few times, her breath catching in her throat. “But–”

“I get it, you’re scared,” he says. “Out on the boat all day, just the four of us. That’s a lot. And your parents haven’t always been the best to you or to me.”

“So why are we doing this, then?” she asks.

His grip is steady, and his gaze doesn’t waver. “Because second chances,” he says. “They don’t mean shit unless you see them through.”

There’s nothing she can say to that. Because he’s right.

JJ’s living a second chance.

She’s forgiven Luke.

She’s rebuilt her own life.

There’s no guarantee of anything, but not trying is worse than giving up. You have to live it. You just do.

She nods finally, swallowing hard. “Okay,” she says. “We’ll do this.”

A smile widens on his face and he kisses her. “Of course we will,” he says, stepping back to load the last of the gear. “Two hundred dollars, Kie. Did I mention that?”

It’s her turn to roll her eyes as she grabs something to throw in, too. “Just once or twice.”

-o-

Kiara is still nervous as shit, but JJ’s confidence helps her get through it. It’s awkward, meeting up with her parents at the pier, and the small talk is especially painful as JJ preps the boat. She’s grateful when JJ asks her dad to help him, leaving her just with her mom.

“I’ve been so looking forward to this,” her mother says. “I texted JJ and asked what I could bring, but he said he had it all under control.”

“Yeah,” Kiara says. “He’s, um. Big into this stuff.”

“It is his job,” her mother says. She leans forward with a smile. “But I think he’s giving us the VIP treatment.”

“Well, you’re family,” Kiara points out. It’s a dumb thing to say to one’s mother, but here she is. Saying really dumb shit.

Her mom, though, seems to love that. “I’ll take that,” she says, almost proud. Then, she leans forward again, almost conspiratorially. “Don’t tell JJ, but I did make him a batch of those cookies he loves. I snuck them into my bag.”

“You – what?” Kiara asks.

Her mother shrugs. “Like you said. We’re family.”

And yeah, she decides.

That is a reason to smile after all.

-o-

For all the awkward small talk, it is a beautiful day to be out on the water. JJ has the whole outing planned, from each fishing hole to the on-the-spot grilling on deck. For lunch, they eat freshly caught fish grilled up simpler than her dad would make but cooked to perfection.

The sides are simple, too, with chips and pop and beer, but it’s fun and it’s casual, and she sees the way her father’s eyes light up on the water or the way her mother laughs a little more freely when she’s truly relaxed.

Her mom breaks out the cookies afterward, and JJ is so excited he nearly eats the entire batch. This delights her mother, and JJ eats so much Kiara worries he’ll be sick.

When he’s done and has the deck cleaned up, he stretches and looks out across the water. “It’s kind of up to you,” he says to Kiara’s parents. “I was thinking about taking you on the full tour just to give you the full experience. But if you’re ready to go back–”

“Oh, we’d love to see it!” her mother says. “We hear about it all the time from our customers.”

Her father stands, shoulder to shoulder with JJ, giving him a pat on the back. “It’s your boat, JJ,” he says with a deference too real to be contrived. “Show us what she’s got.”

She sees it, the way that settles over JJ. The way the acceptance changes him.

It’s true, JJ forgave her parents long before she did.

But forgiveness isn’t the same as acceptance.

Acceptance isn’t the same thing as family.

Second chances can be scary, Kiara knows. But sometimes – just sometimes – they pay off exactly the way you want them to.

-o-

The thing is, for all of Kiara’s trepidation, it’s the perfect day. The weather is perfect; the seas are idyllic. The fish are biting, and JJ’s in fine form. Her parents are not just polite; they’re fully relaxed.

Her parents start to let go, and Kiara sees them as parents.

And JJ?

Well, JJ shines.

He’s the perfect host. He’s the ideal captain.

He’s the son-in-law they didn’t know they wanted.

And Kiara has never loved him more.

-o-

On their way back, Kiara sits with her mother on the deck, lounging on some chairs. Her dad goes up to talk to JJ behind the controls. She can hear them chatting, easy and familiar. Sharing stories about boating, the water, fishing, the Cut. All of it.

Next to her, her mother sighs contentedly. “This really has been a perfect day, Kiara.”

At this point, Kiara can’t disagree. “I’m glad you had fun,” she says. She glances back when she hears her dad roar with laughter. “I’m glad he’s having fun.”

Her mother chuckles, like she’s not surprised. “It was only a matter of time,” she says. “Once your father got over his damn pride, I knew they’d always get along.”

The thought of it makes Kiara scoff. “Dad has literally hated JJ since the first time I brought him home.”

“Of course,” she says. “Because JJ? Reminds him of himself.”

“What?” Kiara says, making a face. “JJ and Dad are nothing alike.”

Her mother raises her eyebrows. “Kiara, they are exactly alike.”

“No way,” Kiara says, unable to imagine it.

“You’re not the only one who fell in love with a bad boy from the Cut,” her mother says diffidently, settling back on her lounger keenly.

Kiara’s mouth drops.

Her mother turns her head to grin at her. “If your nana were still here, she’d tell me I told you so,” she says. Then, she lowers her voice. “But Nana was kind of a judgmental old Kook. I swore to myself I’d never be like her.”

Kiara has to laugh at that. “You always say nice things about your nana.”

“Sure, because you can love someone and still know they’re flawed,” she says. She pauses, then, quieter now. “And it does get harder, Kiara. Sometimes, making the right choice isn’t as easy as you think it is. Sometimes you make mistakes.”

Like Kitty Hawk.

Like emancipation.

Kiara nods. “And sometimes you get a second chance,” she says, giving it like a peace offering between them.

One her mother is only too ready to take. “Thank God for second chances, right?” she says, grinning.

Kiara nods and grins back. “Thank God.”

-o-

They’ve been out all day – longer than Kiara imagined – but no one is ready when they finally do anchor down for the night. JJ makes short work of closing up the boat, but her parents are all too willing to linger, offering to help clean up.

JJ assures them he’s got it, it’s fine.

“You just did so much for us today, JJ,” her mother says. “How can we ever make it up to you?”

JJ blushes, rocking back on his heels. “I’m just glad you had fun,” he says.

“We had more than fun,” her mother enthuses, turning to her dad.

To Kiara’s surprise, her father grins. “A lot more than fun.”

JJ looks duly pleased. “Then, we’ll have to do it again.”

“Just name the date,” her father says. “We’ll be there.”

“And next time, I’ll bring two batches of cookies,” her mother teases. “So we can all have some.”

JJ is just marginally chagrined. “It’s not my fault you make the best damn cookies on the island,” he says. “Better than the ones from the nurses in the cancer ward.”

“Oh, wow,” Kiara says. She nods at her mom. “That’s high praise.”

“Then I’ll make it three,” her mother says, clearly pleased. She hesitates, but reaches out to hug JJ. JJ goes just momentarily stiff at the contact – he’s come a long way, but physical touch outside the Pogues can still be difficult for him – but he eases up almost immediately.

Her mother lingers, rubbing a hand on his back, and then pulls away and turns to Kiara. When she offers a hug, Kiara doesn’t hesitate. “Thanks for coming, Mom.”

“Thanks for having us,” she says, and she pulls away.

Behind her, she sees her father face JJ, man to man. He holds out his hand.

JJ goes still again. The hug was hard. But the handshake clearly terrifies him.

He takes it anyway. He holds the grip and maintains eye contact.

Because JJ can give second chances.

It turns out, he can accept them, too.

This is, Kiara decides, what they call a happy ending.

The happiest.

For everyone involved.

-o-

They see her parents off, waving at them multiple times as they disappear up the pier and into the growing dimness. When their car finally pulls away, JJ turns back to the boat with a sigh. “Got to clean her up,” he announces apologetically. “You can head back, if you want. I can find a ride back.”

That’s excessively dumb. He won’t find a ride. He’ll walk back or just sleep here, and no. Kiara’s not having it.

“I can help,” she says.

“Nah,” he says.

“JJ, you did everything today,” she reminds him.

“It was nothing,” he deflects.

She takes him by the hand until he looks at her. “JJ,” she says certainly. “It was everything.”

He looks at her for a long moment until he seems to get it. He nods. “We just need to secure the deck, then,” he says. “I can probably stop in early tomorrow to finish the cleaning.”

“If you’re sure–”

“Yeah,” he says, taking her by the hand. “I’m sure.”

-o-

Working together, they clear the deck in about five minutes. There are a few more simple tasks to do before JJ locks up the boat – and the shack – and they load up a few things in the truck to head back home.

JJ’s at the wheel this time, and all she can do is watch him as they navigate the streets back home. Exhausted as he is, he’s focused on the road, taking each turn, each curve with care. It amazes her, sometimes. That he’s hers.

JJ Maybank is hers. Her boy. Her man. Her husband.

She knows he thinks he’s the lucky one. She knows he thinks he married up.

But he’s wrong.

She’s the lucky one.

She can’t take her eyes off him, because she is, without a doubt, the luckiest damn person on this planet.

-o-

It’s dark by the time they pull into the drive, and Kiara is a little sad, actually. She doesn’t want the day to be over, if she’s honest.

JJ climbs out, though, unloading a few things from the back. Kiara helps out, taking some of it inside to the kitchen, and JJ’s not far behind.

“I’m wiped,” he says, brushing past her to push the empty cooler on the counter. “I rinsed this out back on the ship, so it’ll keep until morning–”

She’s not listening, though. She’s just watching him as he moves.

He opens the fridge, rummaging through it. “You want something to drink?” he says. “I can grab us some beers, and we can sit down and watch that documentary you’re into. The one about the whales or whatever?”

He turns around, two beers in hand, as the door shuts behind him. His expression is expectant.

He has no idea, is the thing. How amazing he is. How much she loves him.

How hot he is.

She loves him; she wants him.

“No?” he says, holding up the beers with a shrug. “It’s just an idea–”

She crosses over, closing the distance between them. Before he can put the beers down, she catches him in a kiss – hard and deep.

Enough to catch JJ off guard. He yelps a little, but the sound is smothered by her lips. And she feels him shudder slightly as he closes his eyes and moans instead. When she pulls back, he’s flushed in the face and breathless. “So the beers–?” he ventures.

She removes them from his hand and puts them on the counter behind him. By the time she turns back and grabs him, driving him back to the counter as she kisses him, they’re all but forgotten. The kiss is deep enough that she sees stars, and she’s already starting to sweat as he pulls away for air.

“Well, shit,” he says, panting a little. “That’s better than a beer and some lame-ass documentary.”

“The documentary is life changing,” she chides him, but she nods, keeping him where he is, pressed against the counter. “But yeah. I think I have something better planned.”

She drives him back with another kiss, and JJ grunts as he braces himself. She doesn’t need much encouragement as she forces her way up until he’s holding her in his arms and she’s breathing hot and heavy.

He blinks at her, wide-eyed. “You really do have something better planned, don’t you?”

She runs her mouth along his chin and ear. “You have no idea.”

Her fingers tug at the nape of his neck, locking in his hair until his breath catches. “Kiara,” he says – he breathes. “I – what?”

He’s fumbling now – and badly. The look on his face is written with surprise, but she can tell by the look in his eyes that it’s not a surprise he doesn’t like.

In fact, she knows he wants her to keep going. “You gave me all day,” she says. “The least I can do is give you all night.”

His mouth drops open, and the look of shock is almost comical at this point. “I – okay,” he says. He wets his lips, clearly starting to tremble. “But, like, that’s not why I did it.”

“I know,” she says. Because she knows. She does. “That’s why it matters so much.”

She presses toward him again, crushing her lips against his until he moans. Her hands do the rest of the work, making short work of his shorts as his legs threaten to give out beneath him. “Oh, shit,” he says, panting now. “Are you trying to kill me?”

She smirks at him. “Just the opposite, Jayj,” she says and she gets back to work. “The very opposite.”

-o-

They start in the kitchen, but they don’t end up there. It’s a process that takes them all over the house until their trail of destruction leads them to the bed, where JJ collapses next to her, totally spent.

Now, it’s fair to say, in Kiara’s estimation, that their sex life has always been good. She knows she’s pretty happy with it, and honestly, JJ never has any complaints. As busy as they are – and they are busy – they’ve always made time for that.

There’s nothing like nearly dying that makes living quite so poignant.

And exhilarating.

