JJ slid his arms around my back and held on tight as he wept into my neck. I had lost count of the number of times he'd cried in my arms over the years, as a result of the way his dad treated him. Usually, it was after he'd been beaten or threatened—this time it seemed different. Perhaps because his years of suffering were over. He was free, so maybe it was relief. I wasn't sure. I just hugged him against me until he settled down.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he said eventually, his voice thick with tears. "This has become a habit."

"It doesn't matter. Anybody else would be the same if they had to deal with what you had to."

"It's not even that he did anything this time." He pulled out of my arms and rubbed his hands over his face. "It's over. I'm free of him and I kind of feel lost. Is that stupid? All he ever did was treat me like crap and hurt me."

"It's not stupid. He was still your dad, even though he was an asshole to you."

"I don't think anyone else would see it like that." He sniffed and pulled himself up onto the kitchen counter, where he sat with his legs dangling. "There was this one time I never told you about. You know part of it. Remember a couple of years ago when Pope sank Topper's boat, and I took the rap for it? My dad came to get me from the holding cell at the cop station."

I nodded. "I remember. You got beaten up in there."

"No, I didn't. We got in the truck and my dad punched me in the face. My lip split and blood sprayed all over the window. He stopped because someone walked by, but he got back into it when we got home. I told you I was grounded for a week, but I could barely get out of bed after he finished with me."

"Oh, JJ." I was horrified. "You should have told me."

"You couldn't have done anything. Your dad had gone missing a few weeks before and the DCS were on your case about foster care. I couldn't have stayed with you then."

"Pope's dad could have—"

"He wouldn't have done anything. He's never liked me, and the one time I did go over there, when you and your dad were out of town, he thought the blood on my face was from fighting and he turned me away. He thinks I'm a troublemaker and a bad influence on his son. Pope didn't know then either and I didn't want to tell him the truth. He and Kie only knew a bit of what went on."

"I'm so sorry. I should have been there," I groaned.

"You were there. Always. Even when you weren't there physically, I knew you had my back, so don't worry about that. It's over now. I'm free of him." He sniffed again and forced a small smile. "That's enough drama for one morning. Are you gonna make me some coffee, or what?"

"Sure." I switched on the coffee machine. "What do you want to do today?"

"I don't know. Anything. Surf?"

"Okay. Whatever you want."

"I have to work later, but I've got the morning free."

I finished making the coffees and passed him one. "I have to work, too. Mr Cameron wants his lawns mowing. Assuming he hasn't decided to fire me for ditching Sarah. Shit, I hope she's not there." I cringed at the thought.

JJ smiled a little. "If she is it'll go one of two ways. Either she'll hide in the house and avoid you, or she'll follow you up and down the lawn all afternoon begging you for another chance or calling you every name she can think of."

"Thanks for that." I grimaced. "Now I want to go over there even more."

JJ laughed.

"At least it cheered you up. You can think about me this afternoon, mowing Cameron's lawns at top speed, trying to get it done and escape."

"You might be lucky. They could be at the club, and I'll get to serve their poncy asses instead." He wiped his nose on the back of his hand and sipped his coffee.

Despite his joking around and laughter, he was still shaky, but I didn't mention it. Instead, I dug out some of the party leftovers and we ate spicy chicken and birthday cake for breakfast. Then we headed out in the Twinkie with our boards to catch a few waves.

Things between us were the same as always that morning. We talked and surfed but didn't touch or kiss at all. I kept wanting to touch him—just to squeeze his hand or rub his shoulder, or something like that, but I kept my distance. I wasn't sure enough of us yet. It was too new, and we were too used to being just friends. I wasn't confident enough. Perhaps he wouldn't welcome me being all touchy-feely all of a sudden. Add to that, he was a guy, and I didn't know if guys liked affectionate cuddly shit when they were with other guys. I wanted to be like that with JJ, but would he? I found myself behaving the way I had for years—glancing at him when I thought he wasn't looking and longing to reach out and brush his hair out of his eyes, or stroke his arm, or kiss him. A few times I caught his eye as he looked back at me, but neither of us said anything until I was driving us back to the Chateau.

"Pull over."

"Huh?" I glanced at JJ while trying to concentrate on the uneven road surface.

"Pull over," he repeated.

I slowed the Twinkie and pulled onto the dusty grass under a tree. "What's up?"

JJ shrugged. He picked at a fingernail and stared at the floor—again, un-JJ-like behaviour. "You don't have to keep your distance from me all the time. Not now."

"Uh, well, I—" I swallowed. "I guess I'm just not sure what you want. It's different out here than at the house."

"Why is it? No one's around." He looked at me suddenly, his eyes filled with longing and confusion. "Do you not want me or—?"

Shit. My own worry about doing something that might be rejected resulted in him feeling like I didn't really want this. I reached for his hand and threaded my fingers through his. "I'm so used to hiding how I feel," I admitted. "I want to touch you all the time, I just—" I paused and lifted my free hand to brush his hair out of his eyes, exactly as I'd imagined doing a dozen times that morning. "I wasn't sure if you would want that. I mean, not because of, uh, what happened with your dad, I just didn't know if guys are all cuddly and shit together."

JJ laughed loudly, and the worry disappeared from his face. "Fuck what anybody else does. If you want to be all cuddly and shit with me, I'm sure as hell not going to complain."

I relaxed and smiled.