She feels like she could run a marathon, if she’s honest. It’s a high unlike anything she’s ever experienced before. It’s pretty clear, though, that JJ’s done. Eyes half-lidded, he’s still on his back from where they finished, and he doesn’t answer when she asks if he wants her to run the shower for him.

It’s funny, really. JJ’s always been a natural protector; it’s just who he is. And early on, when she was going through the shit with her parents, she’d leaned into that as hard as she could. That was why it was so easy to move in with him. She had known, no matter what they faced, they could face it together with his strength.

At the time, she’d thought it indefatigable.

Cancer had proven her wrong, of course.

She hates cancer for what it did to JJ, but she can’t pretend like it hasn’t helped her find herself. In JJ’s weakness, her own strength had been rallied. And she’d realized what JJ had known all along: you protect your family.

That’s all that matters. You put them first – always.

She’ll protect JJ every day for the rest of her life. When he needs it, and when he doesn’t. When he wants it – and when he fights her every step of the way.

He’s not fighting now, at least. After cleaning herself up, she cleans him up, too, and then she lays in the bed next to him, drawing him close to her and wrapping her arms around him. His head lolls on her chest as she smooths back the blonde strands. It takes him some time to come back around, but time is a luxury they can indulge these days.

Kiara has to remind herself of that. When things are busy. When life demands her attention.

They have time.

He curls himself around her, lifting himself up to nuzzle her neck. “Shit, Kie,” he says, and he’s still almost breathless from it all. “What the hell did I do to deserve that?”

She can’t help it if she grins a little. Their sex life has always been good. But there’s no doubt, that one was especially good. “Well,” she muses, nuzzling him back, stroking his hair. “You’re amazing.”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Okay.”

But she refuses to let that point be dismissed. “No, you are,” she says, pulling back a little until he has no choice but to meet her gaze.

He looks a little taken aback by the intensity of her gaze. If anything, he looks confused. “I didn’t do anything.”

There’s no way to hide her incredulity at that statement. “That fact that you can spend all day out on the open water with my parents – who hated you once and made no secret of it – and say that only proves my point.”

He eases back and rolls his eyes, as if she’s making much ado about nothing. “They’re your family,” he says simply. “So they’re my family.”

“They were terrible to you,” she reminds him. “How can you let that go so easily?”

He wrinkles his nose, like he hasn’t even thought about it. “There was a bigger picture,” he says. “Loving you is more important than hating them. And besides, people can make mistakes. If I didn’t believe in second chances, then how the hell would I have everything I have?”

He’s so ridiculous, her boy. That’s not even the therapy talking. JJ’s always had that ability to forgive the people closest to him. It’s almost second nature to him.

Part of that is the mentality of someone who’s been abused, yes.

But some of it is just JJ. And the innate strength he has to love people.

“I love you,” she says, because that’s it, in the end. That’s just it.

That’s all JJ wants, is the thing. It’s all he’s ever wanted. “I love you, too, Kie.”

-o-

JJ’s ability to accept her family is a big deal.

Kiara doesn’t really know how to return the favor.

Is she still doing the right thing keeping the truth about Luke from him? Should she finally tell him? Or would that second chance be too hard for JJ to handle? Would it undo all the progress he’s made?

The reasons for keeping the secret are all still the same. They all still matter – now, maybe more than ever. JJ has built so much for himself. She can’t put that in jeopardy. Can she?

Or would she be providing him the closure he’s so desperately wanted since childhood?

She’s made the hardest decisions of her life – of JJ’s life – and she’s done it without regrets. But this one still paralyzes her. Mostly because it shouldn’t be hers. It shouldn’t have to be hers.

JJ is happy and healthy and whole –

And that’s it, right?

JJ’s happy and healthy and whole. There’s not much for him to gain by untangling the complex reality of Luke’s role in his life. This is best for JJ. He’s not looking for his dad, and as far as Kiara knows, Luke’s not looking for him.

Her doubt, though, is enough for her to write him again.

She’s not sure what she wants to say – is trying to do. She doesn’t want anything from Luke; there’s nothing to ask.

So she just tells him everything.

She tells him about JJ, about how well he’s doing with the charter. She tells him about the house, and the work they’ve done to make it the perfect home. She tells him about her own nonprofit and the progress she’s made.

She tells him that things are good.

She tells him how things are very, very good.

Whether he needs to know – or whether she just needs to tell him – Kiara isn’t sure anymore.

She sends the letter anyway.

-o-

The letter in reply comes faster than she expects. Honestly, she’s not sure what she’s expecting, but Luke replies within a week.

He makes a few notes about the news she provided – he’s glad the business is going well and that her nonprofit thing is good. The house always had good bones, so he’s not surprised about that. And JJ’s the best there is on the water, always has been, so–

After that, he provides a few updates of his own. He’s still clean and a regular at AA. Just this past year, he sponsored someone else in the program. He says that seems like bullshit to him, but what else is he going to do?

He ends by saying he’s looking for a new job, but the market is shit for someone with a record. He’s trying to get enough references, so maybe he has a shot. He’d like to move out of the hellhole, if he could. It’s not so much the accommodations as it is the neighbors. There’s a crack den a few doors down and that’s not exactly easy.

When Kiara reads the letter, she responds within minutes.

I’ll be your reference, she writes. I can vouch for you.

She sends a letter anyway. And she gives him permission to share her number.

Because she may not be sure JJ is ready to spend more time with his dad.

But she’s completely sure Luke is ready to work a better job.

Second chances, after all, make a difference.

-o-

Kiara goes ahead and writes another letter. This one is one to potential employers, vouching for the effort Luke has made in recent years. She doesn’t skirt over his past with substance abuse or the law – while avoiding too many specifics – but she reiterates the choices he’s made. In the end, she says the thing she knows to be true: Luke Maybank has been a positive influence in her life, and she doesn’t know where she’d be without him. She’s trusted him with the most important thing in her life, and she has not been let down.

She ends with her phone number and email address, encouraging them to contact her for more information.

She includes a small note to Luke, just to explain.

Send this along with your application. See if it helps.

-o-

She doesn’t hear back from Luke.

She does, however, hear back from the employer. It’s a man who owns a machine shop, a small operation in the outskirts of Charleston. He’s gotten a few big contracts lately, and he’s looking for good help to keep up with his growing demand. There aren’t a lot of applicants, and Luke’s experience does stand out.

“But I’m sure you understand,” he says over the phone. “Why I’m hesitating.”

The whole part about being a felon, she’s sure. He doesn’t even know how deep his addictions run or what kind of parent he’s been to his only son.

She knows why he’s hesitating because it still makes her hesitate, every damn time.

Every time she thinks about JJ, she hates Luke – and is grateful to him all the same.

“I get it,” she says. “And I don’t blame you.”

The man takes a breath. “Why don’t you tell me how you know Luke. I can see that you run a conservation nonprofit on the Outer Banks. Has Luke been involved?”

“Not directly, no,” she says. “My connection with him is more personal.”

“Oh,” he says, sounding vaguely disappointed.

So Kiara quickly follows up. “He’s technically my father-in-law,” she says.

“I don’t usually use personal references–” he starts.

“Understandably, but my relationship with Luke – isn’t that simple,” she says. “Luke is estranged from his son.”

There’s a pause. “And you’re still vouching for him?”

“My husband doesn’t even know I’m making this call,” she says.

The sound on the other end is muffled with frustration. “I appreciate your time, Ms. Carrera–”

“Just – let me explain,” she says before he can hang up. “Luke has done some horrible things in his life. He’s made countless mistakes. And no one knows it better than he does.”

This time, the line is silent as she musters her will to continue, to parse it out.

“For the things he’s done, he doesn’t deserve a second chance with his son,” she says finally. “But I think he’s shown he’s ready for a second chance in the rest of his life.”

“And how’s that?” the man asks, but this time there’s a note of curiosity.

“Because he’s been clean and out of trouble with the law for four years,” she says. “And more than that, he’s finally learned to put other people first. He wants this job. He wants a second chance. And he knows he probably won’t get another one.”

Over the line, the man sighs, long and hard. “Frankly, Ms. Carrera, I have all kinds of doubts, but I’m also desperate. If I didn’t really need a worker, I wouldn’t be on this call,” he says. “With all the red flags in his resume – and all the things you know about him personally – would you still tell me to do this?”

“I would be careful and keep an eye on him. If you can afford it, I wouldn’t shy away from drug testing as a means of keeping him accountable,” she says. “But yes. If it were me, I would hire him, given what I’ve seen about him and what I know of him.”

“Everything I can see makes me think he’s a bad guy,” the man hedges.

“Everything you can see should make you think he was a bad guy,” she agrees. “But he could be a better one tomorrow.”

“I don’t suppose I can hold you to it,” the man says with a chuckle.

Kiara laughs back. “Luke’s choices are his own. But I gave him a chance, and he didn’t let me down when it mattered most. That’s all I can tell you for sure.”

-o-

Two weeks later, she gets another note. Luke tells her he got the job – and he just cashed his first paycheck.

Thought about going to the track – or the liquor store. But I don’t want to let my boss down, I guess.

And then, his final thought.

I don’t want to let you down.

-o-

Things are good with Luke, her parents, her business – but not everything is good. That’s how life is, and Kiara knows it. She also knows how bad bad can be, so she tends to keep perspective.

Still, she can’t let cancer be the measuring stick forever.

Some things still get to be bad.

At least, that’s the conclusion she comes to when Cleo comes and tells her they need to talk. She invites Cleo inside, noting that it’s weird to see her in the mid-afternoon when she’s usually at work. JJ is surely out on a tour – which means –

Well, she doesn’t know what it means.

So she offers Cleo a drink and they sit down on the porch together. Cleo doesn’t touch the drink but sits forward with a sigh. “I need to talk to you about the charter.”

It’s such a dire sounding thing that Kiara’s stomach is already tightening into knots. “What’s wrong with the charter?”

“Rafe,” she says flatly.

Kiara’s breath catches as she tries to compute that and fails. “Rafe?”

She wants to be relieved, but the look on Cleo’s face tells her otherwise. “That boy has got serious issues.”

“You have no idea–”

“No, I think I might,” Cleo says. “He’s making more and more problems for JJ down at the charter.”

Rafe making problems sounds about right. But JJ’s not some nobody Pogue anymore. People don’t say the name Maybank with derision these days. She can’t imagine what Rafe’s actual endgame is, if he thinks screwing with JJ will give him leverage to weasel his way back into Sarah’s life.

It’s just crazy to her that there’s still nothing they can do about it. That Rafe still has total impunity to be an asshole. How is that the rest of them can grow up – but he just stays the same? It probably makes sense, since Rafe’s glory days seem solidly behind him.

But why are people still humoring him? Why is he still afforded a semblance of respect? Why do the lackeys still flock to him? She wouldn’t even care except he’s coming after her friends – her family.

“How is that even still a thing?” Kiara asks, shaking her head. “I mean, Rafe’s got nothing. How is it a thing?”

But the look on Cleo’s face tells her right away just how wrong her statement is. “It’s very much a thing,” she confirms. “And I think it’s coming to a head, one way or another. Rafe seems keen on upping the ante.”

It’s not that she doubts Cleo – she has no reason to, any more than Cleo has a reason to lie about this – but trying to put all the information together is leaving her a little slow. It’s catching her totally off guard, and she’s not sure what to do about it. “But JJ hasn’t said a thing about Rafe. Not since Booker was born.”

Cleo doesn’t look surprised by that. If anything, her expression bears the hallmarks of exasperation. “That’s by choice,” she says. “He seems to think talking about it will upset Sarah and John B right now.”

That’s not an invalid point. In fact, it’s pretty thoughtful, and just like JJ to put his friends first.

But she shakes her head. “But he could still tell me.”

Now, Cleo actually scoffs. “He could,” she agrees. “And I keep telling him he needs to. But that damn boy wants to protect you, too, it seems. He says you have enough going on.”

And damn it, now it’s hitting home. That’s exactly the kind of thing she should be expecting from JJ – but she hasn’t. Not since he started therapy, and not since he entrusted her with his entire life. These past few years, with JJ in remission, they’ve fallen into such comfortable, healthy routines.

She’s let herself believe that it’s all okay.

That nothing could possibly be wrong.

Not when JJ is happy and healthy. Not when they’re both thriving.

But self-sufficiency is a double-edged sword, in the end. The more they’re okay, the more they think they’re okay – and the less they are inclined to ask for help. And JJ is falling back into his self-sacrificial ways. He may not be driving himself off overpasses or getting arrested for someone else’s crimes, but this is still tried and true JJ, trying to protect the people he loves even at his own expense.

Kiara’s been so busy with her own things that she hasn’t noticed.

She’s numb as she tries to catch up, and she knows there’s no luxury for her to be shocked. “What’s going on then?”

Cleo seems all too pleased to tell her. “It started with review bombing and blasting us on social media,” she says.

Kiara processes that with some concern. Locally, no one will buy Rafe’s shit anymore. But bookings from out of town tourists, especially advanced bookings, depend on their online presence. “Is it affecting the bottom line?”

Cleo takes a measured breath. “Not too bad,” she says. “But that’s not the worst part.”

Kiara feels her gut twinge. “There’s worse?”

Cleo nods, graver than before. “JJ and I have had most of the bad reviews successfully appealed because they’re so clearly spam, but it’s made things tense,” she explains grimly. “Plus, he’s almost got The Sea Princess to sell out to him.”

Now that catches Kiara off guard. “The Sea Princess? That’s been local and family-owned for generations. They’ve refused offers to sell for years.”

Cleo nods. “I don’t know what Rafe has offered them, but they’re looking to close next month.”

“Shit,” Kiara says. “I bet JJ’s taking it hard.”

“JJ’s taking it as bad as I’ve seen,” Cleo reports soberly. “I haven’t seen him this upset since he’s gone into remission.”

“What can we do?” Kiara asks.

“About Rafe? I have no idea,” Cleo says. “But I wanted you to know so you could make sure he’s coping at home, yeah?”

Kiara nods, though it seems like scant consolation. “There’s really nothing else?”

Cleo shrugs. “Unless you can change Rafe Cameron’s mind about being an asshole.”

Kiara grunts. “I’ve talked Luke Maybank into being a hero, but Rafe Cameron?” she ventures. “Now, that’s impossible.”

-o-

Rafe may be a lost cause, but he’s a pressing problem. JJ is still steadfastly refusing to admit to her that it’s concerning him, and his distance in this regard is something she hasn’t seen since before his diagnosis. Clearly, Rafe’s impact is getting worse if JJ’s reverting.

He’s worried.

He’s just really worried.

So when John B comes over to hang out, Kiara makes herself scarce and then presses her ear against the door just to hear the truth of what he’s feeling. Because he may not be able to say it to her, but she trusts he can say it to him.

She’s let go of her control to a large degree and she’s living her own life.

But some habits will just never die, she decides without regret.

“It’s bullshit,” JJ says. “I mean, I swear. We’re adults now, and he’s acting like we’re still teenagers playing Kooks against Pogues. It’s bullshit.”

“Rafe was an adult when he was kicking our asses in high school,” John B reminds him. They’re playing video games, the sound of the system whirring and the music lilting in the background. “So, guys like that never grow up.”

“But I have,” JJ says. “I mean, what am I supposed to do? Get drunk in the boneyard and pick a fight?”

John B snorts. “Pretty sure that’s a no,” he says. “Shit, when was the last time we were at the boneyard?”

“Since before I got sick,” JJ says. “Which – that’s crazy, right?”

John B chuckles. “You got soft, bro.”

“What about you?” JJ retorts. “Married with a baby.”

“Oh, just wait,” John B says. “That’ll be you, too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “But only if I can stop myself from letting Rafe win.”

“What, you’re going to lose your temper with him?” John B asks. They both make a noise as the game bleeps at them. The end of a level or a life or whatever the hell it is they’re playing.

“Nah, bro,” JJ says. “But he’s trying to run me out of business. And he’s pretty damn good at it.”

“Your charter is solid–”

“And he’s playing dirty,” JJ says. He grunts, the sound of the controller having its button smashed loud enough to hear through the door. “I can’t even miss a step with him around.”

“Well, you’re not doing it alone,” John B reasons. “You’ve got Cleo. And I can step it up. Ask around at the surf shop.”

“I appreciate it,” JJ says. There’s a pause while they both seem to focus on the game. For a second, Kiara thinks that’s it, but JJ continues. “Somehow, we’re back to the good old days. Getting my ass kicked by Kooks every time.”

“But they don’t win now,” John B says. “I mean, come on. Most of the Kooks love you in town.”

“But he’s Rafe Cameron,” JJ says with obvious disdain.

“And that doesn’t mean half as much as it used to,” John B says. “You’re, like, JJ Maybank.”

JJ snorts. “I can’t believe you said that with a straight face, man.”

“Hey!” John B yelps. “That’s how everyone says it.”

“Bullshit.”

“You’re legit, man,” John B says. “Everyone sees it but you.”

“Yeah, well, I’d settle for just being left alone at this point,” JJ mutters. “I mean, Rafe Cameron, right? What the hell?”

John B snorts, and the sound of music rises again as the buttons are smashed louder than before. “What the hell.”

-o-

Kiara’s got plenty to do, so sitting around worrying and eavesdropping can only be a part-time gig for her. JJ’s busy, too, and she can only hope that he’s keeping active enough to not worry too much about Rafe.

For a week, she doesn’t think about it at all.

But the next time she and JJ hang out with Sarah, John B, and Booker, it’s pretty clear this is still an issue.

And not just for JJ.

They’re doing their usual shit, eating Chinese takeout and playing with Booker. The boys are being dumbshits and making Booker smile, but Sarah doesn’t hardly crack a smile. When Kiara finally asks her if everything’s okay, she nearly breaks down into tears.

Kiara is hugging her at a loss, looking at John B, who has gone pale. JJ just looks confused.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah says.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Kiara comforts, though she’s not sure why.

“It’s just it’s all my fault,” Sarah says with a little sniffle.

“Sarah, it’s not–” John B starts to interject.

Sarah shakes her head, refusing to let him finish. “It is,” she says. “And I know you say telling them won’t change anything, but they deserve to know.”

Kiara sits back a little, keeping her hand on Sarah’s back. “Who deserves to know?”

Sarah looks at her tearfully – then at JJ. “JJ,” she says and stops, wetting her lips. On the floor Booker coos obliviously. “JJ, you deserve to know.”

JJ’s mouth opens and closes. “Know what?” he finally manages to say.

“This thing with Rafe,” she blurts. “It’s my fault.”

Kiara’s heart flutters a little, but JJ’s confusion only deepens. “Sarah, Rafe and I have been at it since we were teenagers, ever since he first kicked my ass when I was 14. It’s not you.”

“But it is,” she insists. “He started the business after he saw me pregnant. And the review bombing? The offer to buy out The Sea Princess? Was the day after he ran into Booker and me at the store.”

Kiara’s hand is frozen in place, and she’s not sure what to do. JJ processes this information and still seems to not get it. “But what do I have to do with Booker?”

“Because you’re his uncle, not Rafe,” Sarah says.

On the ground, John B has picked up Booker and is bouncing him on his knee.

“But–” JJ starts.

“So, if he can knock you down or something, maybe he thinks he can get back into my life – into Booker’s life.”

“That’s seriously messed up,” Kiara observes.

“It’s Rafe,” Sarah shoots back. “Everything he does is messed up.”

“Yeah,” JJ says slowly. “But still not your fault–”

Sarah sighs. “He asked to come over, to try,” she says with defeat. “I said no and he lost his shit.”

“We talked to Shoupe about a restraining order,” John B says softly. “But I was kind of worried that doing that would only piss him off more.”

Now, Kiara’s hand drops away as the shock settles over her more decisively.

Sarah just sobs again. “If I’d just said yes, let him see Booker–”

It’s JJ who moves, who gets up off the ground and comes to the couch, sitting on the other side of Sarah. He shakes his head, leaning down to look at her. “It never would have worked,” he says. “Sarah, hey – it never would have worked.”

Sarah looks at him through her tears, desperate.

And JJ smiles. “You did the right thing,” he says. “This isn’t about me or Kie or the charter.”

She takes a deep, gulping breath. “But Rafe–”

“–is after you and you have to protect Booker,” he says.

Sarah’s brow furrows deeply. “But the charter – he’s trying to ruin it.”

“Trying, maybe,” JJ says, and he flashes his biggest, most shit eating grin. “But not succeeding.”

He’s got that effortless confidence of his youth, and his endless years of bullshitting his way into success is a skill he still has.

It makes Kiara’s heart swell a little. To see him fall back on his old habits.

To see him put everything aside for his friends.

JJ has always been the most selfless among them, so it’s no surprise. She loves that about him, even if it worries her to see him deflect.

She needs to talk more about this Rafe problem later.

Right now, though, she agrees with JJ. Sarah – and Booker – are the priority.

“He’s right,” Kiara says, rubbing her hand gently on Sarah’s back. “We’ve dealt with Rafe and his shit for years. This is old hat.”

There’s truth to it, even if it’s not entirely true.

John B picks up Booker, cradling him easily. “They’re right, Sarah,” he says. “Just like I’ve been telling you.”

Sarah sighs, long and shaky. “I know, I know,” she says, sloppily wiping her nose and cheeks. “These stupid hormones. Shit.”

Kiara laughs, and JJ reddens awkwardly.

Sarah takes another breath. “I just can’t hide it, you know? Rafe is using all of you to get to me–”

“And we can handle it,” JJ assures her. “So don’t worry.”

“And don’t apologize,” Kiara tells her.

John B is on his feet now with Booker tucked close. “It’s going to be fine, Sarah.”

“Of course it is,” JJ says. “The Kooks don’t win this shit anymore.”

Chapter Text

-o-

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

-o-

Despite their best efforts, the rest of the visit just isn’t the same. Eventually, it seems like leaving is the kinder option, even though Kiara feels guilty about it all the same. Sarah goes back to nurse Booker and John B sees them out.

On the porch, he lingers apologetically.

He lingers with obvious concern.

“I’m sorry it’s weird,” he says, and he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. “Sarah’s – you know. She’s sleep-deprived with Booker and all. Sometimes the emotions, man. They get her.”

Kiara nods because she doesn’t have personal experience, but she knows that hormones are a bitch. They can mess her up on her period. She can only imagine the havoc they wreak on you after you create a tiny person.

JJ, though, looks a little dumbstruck, and Kiara quickly intervenes for all their sakes. “It’s okay,” she says. “We just want her to know that we’re here for her.”

To that, JJ nods readily. He doesn’t understand postpartum mood shifts, but he knows a few things about their found family. And he is nothing if not loyal on that point. Now, more than ever.

Which is saying something.

“I know – and she knows,” John B says, but then he hesitates, kicking his toe at the ground for a second. “It’s just – what’s actually going on with Rafe?”

JJ goes stiff. He’s a good liar most of the time, but he’s shit around his friends. And around John B? There’s no way; he has no pretenses.

“I mean, it’s like I said–” he starts.

But the bullshit mode is only going to fly out of necessity. For Sarah, right now, sure. But JJ needs John B and always will. “It’s getting worse,” she interjects.

JJ looks at her, brow furrowed slightly. “Kie, it’s fine–”

“JJ, it’s not fine,” she says abruptly.

John B takes a slow, measured breath. He’s clearly not surprised by this – any of it. “The idea with the restraining order,” he starts. “It could work for you.”

The fact that he’s suggesting it is indicative of how bad this is – and how worried John B actually is. Kiara feels her gut churn slightly, but JJ is quick to shake his head.

“No, man,” he says dismissively. “Rafe’s no big deal.”

She puts a hand on JJ’s arm so he looks at her. “Jayj,” she says softly. “We may need to keep Sarah out of the details for now, but I mean telling John B–”

JJ’s face tightens and he flattens his lips. “But it’s nothing–”

“It’s not nothing,” Kiara says, letting her voice carry weight while she tries to keep it down. She takes a measured breath and looks at John B. “He’s in JJ’s face constantly. It’s getting worse. Whatever he’s doing, he’s stepping it up.”

JJ looks frustrated at the admission, but John B looks at him and JJ’s defenses break down. “I mean, yeah,” he says with a small shrug. “But it’s just for show. Like, we’re all adults now, right? He’s not going to come kick my ass or anything. Whatever he’s doing, he can’t really touch us. None of it means shit.”