"You know all those times I got the crap kicked out of me by my dad and was bawling over it, and you hugged me and stuff?" he went on. "I used to wish that it wasn't 'cause of that. That maybe you wanted to hold me for some other reason."

I grinned wider. "I used to wish that all the time, too." I let go of his hand and slid my arm around his neck instead, drawing him closer. He grabbed a fistful of my shirt and pulled me more towards him. Then our lips met, and I forgot about everything else. He tasted salty, like the sea, and his lips and tongue were warm and eager. I combed my fingers through the damp strands of his hair and slid my other arm around him.

My pulse quickened and my dick hardened. If only we weren't parked at the side of the road. I didn't want to let go of him to drive the last couple of miles home, but if I didn't, we couldn't take this any further and I was desperate to. Reluctantly, I broke the kiss and pulled back. Smirking, JJ adjusted a very obvious erection. "Sucks that we're in a public place." He rolled his eyes.

"Huh." I shifted the Twinkie into gear and pulled her back onto the road. Then I caught sight of her clock. "Sucks more that we both have to go to work in less than an hour."

"Fuck." JJ slumped back in his seat and adjusted himself again. "Gonna be a long afternoon."

Forty minutes later, after we had both showered off the sea and changed—me into clean jeans and t-shirt and JJ into the white shirt, black pants, and waistcoat he had to wear for his waiting job at the club—we reluctantly parted. JJ took his motorcycle, which had lived at the Chateau for the last six months to prevent his dad selling it behind his back, and I drove the Twinkie to the Camerons' mansion. By the time I parked on their drive, my palms were sweating, and my mouth was dry. I hoped to God they were all out and as both Sarah's car and her father's were missing, it seemed I was in luck.

Ten minutes' later, I was mowing the lawns, and for the hundredth time wondering why they didn't have a tractor mower. The gas-powered mower took hours to cut the enormous grassy areas around the property, and I probably walked miles while I was doing it. I passed the time by thinking about JJ and hoping if the Camerons were at the club, they weren't giving him too much of a hard time.

Finally, I was done, and I put the mower back in the metal shed it was kept in. As I closed the door, a hand slammed into the door above my head. I spun around, shocked, and found myself face to face with Rafe Cameron. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were wild, the pupils dilated. He was clearly as high as a kite and angry—a bad combination with Rafe who had been a little crazy before he ever touched cocaine.

"Rafe." I gave him a polite nod. "I was just leaving."

"I've been watching you," he said menacingly, leaning closer. "All those hours, cutting our lawns. You know you're not getting a penny for it. You're fired."

"Your father employed me. It's not down to you to do the firing if I'm not wanted anymore."

Rafe's other hand crashed into the shed door, and I found myself trapped with my back to it. The guy was as skinny as a rail and wiry, but he was stronger than he looked. I'd found that out once a few months back when I tried to save Kiara after Rafe got hold of her with the idea of having a coke-fuelled romp on the Camerons' yacht. I'd been there with Sarah and because Kiara was friends with both of us, she'd been invited, too. Rafe wasn't even supposed to be there. Apparently, he'd planned it all and hidden below the deck until we were all partying. I'd managed to get him off Kiara and she and Sarah scrambled onto the jetty and ran, but I'd wound up with a few bruises for my trouble.

"Are you listening to me?" Rafe roared in my face, and I realised the memory had distracted me.

"What did you say?"

"I said—"

I winced as saliva sprayed from his lips into my face.

"—that Sarah was always too good for you, you piece of shit. She's had a lucky escape. Hell knows what she ever saw in a fucking deadbeat Pogue, but you did her a favour."

"If you're happy she's free of me, what are you so mad about?" I asked.

"Because you're an asshole!" he yelled. "You hurt my little sister! Do you think I like hearing her cry?"

"Well, I'm sorry about that, but like you said, she's better off without me." I tried to slip out from between his hands, but he grabbed a handful of my hair, which for the first time in months, I wished I had cut. It hung over my collar in a tangle of curls, and he wound his fingers into it, yanking hard until I felt as if it would be torn from my scalp.

I brought up both hands and shoved against his chest. He staggered back slightly, but didn't let go of my hair, and I yelped as a tuft was ripped out. He came back with both fists swinging. I ducked the first easily, but the second connected with my stomach. I bent over, wheezing and coughing, and his knee slammed up into my face. Already tender from the punch I'd received from JJ when he was dreaming, I groaned in pain and collapsed onto my knees. Blood dripped from my nostrils onto the fancy paved pathway.

"Rafe!" Sarah's shriek made her brother spin around. I squinted up to see her marching up the path. "Leave him alone!"

"It's only what he deserves," Rafe replied.

"We broke up. He doesn't deserve to have the shit kicked out of him," Sarah said.

"But I thought you'd want—"

"No!" She gave Rafe a push and he almost tripped. "Leave him alone," she repeated.

Glowering, Rafe turned and walked away. Surprised, I dragged myself to my feet and pulled up the front of my t-shirt to dab at the blood.

"Go home, John B," Sarah said. "I'll make sure my dad sends you the money for today."

"Uh, thanks. Am I fired, then?" I mumbled.

"That's up to my dad, not me or Rafe."

"Thank you. Are you okay?" I ventured.

"I will be. Just leave, will you? I don't want to see you right now." She followed Rafe and disappeared around the corner of the house.

Still winded, I shuffled to the Twinkie and drove home.