John B looks back at Kiara, as if for confirmation. But she can’t do much to validate it. John B snorts, glancing at JJ. “Wishful thinking, bro?”

“You know it, man,” he says. “How else did we find not one – but three treasures?”

“Well, hard work and determination–”

“And wishful thinking,” JJ says, tapping his finger to his head. He nods like he’s saying something keenly wise here. “I think, therefore I am.”

“No, that’s not–” John B starts.

“No,” Kiara agrees. “That’s definitely not.”

“It totally is,” JJ says flippantly. He makes a wildly grand gesture. “We’ve got this, John B. Trust me!”

-o-

JJ doesn’t got this, though.

Within two weeks, Rafe has bought up another charter, and he’s bought up all the prime advertising real estate on the island – locking it down with a year-long contract before JJ even has a chance to make his pitch.

“Is this going to be a problem?” Kiara asks.

“No,” JJ says, but it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. “It’s totally not going to be a problem.”

“JJ–”

“Look, Rafe can do whatever the hell he wants with his charter. He does his shit, I’ll do mine,” he says. “We never even have to cross paths.”

-o-

Until, of course, they do.

JJ keeps true to his word, at least. He doesn’t approach Rafe. He doesn’t say shit, and he doesn’t stoop to the asshole’s level. He doesn’t make a stink about the competition getting bought out, and he works his magic to secure secondary advertising contracts that are almost just as good – if not better – for their innovation.

He’s still making the best of a bad deal, just like he always has.

JJ’s not ceding the market, and he’s not giving Rafe the high ground. He’s keeping true, keeping steady. This is a maturity JJ has never displayed before. He might never have gotten here without Kiara – and the Pogues.

And nearly dying from cancer had probably taught him a thing or two about keeping perspective on what actually matters.

The problem is, though, that it’s not entirely up to JJ.

It doesn’t always take two to tango.

Sometimes, it just takes one.

With a hand in a fist and an itch to fight.

-o-

The call from Cleo is a little weird.

First, it’s a call, not a text. And it’s not a video call. It’s a voice call. In the mid-afternoon. On a work day. When Cleo is, you know, working.

So it’s a little weird.

And the second Cleo answers, Kiara can tell it’s very weird.

Bad weird.

“Look. Don’t panic.”

This is, of course, a sure way to ensure Kiara starts panicking. Heart thudding in her chest, her voice sounds funny when she speaks. “Why would I panic?”

“Because the news I have to tell you isn’t great,” Cleo continues in even, measured tones.

Now, Kiara feels like she may just vomit. “Cleo,” she says, even as her mind starts to actually short circuit. “Is JJ–?”

“JJ is fine,” Cleo says, like this is a response she’s practiced.

She exhales, heavy and relieved. “Okay–”

“Mostly fine,” Cleo amends, though.

Just like that, Kiara’s heart drops again. This time, she can’t muster up the words to speak.

So, Cleo continues. “He got into a fight.”

That’s probably not really a surprise – not given JJ – but it is. Because JJ has a long history of fighting and being a general menace to society. But not since El Dorado. Not since cancer. “What?” is all she can say.

“It wasn’t his fault, for what that’s worth,” Cleo says. “I was there–”

She’s explaining details that just don’t parse. She shakes her head, her fingers clutching the phone so tight they’re almost numb. “What the hell does that mean? How did JJ get into a fight?”

“Rafe.”

The moment Cleo says it, Kiara feels like an idiot. Of course it’s Rafe.

Of course it has to be Rafe.

The asshole. The Kook King. The biggest dick on the entire island. Rafe.

“He came by and made an offer–”

That doesn’t track. Kiara shakes her head, struggling to keep up. “He made an offer?”

“To buy JJ out,” Cleo says.

That one actually guts her. She crashes down, barely catching herself on the couch. “What the hell?”

“JJ said no–”

“Um, yeah–”

Cleo sighs. “But the man didn’t let up,” she says. “He was determined to get something from JJ.”

“And how does that end with JJ in a fight?” Kiara asks.

“I’ll just say JJ didn’t throw the first punch,” Cleo says. “He may have provoked it, but I think the asshole had it coming.”

That’s not exactly a solid explanation of anything.

There are times when she thinks Cleo is the best person on this island.

Then there are times like now, when Cleo is as much as delinquent as JJ and it shows.

“Cleo–”

“He did throw the last punch,” Cleo says, and she sounds pleased by this.

Kiara questions her sanity. She questions the wisdom of letting JJ and Cleo go into business together without regular adult supervision.

She questions the existence of God given that Rafe Cameron still exists.

Shit.

She leans back, pressing her palm to her forehead and squeezing her eyes shut. “And he’s okay?”

“Mostly–”

She opens her eyes, stomach still turning itself inside out with dread. “He threw the last punch,” she realizes. “Cleo, is he in jail? Did he get arrested?”

She knows that there was a time most of the deputies on the island would have relished bringing JJ in. She likes to think that’s changed – but Rafe’s still a Cameron. And JJ’s always going to be a Maybank.

“No!” Cleo says, like the answer is so obvious it annoys her. “Girl, like I said, he didn’t start it.”

That’s fine, probably. But Kiara still doesn’t understand. Cleo is making a big deal about something, and a few bruised knuckles isn’t new. “Then, what? Why are you–”

“He’s in the hospital, Kiara,” Cleo finally says, her words cutting through it all.

It settles over her with a horrible, sudden clarity, and she feels like she’s 18 again, sitting in the doctor’s office while her world falls apart.

“It’s not that bad, though,” Cleo adds quickly, but not quickly enough. Nothing is quick enough – for that. “He was fine but got a little dizzy after it was broken up. He went down, and I’m the one who flipped. He was pissed when I called 911–”

Her heart rate speeds up again as her palms start to sweat. “You’re there with him? At the hospital?” she asks, inching to the edge of the couch. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Cleo says steadily. “He’s got a concussion–”

She’s on her feet before Cleo can finish. “I’m coming right now–”

“Kiara, wait,” Cleo says, her voice pressed with urgency.

Kiara is already collecting her things as she scoffs. “Wait? For what?” she asks, fully incredulous now. “JJ’s in the hospital. The same hospital where he nearly died. So there’s no way in hell I’m waiting.”

“But that’s why you should,” Cleo says, voice rising as she strives for calm. “Look, this is worse than I’m telling you, yes. He’s beat up pretty good, and he looks a mess.”

It makes her chest clench and her eyes burn.

“But it’s not that, yeah?” Cleo says, letting the point settle over her. “So take a breath, girl. Take a breath.”

And she does. She braces herself on the counter, keys in on hand and phone clenched in the other. And breathes.

In and out. Careful and sure.

In and out.

She closes her eyes for a long, hard moment. And swallows. “You swear he’s okay?”

“They’re not admitting him,” Cleo informs her. “They’re just running a few more tests to be safe, but they expect to let him go home tonight.”

“I’m on my way,” Kiara says. “Will you–?”

“Yeah, I’m not going anywhere,” Cleo says. “I called the others, too.”

Kiara’s already out the door, locking it behind her and crossing the porch. She almost forgets she’s still on the phone when Cleo’s voice cuts clearly through her senses.

“Be safe,” she says. “The last thing we need is another Pogue in the hospital.”

“We didn’t need one in there,” Kiara says, unlocking her car to get inside. She sits down and hesitates. “You promise me? He’s okay?”

“He’s just worried about what you’ll think,” she says. “So it’s best to get the two of you together before the whole damn island explodes from the latent anxiety.”

She starts the engine. “I’ll be there in five minutes–”

“It’s a 10 minute drive–”

“Five minutes, Cleo,” she says shortly. “I’ll see you soon.”

-o-

It may not even take her five minutes.

Honestly, Kiara doesn’t know. She drives on autopilot; she drives blind. Is it the safest thing in the world? Probably not. But Kiara’s not thinking about safety. She’s not thinking about much of anything.

Just JJ.

JJ in the hospital.

It’s been years, right? All the time that’s past.

And it’s all right there. It’s like the wound hasn’t healed at all; all her fear, all her anxiety, all her desperation – it’s right there. Time numbs it. Therapy gives her tools to cope with it.

But she falls right back to it. The horrible oppression of it all. She can’t do this, she can’t.

She has to.

By the time she gets there, her fingers ache from gripping the wheel so tight. She kills the engine and climbs out, forcing herself to breathe as she looks out at the building she knows so well – too well.

This isn’t the same thing. It’s not.

She tells herself that as she takes a deep breath.

JJ’s going to be fine.

And so is she.

-o-

That determination gets her inside. By the time she makes it to the ER waiting room, though, she’s nearly a mess again. She’s on the verge of tears – and she can’t fully articulate why – and she doesn’t even see Cleo until the other girl takes her by the shoulders and makes her stop.

"Hey! You with me?”

Kiara finally blinks and comes back to herself enough to nod.

Cleo looks unconvinced. “I thought I told you JJ was fine?”

She nods again, taking a shaky breath. “I know – I just–” she starts but isn’t sure what to say. She lifts a hand to wipe her eyes. “It’s just been so long since I’ve been here. Like this.”

Cleo drops her hands and gives her a sympathetic nod. “I know,” she says. “But I’m not lying to you. JJ is fine, but I think he needs you to be fine in order to stay fine. If you go in there and lose your shit, I think you’re both going to melt down.”

Kiara inhales, long and slow. She finds the resolve inside of her. The stuff she’s had since the first diagnosis. The stuff that helped her put JJ on life support and give him bone marrow from his dad. That resolve.

If she could do that, she can do this, too.

“I’m fine,” she says. Because for JJ, she will be. “I can do this.”

Cleo remains unconvinced.

Kiara takes another breath and settles herself with a perfunctory bob of her head. “Now. Where is he?”

-o-

Cleo gives her the room number, and Kiara makes her way to the exam bay. She smiles at the nurses. She nods at the doctors. She’s perfectly calm and collected.

See?

She’s fine.

She is absolutely fine.

Until she gets to the room and opens the door, and she sees JJ.

And then she is not fine.

She’s not fine at all.

He’s there on the bed, sitting up. He looks coherent, which is good, but that’s about the only thing that looks good. Beyond that, JJ’s a mess. His nose is clearly broken, and he has two black eyes, one of which is puffy and nearly swollen shut. There’s a stitched cut on his forehead, and another on his cheek. His lip is badly split, and no one has successfully cleaned off all the dried blood.

“It’s not bad,” JJ says before she can say anything. Her voice is stuck in her throat with a strangled gasp. “I swear. I’ve had worse.”

It’s just – it’s just what? It’s a stupid defense. That doesn't make it okay. If anything, it’s just worse. He shouldn’t be so experienced with pain and blood. It’s painfully familiar, to see him beaten and bruised.

She can’t help but think of Luke. The damage done by his fists.

So that JJ would sit there, battered in a hospital bed, telling her it’s not that bad and meaning it.

“JJ–”

“Kie, I promise,” he says, sitting up a little more while the nurse working on his open cuts gives him a critical look. “I’m fine.”

“You will be, sugar,” the nurse drawls. “If you let me finish bandaging you up.”

JJ sinks back, somewhat chagrined, but his eyes are still wide and panicked.

Or his one eye.

Shit, he’s such a mess.

“He’s not lying,” the nurse says, giving Kiara a cursory look. “He’s been awake and alert since he got here. Doctor just wants to be extra careful before we let him go home with you.”

JJ nods.

Kiara stands there for a second, not sure what to say or do. “You look like shit,” she says finally.

This makes the nurse laugh. JJ looks like a deer in the damn headlights.

“It’s mostly superficial,” the nurse assures her. She dabs at one more cut and applies a bandage. “But it will probably make you sore as hell tomorrow. You sure you don’t want a painkiller?”

“I”m fine,” JJ says, and he drops his head finally.

The nurse shrugs like she probably disagrees and gets up. “I’ll go see how the results are coming on your scans,” she says. “You need anything?”

JJ shakes his head.

The nurse looks at her, and Kiara shakes her head, too.

She waits until the nurse finally leaves JJ alone before she delicately fingers the puffy skin around his nose. He winces but doesn’t pull away, and her stomach churns. It’s been a long time since she’s seen him beat up.

“Cleo told me what happened,” she says, and he watches her, uncertain and tentative.

She hasn’t missed it – seeing him like this.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” she asks, moving her fingers over another bruise on his cheek. His lip is split, too, and given the rumpled state of his shirt and the bandage on his forehead, she suspects there are injuries she can’t see. “You got your ass kicked.”

She’s not disappointed, though it almost sounds like she is. It’s not like she wants JJ to be fighting. His penchant for violence is something they’ve talked about, and she’s made it clear how she feels about it.

It’s all well and good, of course, until JJ’s on the receiving end.

Then, Kiara’s stance on violence is a little less clear.

Because she would very much like to beat Rafe Cameron into the ground right now.

“I did,” he says, and he flexes his fists a little bit with another wince. “Eventually.”

She rolls her eyes with a sigh. “You don’t have to let someone beat you up just to prove you have self-control.”

He drops his hand in his lap, even as she places her fingers gently around it. “Like, I survived cancer, Kie,” he says. “What’s Rafe Cameron actually going to do to me?”

“Oh, gee, I don’t know,” Kiara says, giving him a plaintive look. “Punch your face in?”

He’s just slightly chagrined, but he doesn’t give in completely. “I have nothing to prove to him.”

“Yeah, I know,” she says. “But you thought it’d be fun to let him punch you? Cleo said you passed out. You have a concussion.”

On that point, he doesn’t have much defense, and his shoulders slump slightly. “Well, yeah,” he says, a bit more sheepish now. He lifts his free hand to delicately brush against the worst of his bruising. “I forgot how much it sucks to be suckerpunched.”

She lifts her hands, too, brushing against one of the puffy areas. “He got you good.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, pulling away a little. “But I got him good, too.”

She eyes him with clear skepticism. “Yeah, and how’s that, tough guy?”

“Well, Shoupe arrested him publicly,” JJ says, and smiles a little. “Handcuffs on the street and everything.”

For the first time since arriving at the hospital, Kiara is able to think about something other than the bruises and blood. “Really?”

JJ looks unduly pleased by this. Especially considering he’s the one who got beaten up. “Rafe tried to pass the blame onto me, but I guess I’m a reputable citizen now,” he says, clearly chuffed by the idea. His chest puffs up a little. “Shoupe didn’t even have to ask for witnesses to take my word over his.”

This is a small thing – or it should be. Rafe may have the family name, but he’s hardly an upstanding citizen himself. His reputation is badly tarnished, and some people still pay him some kind of messed up homage, but there’s no doubt about it. Everyone knows Rafe Cameron’s bad news.

Yet, for JJ, it’s a milestone. For the cops to take his word? As a Maybank?

It’s a big deal.

And it makes her smile. “Well, of course he did,” she says, reaching up to straighten a few pieces of his stray, blonde hair. “How could he not?”

JJ blushes a little, dipping his head as he shrugs. “Whatever,” he says, almost shy about it. “I mean, nothing will stick. He’ll be out by morning.” He looks up at her again, eyes twinkling almost despite his best efforts. “But still.”

Now, she grins. “Still,” she agrees, and she lets her hand linger on his cheek. “I’m proud of you.”

He’s sheepish, but just a little. She can sense his pride, even though he’s bloodied and bruised. “Why? For getting my ass kicked?”

She pulls her hand back. “For growing up.”

At that, he nods. Then, he nods again as the conclusion settles over him. “Well,” he says, shifting with a wince from his perch on the hospital exam bed. “It had to happen sooner or later.”

-o-

Over the course of her adult life, Kiara has spent far too much time in hospitals and doctor’s offices. She knows how this works.

Nurses do the hard work; doctors pop in and out when necessary. The billing department always tracks you down one way or another, and waiting for scans is always a pain in the ass. Needless to say, JJ is stuck in the hospital for hours, wheeled in and out of rooms and radiology until he’s apologizing profusely to every nurse and orderly for taking up their time.

She doesn’t call anyone, but she’s not surprised when the Pogues show up. Cleo already said she called them, and it’s all hands on deck for JJ – that much hasn’t changed. Pope starts texting her an incessant string of questions she can’t possibly answer accurately about JJ’s condition, and John B and Sarah show up, looking anxious – having left Booker with the Heywards.

JJ endures it with his typical grace. In other words, he makes jokes and self-deprecating comments while they wait for the scans to come back and his discharge to go through.

“For real,” he says. One of the nurses has given him an icepack to help with the swelling around his eye, and he’s like a restless little kid as he manhandles it. “Y’all have gone full Kook. Showing up here for a black eye.”

“Concussion, JJ,” John B tells him flatly. “You have a moderate concussion.”

“Possibly,” JJ says. He points to his head with his free hand, the one not dripping wet with the icepack. “That’s why they’re running tests.”

“The tests are to make sure your brain isn’t bleeding or swelling,” Kiara tells him, because yes, she’s been listening.

JJ, though, clearly hasn’t. He makes a face. “They’re what?”

“I’m so sorry, JJ,” Sarah starts, and not for the first time. She keeps wringing her hands anxiously, fiddling with her wedding ring and apologizing. As if somehow she’s responsible for the brother she hasn’t talked to in years.

“What?” JJ says. He gestures to his face now. “Rafe barely touched me. I’ve had so much worse.”

“Moderate concussion,” John B says.

Cleo clucks her tongue from where she’s slinking by the window. “He knocked you the heck out, boy.”

“After I put him on his ass,” JJ says, as if that matters. “I just got up too fast. Head rush.”

“Caused by a concussion!” John B says.

JJ rolls his eyes, clearly put out by this. “See? I told you. Full Kook. It happened. It actually happened.”

He’s joking, but Sarah’s next breath is ragged. She can’t quite stifle the sob, and John B slips an arm around her worriedly.

JJ, who is seated on the edge of the bed, looks genuinely upset by this. “Sarah, seriously,” he says. “Like, it’s nothing. Rafe took his best shot. And if this is it? Then, it’s not a problem.”

John B rubs his hand down her spine. “He’s right, babe,” he says, suddenly quite willing to forget the part where JJ is badly concussed. “This isn’t something we can’t handle.”

“And it’s certainly not your fault,” Kiara adds.

Sarah looks up, wiping her eyes. “I just – I don’t get him,” she says. “What does he think he can accomplish like this? Does he think threatening the people I care about will make me want to talk to him?”

“He’s not thinking,” Cleo says. She sighs. “Rafe doesn’t operate with the same kind of logic as the rest of us. He’s not quite right in the head. It’s a power play.”

“And how is JJ getting beat into the ground stopping that?” Sarah asks.

JJ blushes a bit. He’s good at making himself the butt of every joke, but he doesn’t always love being reminded of his own vulnerability – even now.

But Kiara gets it. She does. She gets up and moves over next to Sarah, too, and smooths her own hand over her best friend’s shoulder. “Because JJ didn’t let Rafe win in the way that matters,” she says. “He didn’t get a rise out of JJ, which is obviously what he wanted. He’s looking for weaknesses in our family – and he didn’t find it today.”

“That’s right,” JJ chimes in, because he gets it now, too. “And he’s never going to get it. He’s the one who got arrested, remember?”

Sarah has collected herself some, taking a few deep, even breaths. “I know, I know, I do,” she says. She sighs and looks at the ceiling, as if collecting some semblance of her strength. “I just – it’s such bullshit.”

“Hey, no arguments here,” JJ says. “This is the shittiest bull in quite some time. But it’s nothing, Sarah. Like, for real.”

He shrugs as they all look at him, and he shrugs easily.

“I mean, come on,” he says. “We’ve still got our fortunes. We’ve all got jobs and careers and all that shit. Just look at us! We’re successful! We’re healthy–”

“Except for the moderate concussion,” John B adds, almost despite himself.

JJ ignores him. “–and we’re happy,” he says. “Rafe’s just pissed because he’s none of those things.”

Sarah smiles – a little watery – but she nods. She gets up, crossing over to JJ, and wrapping her arms around him with a little tug. He makes a small sound of surprise, but he hugs her back.

She shakes her head, burying her face in his hair. “A speech like that, and you can’t give us shit about going full Kook.”

She pulls back, and JJ gapes. “What?”

“That was pretty Kooky,” John B says.

“The Kookiest,” Cleo agrees.

JJ looks mortally wounded. “That’s the meanest thing you’ve all said to me. Ever.”

Kiara moves back to him, too, giving him a kiss despite his protests. “We still love you,” she assures him, just a little mean. “Even if you’re a Kook.”

-o-

It takes several more hours for the doctors to read JJ’s scans and clear him for release. The nurse leaves her with a long list of things to look out for – possible complications from the head injury – but JJ seems like this is all old hat to him.

She chooses not to think about why.

The nurse goes over the care instructions again, delineating the details of how to care for the stitches, and she looks uneasy as she hands JJ his things to go. “Are you sure you guys can handle this?” She looks at Kiara. “It can be a lot.”

Kiara does her best not to laugh. She still remembers with painful clarity the endless prescriptions and treatments and appointments that got JJ through cancer.

This?

This is a few pain pills, fresh gauze, and instruction to wait and see. It’s nothing.

“Yeah,” she says with a sweet smile. JJ grimaces for them both even as she rests a heavy hand on his shoulder. “I think we got this.”

-o-

JJ is tired and sore, but he’s able to walk on his own. He looks spent by the time they get to the car, but that’s probably just the long hours in the ER more than the concussion.

It’s late anyway, and JJ convinced the others to go home hours ago. JJ is quiet on the drive home, half asleep with his head against the window as Kiara drives carefully to avoid jarring him. He rouses as they pull up the drive, blinking sleepily while Kiara parks and piles out

She helps him out, and he’s just spent enough to let her, wincing as they turn on the lights inside to get to the bedroom.

She pulls out a fresh t-shirt and gym shorts for him to sleep in, and he takes the cue to get changed. He can do it on his own, even if moving a little gingerly. He doesn’t need to be babied but she does it anyway, pulling back the covers and guiding him down.

He grabs her arm, though, pulling her down a little. She’s confused at first, but he kisses her. A little and then a lot.

“JJ,” she mumbles against his lips. “You’ve got a concussion.”

He places his hands on her hips, whining a little. “That’s the point, right? I’m not supposed to sleep with a concussion, am I?”

He kisses her again, running his hand under her shirt without anything resembling subtlety.

“Really?” she says, willing her body to resist his advance. For his own sake. “You just got out of the hospital and you’re coming onto me now?”

If she’s trying to make a point, he doesn’t get it. By choice, no doubt. He’s impossible. And horny.

His hands are in more places now, trailing kisses down neck while she feels herself vibrate. “Just an idea,” he murmurs.

“You are the most ridiculous person I have ever met,” she tells him.

Despite being a fully grown-ass man, he manages to look like a wounded toddler. “So that’s a no?”

She fiddles with his hair, reminding herself of all the good reasons she’s turning him down. “It’s probably not a great idea considering the day you’ve had.”

JJ, though, is persistent. When he’s motivated, he can keep at a thing.

And apparently he’s motivated.

“They didn’t say no sex,” he says.

“You didn’t listen to the discharge instructions, I did,” she says.

“And did they say no sex?”

She huffs. “No–”

He looks hopeful.

She swats him ever so gently. “But they told you to take it easy,” she says. “You’re supposed to relax.”

His blue eyes are impossibly earnest. “Nothing helps me relax more than–”

“JJ!”

He sighs, finally letting himself flop back. “Fine. Sleep it is. But for the record, I think it’s a badly missed opportunity.”

She takes the time to help pull the covers up over him, mostly for her own satisfaction of seeing him tucked in “Well, maybe I need you in prime physical health for that.”

He looks up at her, vaguely interested. “What does that mean?”

“Sleep on it,” she orders him. “I’m sure you’ll come up with some ideas.”

With that, he seems to comply, blinking a few times while Kiara turns off the lights. In the doorway, she lingers. She thinks he’s half asleep already, but after a moment, his voice rings out in the dimness. “Kie?”

“Yeah, Jayj?” she says from the doorway.

“I’m sorry for today,” he says.

“You didn’t do anything; Rafe did,” she reminds him.

“Still,” he says, like he’s not the one beaten and bruised. “I know how it must have – to be in the hospital–”

He stops and she doesn’t trust herself to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

She crosses over to him now, bending down in the dark to kiss his cheek. “Yeah,” she whispers, breath brushing against his cheek. “Me, too.”

“Will we ever get over it?” he asks, looking at her.

She looks back, cupping his face for a second. “I don’t know. Maybe not.”

He looks ready to apologize again, so she moves her finger to his lips to shush him.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” she says. “This is where I belong. With you. I have no regrets, JJ. Not even today.”

He nods, still looking at her in the dark.

She kisses him again. “Especially not today,” she murmurs against his lips, and she feels him exhale, body finally going limp as he lets go. “I love you, JJ.”

“I love you, Kie,” he whispers back.

There’s nothing to say to that, really. In the end, that’s all there is. That’s all that matters.

That’s all.

-o-

JJ, despite his protests, sleeps hard. Part of her does fret about his concussion, but the nurses insisted he was fine and sleep was no big deal. So she does her best not to worry.

It’s hard, though. Worrying about him seems like the most natural expression of love. And he’s so vulnerable, sometimes. He tries not to be. Part of him will always hate it. But she knows him; she knows every part of him. She knows every weakness, every caveat, every need. The idea of losing him still terrifies her.

It’s not just his vulnerability, then. It’s her own.

All these years of work she’s put in.

Rafe Cameron can undo it with a punch.

Or several punches.

Or a lot of punches, given the bruising across JJ’s face.

She sleeps next to him that night, pressed closed to hear him breathing. The next morning, she slips out of bed before he wakes, and she lets him sleep as late as he will until he’s blinking awake sometime past 8.

She’s already got coffee on, and she offers to make them both breakfast. He’s skeptical – between the two of them, she is clearly the better cook. She also hates doing it and often opts for carryout instead. He’s the one who’s more likely to get his hands dirty in the kitchen, and they both know it.

Years of working at The Wreck have paid off. She pulls together a delicious breakfast, and JJ’s recovered enough to enjoy it. Watching him eat still brings her some satisfaction. She’s well aware of JJ’s complicated relationship with food, and seeing him eat is a reminder to her – as much as him – that things are okay.

Things are going to be okay.

JJ thanks her profusely, so much so that Kiara is a little embarrassed she doesn’t bother more often. Years of working at The Wreck have taught her to use a kitchen. It’s also taught her it’s a life she’s never wanted. But for JJ–

It’s funny how many caveats in her life start with but for JJ.

He heads back to get showered and dressed while she throws the dishes in the sink. She’s settling down to flip on the TV when there’s a knock at the door. She looks up in time to see John B letting himself in.

“Hey,” he says, and he’s already looking around – clearly searching for JJ. “Is he–”

“Just getting cleaned up,” she says. Then, she adds, “He’s fine. Doing a lot better this morning.”

Because that’s really the question John B is here to ask.

As if on cue, JJ comes out of the bedroom. He’s freshly showered with still damp hair, and he’s wearing clean clothes. “B,” he says with a boyish grin. “Don’t you have a shop to open?”

“Yeah,” John B says, eyes sweeping JJ up and down, as if assuring himself that he’s okay. “I’m just stopping off on the way there. Making sure you’re okay.”

JJ grins, holding his arms out as if to prove it. “Never better.”

Kiara gives him a pointed look. “And how’s that headache?”

He gives her a pointed look in return.

John B just looks disconcerted. “Do you need to go back to the doctor?”

JJ huffs at him, passing by John B to sit on the chair. “It’s just a headache.”

“A concussion will do that,” Kiara quips.

John B looks even more stricken, and this time Kiara corrects her own words.

“He’s got no other symptoms, but he’s being the tough guy,” she tells him. “No meds.”

“I don’t like pills, man,” JJ says. “You all know that.”

John B relaxes – if only a little – and he sits down in the chair across from JJ. “Not all pills are bad. If you don’t feel well–”

“I know how to handle a headache,” JJ says.

John B looks at him for a second before looking down at his hands. “I know,” he says. He glances up again at JJ through the fringe of his bands. “The bruises are worse this morning.”

JJ reaches up, pressing on one of them gently. “They’ll get worse before they get better.”

JJ seems fine with it. Even Kiara, this morning, has managed to let the pressure from her chest unfurl. But John B, sitting there across from JJ, is clearly struggling.

Much of Kiara’s PTSD is tied to JJ’s battle with cancer. No doubt, John B has some of that, too.

But John B has been worrying about JJ for a lot longer than that. She doesn’t know for sure when John B found out the truth about JJ’s life, but he’d known well before Kiara had a clue. Back when she thought JJ was just a likable dumbass, John B had probably known JJ was being used as a punching bag.

She knows that’s part of what makes them so close. That’s part of what makes them brothers.

There’s fallout from that, though. JJ never should have had to live any of that – but John B shouldn’t have either. JJ may have been the one being abused, but John B was too young to be the sole witness. How many years had he been JJ’s only safety net? How many times had he put JJ’s broken pieces back together?

JJ wouldn’t be here if not for John B, that much is true.

“I know,” John B says after a second. He swallows and lifts his hand up to rub through his hair before he sighs. “I hate seeing you like that is all.”

“I thought you’d be used to it, bro,” JJ quips. “Of all people.”

Somehow, that just makes it worse. “That’s the point,” he says, because they’re not kids anymore. They’ve done the work to get on the other side of everything, and John B doesn’t have to keep his mouth shut and play along anymore. “I thought we were past this. Between those Kooks and your dad–”

He stops himself, clamming up the instant he says it.

The mention of his father can still make JJ go pale, but this time he just barely flinches. He musters up a smile quickly enough, more for John B’s sake than anything. “My dad’s gone,” he says, and his voice is strangely hoarse. He rolls his shoulders, trying to fill the uncomfortable lag in the conversation. “And Rafe? I mean, what the hell can I do about that asshole?”

Nothing, is the answer, and they all know it. They’ve pushed this around as much as they can, but none of them can figure out an answer. Rafe’s endgame is still too murky to attack head on, and the last thing she wants to do is encourage JJ to revive his childhood rivalries when he’s finally put so much of it behind him.

They’re not going to be friends with Kooks.

But they also don’t need to be enemies.

Not because the Kooks have earned it, but because they have. The Pogues have earned the respect and admiration of this town. They’ve built lives for themselves. They’ve staked out their own success. They’ve built the kind of life that even the Kooks can’t negate.

Most of them gave up trying.

Rafe Cameron, it seems, is one of a kind.

“I don’t know, man,” John B admits, and he takes a breath while his uncertainty seems to settle. He looks at JJ again, more decided now. “But you need to be safe, man.”

The quiet admonition is dangerously vulnerable between them. JJ sobers just that fast, and John B is clearly uncomfortable. They’ve done this shit before – back when JJ was sick, John B had done everything – but they’re both clearly reluctant to let it go there again if they don’t have to.

“For Booker,” John B amends to diffuse the growing emotion.

JJ blinks. He’s so surprised that he doesn’t note it like Kiara, who pegs it immediately as a tactic to deflect the emotion. JJ is far more credulous. “For Booker?”

“Yeah,” John B says, latching onto the idea wholly now, as if he hasn’t just pulled it out of his ass. “He needs his favorite uncle.”

Yeah, flattery will get you everywhere, especially with JJ. It’s ridiculous how eager he is to be loved, how the smallest praise can turn him into a pile of goo. She knows for sure Luke had been high or drunk every time he hit JJ and told him he was worthless. If he’d been sober at all, he would have seen that loving JJ would get him exactly the results he wanted every damn time.

Because JJ puffs up, and his entire demeanor shifts. “You don’t have to worry about that,” he says, all confidence now. “There’s no way I’m missing a second of that kid’s life.”

John B grins, at least a little appeased by this answer. “So you’ll keep yourself out of trouble?”

“For the record, I didn’t start this fight,” JJ says. “I even tried to deescalate shit or whatever.”

“I’m sure that went very well while he was pounding your face in,” John B says sardonically.

“Everyone keeps saying that like it’s my fault!” JJ objects.

“I’m just saying,” John B says, relenting a little. He raises his eyebrows at JJ. “For Booker?”

By now, JJ knows he’s been had. The promise being elicited isn’t even fair, but he’ll give it anyway. “For Booker.”

It’s funny to think about, really. How far they’ve come.

These two boys with nothing to lose.

Now two men with the world to hold onto.

-o-

John B does have to get to work, so he declines the coffee Kiara offers him and makes his exit instead. JJ goes to get up to see him out, but the concussion is still a real thing. Kiara sees the way his face drains of its color, and John B is quick to brace him.

“Yeah, you stay here,” John B says, helping JJ ease back down to the seat.

“I’m fine–” JJ starts, almost by default.

“Sure you are, buddy,” John B says. “But so am I. It’s walking out a door. You don’t need to get up for that.”

JJ lets out a heavy breath, clearly perturbed. Both by John B’s snark and his own inability to counter it. “Whatever.”

Kiara rolls her eyes and intervenes. “You sit and I’ll see John B out,” she says decisively.

“Kie, I really am capable of walking out a door–”

She glares at him.

And John B shuts his mouth accordingly.

“Thanks for stopping by, B,” JJ says, even as he sinks back with a sigh against the seat back. “Even if it is kind of Kooky.”

“Thanks for avoiding brain damage,” John B snarks back. “I’m sure Rafe appreciated the target practice.”

Instead of a wave, JJ sends him off with a middle finger.

-o-

Ushering John B out is a little unnecessary, but they’re Pogues. They’re family.

Also, she wants to make sure JJ stays on his ass where he belongs, not trailing after his best friend talking shit. And besides, it’s good to touch base with John B.

“The doctors really do say he’s fine,” she says when they get out into the yard. She squints back at the house. “Having him take it easy is just to let him heal. I think it hurts more than he wants to admit.”

“He looks like shit,” John B says with a snort. He shakes his head. “Rafe’s such an asshole.”

“That’s hardly news,” she says. She wets her lips, giving John B a careful look. “Still no idea what he wants from Sarah?”

“He keeps saying he just wants to be a family again,” he says, shaking his head. “But I don’t know. I don’t want to put Sarah through any of that. And I don’t want Booker near him.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Kiara says. “If he wants to win Sarah back, then why is he going after JJ?”

“Because he doesn’t have any idea how a real relationship works, I guess,” John B posits with a shrug. “Like he thinks it’s a power play. I don’t know if it’s the drugs or if he’s just never been right in the head or what.”

Or what. There’s nothing to say to that.

“You could probably get the restraining order now,” John B says. He bobs his head toward the house. “I mean, the guy assaulted JJ. He posted bail, but the charges are still there.”

She draws a breath and considers. “Do we really think he’s going to stop with a piece of paper? We don’t even know what he wants.”

John B’s shoulder sag a little in agreement. “Probably not,” he concedes. He pauses, shifting his stances and working his jaw. “I don’t know how I used to do this.”

She tips her head at him. “Do what?”

“This,” John B says, gesturing to the house again. “All those years, when we were kids, JJ came to me to get cleaned up. The Chateau was always the place he crashed after Luke got – you know.”

After Luke beat him up, he’s trying to say.

She doesn’t like thinking about it any more than John B wants to put it into words. All the years JJ was abused – and she had no idea. She’d just thought JJ was reckless and impulsive with no reason behind it. She’d believed that he crashed his bike or picked a fight.

She hadn’t known.

Not until that night in the hot tub, when his bruises had laid him bare. That’s the moment she’d understood it all. The moment JJ had finally made sense.

That clarity is easy to understand in retrospect. When she takes a broad view, she can parse it out. But the nitty gritty is different. Thinking of it as a lifetime is one thing. Thinking about it day by day is almost unbearable.

What JJ suffered at his father’s hands.

And John B – still a kid himself – trying to patch him together.

No wonder they’re such a mess.

“It’s not my favorite thing either,” she reminds him. “After seeing him in the hospital before.”

After putting him in a coma and shoving a tube down his throat. After forcing his father’s blood into his veins.

John B, at least, gets it. They share a bond, somehow. Their love of JJ is unique and deep. It’s an intense thing that’s hard to explain but impossible to deny.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one around to keep him alive anymore,” John B says.

It’s a nice thing to say, if a little weird. Kiara’s not doing this alone – and neither is John B. Cleo, Pope, and Sarah are all a part of it, too, but what John B and Kiara are doing is different and they both know it.

“What else am I going to do?” she asks, and it’s a helpless sort of question. “I love him.”

John B nods, because he gets that, too. “I love him, too.”

It’s good to hear. She knows it, of course. She’s known it all along. But yeah. It’s good to hear.

It’s good to remember.

It’s just good to know.

“Thanks for stopping by,” she says finally.

He nods his head. “I did it for Booker,” he says, smirking a little.

Kiara smothers a smile and nods back. “For Booker.”

-o-

She waits to see John B off, waving at him as he pulls out. It’s silly, probably, but it’s a thing they do. They’ve fought so hard to get here. None of them are quite ready to take it for granted. They appreciated each other.

Back inside, she finds JJ where she left him, sprawled out on the chair. His eyes are closed head tipped back with his jaw hanging loose. She figures the sleep is probably good for him, and she’s about to slip through to the bedroom and let him be, but his voice stops her.

“B gone?” he asks.

She glances back at him. His eyes are slitted open, looking right at her. “Yeah,” she says. “He does have to work. So.”

She shrugs like that’s that.

JJ, though, starts to sit up. He winces a bit but gets himself back into a seated position. “So, what’s your plan for today?”

She eases back into the room a bit. “I don’t know,” she says, shrugging. “Take it easy with you, I guess.”

“Don’t you have to work?” he asks.

She sits down on the couch again with a snort. “That’s the cool part about being your own boss. I kind of pick my own hours.”

He doesn’t look particularly amused. “Sure, I know,” he says, because he was a business owner before her, even if he doesn’t take much time off at all these days. “But don’t you have, like, an event?”

She’s not surprised exactly that he remembers these details. JJ’s attuned to the things that matter to her. It’s only because of his pushing and support that she’s gotten this far. He’s invested.

Which is great.

But not overly relevant today.

“I need to finalize my plans, sure,” she says. “But other stuff comes up.”

She inclines her head at him purposefully.

“You came up.”

“Hey,” he protests, lifting his hand to point at his battered visage. “This was all Rafe.”

“It still came up,” she says. “So I’ll figure it out another day.”

She’s reaching for the remote, ready to transition them to something mindless and fun, but JJ seems set on this.

“You’ve been putting it off for weeks,” he says with a little frown.

For a guy with a concussion, his memory is great right now.

She fiddles with the remote. “Well, it’s a big decision.”

He’s sitting up now fully, looking worse for wear but not like he’s about to pass out. “We can decide today. I’ll help.”

He’s being genuine. There’s no ulterior motive; it’s a pure offer.

Which is why it’s so vexing. “We won’t do anything,” she says, and she lets her voice carry the reprimand. “You’re going to rest.”

JJ doesn’t take the note as well as she expects. “I said plan, Kie. Not run the damn thing.”

That’s a cute answer, but it’s not the point. She narrows her eyes.

JJ quickly pushes forward. “We’ll just brainstorm, I swear,” he says, a little too emphatic to be convincing. “I’ll even do it from the bed, if it makes you feel better.”

He’s being a bit of a shit about it – even if he is being sincere in his own way. Only JJ can pull of sincerity while being a genuine and willful pain in the ass.

She gives him a long, hard look across the table. “You know, when I told you last night to come up with ideas on how to pass our time, I was thinking of something more recreational.”

“Me, too,” he says with a wry chuckle. “But my head is killing me this morning, so maybe those nurses were right about taking it easy.”

She wants to be smug, but his admission makes her frown. “Do you need to take something? Are you experiencing any other symptoms?”

“I’m fine, Kie,” he says, just a touch exasperated.

“We didn’t fill the pain pill prescription,” she says. “I’d just give you Tylenol.”

“I can handle it,” he says.

“But you shouldn’t have to handle things,” she says. “If you want to feel better–”

He interjects, a little pointedly. “I want to help you plan your event.”

Even after a full night’s sleep, Kiara feels exhausted. The last thing she wants to do is think about work. “JJ–”

His face contorts into all out pleading. “I just need to get my mind off it,” he says, and he’s whining more than a little. “Please?”

It’s not fair, his full-on puppy dog eyes. She doesn’t know how it’s possible for a grown-ass man to elicit this kind of response from her, but JJ can do it with ease. He doesn’t usually turn it on for her, but apparently he’s making an exception.

She’ll blame the concussion for his effort.

As to why she’s about to give in?

Well, she can blame the PTSD for it all.

“Fine,” she relents, because he’s right. And he’s JJ. “Maybe we can plan a little.”

He perks up, looking far too chipper for someone with one eye swollen shut and a concussion. “So tell me what you’ve got.”

-o-

Kiara has copious notes. She’s been jotting down ideas for weeks now. But none of them have gotten much beyond a vague impetus. Every time she thinks the second event should be easier, the pressure of planning it is almost too much.

Basically, adulthood never gets easier. You never get used to it.

You have to keep making hard choices, and you have to keep doing the work.

Sometimes, it seems monumentally unfair.

JJ, though, doesn’t seem put off by her lack of progress. Instead, he has her go over her notes in great detail, asking prompting questions to sort each one out. The more he asks, the more she has to decide, and some of the ideas are clearly not as good as the others.

By lunchtime, they’ve settled on the best idea.

By dinner, he’s helped her work out the details.

When he’s finally too tired to keep going, they’ve got a full plan in place and Kiara’s got a to-do list a mile long for the next day. She’s typing a few emails to get ready, and JJ’s passed out on the couch. By now, his bruises are setting deep and purple across his face. The soreness in his joints is pronounced, and she’s reluctant to make him move. Instead, she covers him with a blanket, tucking him in right there.

When he stirs, she smooths his hair back. “Sh,” she soothes. “Just go back to bed.”

His eyelids flutter for a moment. “But the event–” he slurs, more from exhaustion than anything else.

“Tomorrow, JJ,” she says. “I’m going to do more tomorrow.”

His eyes are confused for a moment. “But I want to help–”

“You did,” she assures him. “Now, you need to rest.”

“But–”

She kisses him, just enough so he settles. “Rest.”

That’s all it takes; that’s all she needs. JJ goes still again, his breathing evening out. She lingers, stroking his hair until he’s out completely. She stays there longer still, wondering how she forgets sometimes how lucky she is.

Years have passed since she nearly lost JJ. So much time that sometimes she forgets the immediacy of it. Sometimes she forgets how uncertain she’d been that she’d get him through it. Sometimes she doesn’t remember that this almost never happened.

It’s impossible, right? Would she have ever made up with her parents? Would she have started the nonprofit? Would she be happy and married and settled?

And what about the rest? Would Pope and Cleo have made it work long distance? Would John B and Sarah have had Booker? JJ always thought of himself as the most expendable, but he’s been their heart and soul this entire time. He’s the glue that keeps them together.

He’s difficult, sometimes. He’s flawed and damaged. He still struggles to think things through, and he’s probably going to be in therapy with Sheila for most of his adult life trying to sort out the things Luke did to him.

She might never have understood without the cancer.

And JJ might never have let himself be helped without the diagnosis.

The cancer is the worst thing that ever happened to them, and yet it’s the lynchpin of everything good that’s followed.

It’s not fair that JJ has to suffer to make them all better.

But JJ does it so willingly.

For them, he’d do anything.

So she kisses him again because what else can she do? What else can she say?

“Rest, JJ,” she whispers. “Just rest.”

-o-

JJ sleeps on the couch, passed out for the night. Kiara manages a few tasks in the interim, updating the Pogues on JJ’s status and assuring them he’s fine but really not up for company. She checks with Cleo to make sure she can handle the charter for a few days on her own and finally she gets ready for bed.

The chairs aren’t great for sleeping, but she doesn’t want to leave JJ alone.

She doesn’t want to leave JJ at all.

So she turns off the lights and curls up under a blanket. Maybe this isn’t what for better or for worse meant in their wedding vows.

But, Kiara thinks as she closes her eyes and listens to JJ’s steady breathing, maybe it is.

-o-

JJ spends the next few days recovering, each one better than the last. By the end of the week, the only reason he’s staying home is because he looks so bad that it makes everyone who sees him nervous. When he gets restless, Kiara invites the Pogues over to help him see sense.

Cleo assures him that the charter is fine and better off not seeing him looking like that.

JJ protests it’s not that bad, and Sarah rolls her eyes. “Booker doesn’t even recognize you.”

JJ frowns.

“Besides,” John B says. “Do you really want the whole island to see what Rafe Cameron did? They don’t need to know he’s got a good right hook.”

JJ considers that. “I wasn’t even fighting back, man. I was being the bigger person.”

“And you got your ass kicked,” John B points out.

JJ glares at him. It’s more effective now that his eye isn’t swollen shut. “You all are supposed to be running interference for me.”

“Right, because we’re still worried about proving ourselves in front of the Kooks,” Kiara says in exasperation. “Seriously?”

“He started it, Kie,” JJ protests.

John B nods in earnest agreement. “We can’t let them win.”

“We are in our 20s now,” Kiara reminds them. “And successful.”

“It’s Rafe,” Sarah says flatly.

“We need every advantage we can get,” Cleo says. “We still don’t know his plan, do we?”

“Besides being an asshole?” JJ mutters.

“I’m pretty sure we’re going to find out,” Sarah says with a sigh, her eyes on Booker as he kicks restless at his baby gym on the floor. “Because I’m guessing this is just the start.”

It’s foreboding.

It’s also probably true.

The uneasiness settles over them, and JJ finally scoffs. “I never thought anyone would give my family a run for shit-heads of the year. But I think you got me this time.”

Sarah smiles ruefully, picking Booker up off the ground. He squawks, gurgles, and smiles. “The prize no one wants to win.”

JJ shakes his head in resignation. “And we’ll all end up losing anyway.”

-o-

JJ heals; the bruises fade. He goes back to work.

Rafe is still an asshole, but he steps back for a little bit. The charges get dropped, but he’s clearly got the message that his full impunity to act as he wants is gone. He’s still gobbling up the competition, and he’s still trying to bomb the charter with negative reviews. But every time she asks, JJ insists he’s got it under control.

She doesn’t necessarily think he doesn’t.

But she’s pretty sure that there’s no way to measure it. If they don’t know what Rafe wants, then they can’t know what they’re controlling. It just means Rafe hasn’t made a move yet.

And okay. That’s concerning, but there’s no time to dwell on it. The charter is busy, despite Rafe’s efforts, and Kiara is busy too. With JJ’s help, the second event is moving right along, and Kiara is able to secure a date and funding within a month. Advertising is a mad blitz, but she’s got the right avenues in place, and it’s not long before she’s pulling long hours trying to get volunteers, sponsors, and all the rest in place and ready to go.

It’s so silly, really. That Rafe is sitting around, trying to make the Pogues the center of his life.

When they’ve all moved on. They’re too busy for Rafe.

That’s what Kiara tells herself.

As days slip into weeks and she lets herself forget.

-o-

Forgetting is a luxury, though.

She gets the call from Sarah in the mid morning, hysterical and in tears. She can’t make it out over the phone, so she promises she’ll be there in two minutes. She drops her plans – cancels a meeting – and makes it to the Chateau as fast as she can. She finds Sarah clutching Booker on the front porch. She’s stopped crying by the time she gets there, but the look on her face tells her that something is still very, very wrong.

“What? Are you okay? Is it Booker?” she asks, rushing up to the porch. She looks Sarah over, looking for a sign of an obvious problem. It’s a relief that Sarah looks physically unharmed – Booker, too. But that’s about the only positive thing she can note.

“It was Rafe,” she says, breathless and quiet. “He was here.”

Kiara looks around, as if worried Rafe is still there.

But Sarah shakes her head. “I didn’t let him in,” she says. “I told him I didn’t want to see him, to leave–”

“Did you call John B?” she asks, sitting down gently next to her.

“No,” Sarah says, and her voice shakes. “He’s at work. I know he’s tired of this. It’s so much. I – I didn’t want to call him.”

“He’s going to have to know,” Kiara says gently, putting a hand on Sarah’s back. Booker fusses, struggling against the tightness of Sarah’s grip, having clearly been in one position longer than his little body prefers. His face is scrunched up, on the verge of tears.

“I know, I will,” she says. “But – I just–”

She’s losing control again, emotions spiraling, so Kiara is quick to calm her. “Not now, it’s okay,” she agrees. “What did Rafe do? Did he touch you?”

“No,” she says, and hiccups slightly. She reaches up to wipe away a tear, clutching Booker closer still despite the mewling cries he’s now emitting. “I didn’t let him in. He just raged on the porch, talking about family, how I was doing it wrong, how I had to honor Dad–”

Kiara is shaking her head. “He’s the one who’s wrong,” she says. “And your dad was wrong about a lot of things, too. Sarah, you owe Rafe nothing–”

“I know,” she says, her voice pitching. “But then he started talking about Booker, about how he had to know his family heritage.”

“And he will,” Kiara assures her. “We can pass on all the Pogues stuff. And the other things that still matter from your family, the good stuff. And maybe someday Wheezie–”

Sarah takes a deep breath, but that only seems to make her shake more. “The way he talked, though, Kie. He knows things,” she says. “He knows where we go on playdates. He knows the parks I take him, too. He knows where Booker’s doctor’s office is and what our favorite diaper brand is at the grocery store.”

Kiara’s stomach flips; she’s not sure what to say. “I don’t get it–”

“He’s following us,” Sarah says. “Or he’s paying someone else to do it. He has to be.”

She puts a hand protectively around Booker’s head, dipping her forehead down to his.

Kiara’s whole body goes numb, her limbs tingling as she tries to process this. She can’t put it past Rafe – if anything, it makes sense. She just doesn’t know what to do about it.

“How did you get him to leave?” she asks finally.

Sarah sighs. “Persistence, I guess. When it was clear I wasn’t going to let him see Booker, he left,” she says. She nods down the porch where a package is sitting at the other end. “But he left a present. Said he wanted to give it to his nephew.”

Kiara looks at it. Professionally wrapped and adorned with a bow.

Somehow, that only makes it more ominous. “I can get rid of it,” she offers.

Sarah nods.

Kiara gets up and walks over to it, picking it up cautiously. There’s nothing overtly suspicious about it. It doesn’t make a sound or feel too heavy. She resists the urge to open it, carrying it across the porch instead.

“Can I just–?”

Sarah nods, not bothering to speak.

Kiara exits the porch, taking the package around to the garbage cans. She opens the trash and hesitates. The principle of getting rid of it is sound.

But she is a conservationist.

She glances back and tepidly opens it. The paper is recyclable at least, so she dumps it in that bin. That’s when she sees the box.

It’s a custom shipped box, that much is clear. She pops it open and is surprised to see an elaborate toy boat.

She throws the box in the recycling and inspects the boat. It’s crafted with care – not something designed for a baby or even a toddler. At best, it’s a display piece.

Then she realizes what kind of boat it is.

It’s a yacht; the kind all up and down the Figure Eight.

Her fingers linger over the name, glossed on the facade. My Druthers.

The bastard created a replica of Ward’s boat.

The boat he blew up to fake his own death.

That boat had traumatized Sarah. That boat had probably saved Rafe’s future, cementing his father’s confession for the murder Rafe himself committed.

It’s either a sick ploy to remind Sarah of that past.

Or it’s a horribly misguided notion from a man who truly doesn’t understand the harm he’s caused.

Either way, this thing? Is trash.

She opens the trash bin and throws it in, hard enough to shatter.

When she makes her way back, Sarah is clearly expectant. Her posture has eased slightly – enough for her to put Booker down on the bouncy chair, positioned next to the couch on the porch.

“Done,” Kiara says, sitting down with a smile. “We don’t have to think about it anymore.”

Sarah bites her lip, though, looking wholly unconvinced. “Until he comes back.”

“We don’t know he’ll come back–” Kiara starts to say, but it sounds so stupid that she stops.

Sarah shakes her head. “Sometimes I think I should give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Kiara makes a face. “I know everyone is capable of change–”

“But not Rafe,” Sarah concludes in agreement.

“He has tried to force his way into your life without any respect for your boundaries,” she points out. She shrugs. “And he’s trying to mess with JJ.”

“He literally beat JJ up,” Sarah says. She shakes her head, decided. “No, I just – no. I just don’t get it. What the hell he thinks is going to happen?”

“I think he’s just entitled; he always has been,” Kiara says. “Most Kooks are.”

Sarah inclines her head in tacit agreement.

“And the drugs probably undid a few screws,” Kiara adds. “Everyone is capable of change, but you have to want it. And Rafe? I don’t think he wants it.”

“No,” Sarah says, resolute about this. “He just wants what he wants. Instant gratification like he got his whole life. But I’m not dad. And Booker isn’t some prize to be won. He can’t be Rafe’s messed up legacy.”

“Sarah, we need to call John B and let him know,” Kiara says, reluctant about it.

“He’s already threatening to hire a full time employee so he can stay home with me,” Sarah says. “I can’t–”

“You can bring Booker over to my place,” she says. “For part of the day at least. If that would help.”

“You’re working,” Sarah says.

“You still have to watch him,” she says. “But you’d be safer, maybe. And it would keep John B from going crazy.”

Sarah considers it.

“But I kind of think John B should go crazy,” Kiara admits.

Sarah sighs, dropping her face into her hands. “When is he going to stop?” she moans. “I mean, he has to stop.”

“It will,” Kiara says, even though she’s not sure why. She’s not sure how. She’s not even sure when. She manages a smile all the same. “It will.”

Chapter Text

-o-

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

-o-

John B does, indeed, freak out. Kiara is the one who convinced him to let Sarah bring Booker over, an idea that only makes JJ feel like he needs to stay home instead. He’s worried about a target on her back – since there’s already one on his.

But Kiara won’t be swayed.

They’re Pogues.

They don’t back down.

And they do it together.

-o-

It works, more or less. Rafe keeps his distance, at least for a while. JJ says he hasn’t been around as much down at the charter, and that the smear campaign has eased at least temporarily.

It’s kind of fun having Sarah and Booker around, honestly. Booker’s a great distraction, and Sarah is more than willing to help out with the planning for the event. Sarah gets a part-time babysitter, and Kiara gets a part-time partner, and they’re both a little safer from whatever Rafe may or may not have going on.

After a few weeks, she lets herself think maybe it’ll be okay.

Maybe Rafe has chilled.

But then she runs into her dad.

She’s stopping by The Wreck to pick up something her mom left her – and her dad offers her dinner on the go. As Kiara hates cooking, she’s not exactly keen to reject the offer. Her dad does make good food after all.

As she’s waiting for it to be done, they make small talk on the patio. It’s a quiet night, just before the dinner rush, and it’s just cool enough that no one has been seated here yet.

After talking about the nonprofit and The Wreck’s contributions, her dad seems to grow quiet. Kiara frowns, not sure, but he doesn’t make her wait.

“Look, I just – thought you should know,” he says, and it’s halting and awkward and weird as they stand together at the empty bar.

Kiara feels her hackles rise, but she can’t explain why.

Her dad, at least, picks up on the social cues. He knows he’s being cagey, so he seems to blurt the punchline. “I’ve heard talk.”

The look on his face is definitive. This talk isn’t good.

He takes a breath, as if willing himself to finish. “About Rafe Cameron.”

She’s not said shit to her parents about Rafe. It’s not a secret, but it’s also just not something she talks about.

So her dad shouldn’t know.

But he does.

The look on his face suggests he knows a lot.

“The rumors have been going around for a while,” he says. He pauses, spreading his hands across the polished surface. “That Rafe is making a move to wipe out the charter soon. Everyone knows it’s personal, even if no one will call him on it.”

“He’s been sniffing around, sure,” she says, trying to circumvent where this is going.

She can’t, though. Can she?

Her dad is sober.

“I saw Rafe, honey,” he says. “He plays nice in public, but the threats were real. He told me it was good we had reconciled, because JJ may not be able to provide for you forever.”

Her stomach drops. Her palms sweat on the other side. She wants to brace herself on the bar, but she’s too numb to move.

“I asked him what he meant, you know,” he says, inclining his head. “And he made snide comments about Pogues always being Pogues. And Maybanks always being Maybanks.”

She hates him. She hates him so much. The rage swells in her gut, almost eclipsing her fear.

“It’s all bullshit, Kiara. Big talk from a man who can’t admit how small he is,” her dad continues.

“But what will he do to prove otherwise?” Kiara asks, almost unable to stop herself. “He just keeps pushing. I keep telling myself there’s nothing he can do, but I don’t know. I don’t get him, Dad.”

He nods, earnest and in agreement. “I would like to think you’re right, it’s nothing,” he says. “But there’s something dangerous about him. I’m not sure he knows his boundaries.”

“He doesn’t think boundaries apply to him,” Kiara retorts. She takes a breath and turns away. “He never has. The bastard.”

Her dad follows her a step, lingering close behind her. “People like that – you can’t trust them.”

She glances back at him, letting her eyebrows go up. “You’re a Kook now, Dad.”

He inclines his head. “It’s never really been Kook versus Pogue, has it?” he says. “It’s just good people and assholes.”

It’s a perfectly candid thing to say, and it makes Kiara smile. It’s easy sometimes to forget her dad is more than a caricature. He’s a person, too. And he’s been Pogue and Kook.

And maybe more than both.

“So, what can we do?” she says, giving a little helpless shrug. She’s asking, is the thing. She’s been dealing with this long enough on her own. If he has advice, she’s probably willing to listen.

He sighs, chewing on the inside of his lower lip. “The cops?”

There was a time when the mere suggestion would have been ludicrous. But their exploits are legal these days, and JJ is an upstanding citizen. She knows Shoupe has a soft spot for him.

Even so, the law is the law. “Rafe hasn’t done anything yet.”

“Assault–” he ventures.

“That didn’t stick,” she says.

“JJ didn’t press the charges, though, did he?” her dad says.

“I don’t know,” Kiara says, waffling a bit now. “You can’t arrest someone just for being an asshole.”

“Kiara, I just don’t want you to underestimate him,” he says, even more seriously now. “I’m worried about you. And JJ.”

He adds on JJ’s name, but not quite like an afterthought. It’s almost uncertain, like he’s not sure his concern would be welcomed.

“I know,” she says softly. Because she does know, doesn’t she? She knows that her dad loves her. And she’s starting to see that he’s accepting JJ, too. “But what can Rafe actually do?”

“A guy like that?” her dad says. “He will use anyone he can to get to Sarah.”

Her heart flutters slightly. “And you think he’ll use JJ?”

He wets his lips and draws himself up soberly. “I hear stuff, Kiara. People talk shit on this island, and I hear a lot of it. Rafe clearly thinks JJ’s your weak link.”

Now, her chest swells, and the indignation is palpable. “He’s wrong.”

“I know,” her dad says. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t try to hurt JJ in the meantime. And JJ’s been through so much–”

She nods quickly, blinking hard to keep the tears in check. “We’re being as careful as we can, Dad. I just – I don’t know what else to do.”

“I know,” he says, and he reaches out, hesitating before he puts a hand on her shoulder. “You can come to me if you need something. With our home in the Figure Eight, you and JJ might be safer.”

She shakes her head, though. “JJ would never leave home.”

Her dad nods, like he knows this would be the answer. “Then, just be careful, Kiara. Look out for yourself,” he says, and then, he adds, “And look out for JJ.”

-o-

When the food is ready, Kiara is reluctant to leave – and reluctant to stay. She’s anxious now, making her way back home, and she can’t bring herself to go. She swings by the charter instead. She finds Cleo there – with JJ still out on a tour.

“Shouldn’t be long,” Cleo says, checking the time.

“And he’s – okay?” she asks, looking anxiously out the window at the sea. Then down toward Rafe’s charter.

Cleo doesn’t miss it. “He’s fine,” she says. “And Rafe’s been a no-show all week.”

She nods but there’s no confidence in the gesture. “That’s good, I guess.”

“Girl,” Cleo says with a mild sound of exasperation. “If you have something to say, just say it.”

“I just – am worried,” she says.

“Nothing new has happened all week,” Cleo reminds her.

“That’s it, right?” she says. She bites her lip and shakes her head. “Why go silent all of a sudden?”

Cleo shrugs. “Maybe he’s finally grown a brain.”

Kiara’s look makes it painfully obvious how unlikely that is.

“Point taken,” Cleo says. “But I got nothing else to go on.”

“I know,” she says. “I just – am getting a bad feeling. About how this could escalate. He already beat JJ up. In public.”

“Which means he’s maxed out his options,” Cleo reasons. “What else can he do?”

“He literally killed a cop,” Kiara reminds her. “He tried to kill Sarah more than once. I mean. I don’t think he believes rules apply to him.”

Cleo sighs. “What would you have me do?”