JJ

You ever get that feeling that you're on the edge of something big, but you're not sure if it's a cliff or just the beginning of something new? That's where I've been lately, teetering between what's familiar and the unknown, and I'm not sure which way I'll fall.

Fixing the Twinkie earlier should've helped clear my head, but it didn't. It's like there's this cloud hanging over me, thick and heavy, and no matter how hard I try to shake it, it just won't go away. Part of me knows it's because of Luke—because of the way he's been getting worse lately, more unpredictable, more dangerous. But it's not just that. It's everything. The treasure, John B, Sarah, Kie... It feels like everything's changing, and I'm not sure where I fit in anymore.

After Kie left the wreck yard, I couldn't stay there. The silence was too loud, too full of everything I didn't want to think about. So I did what I always do when I'm feeling like this—I went to the Chateau. It's the one place that's always felt like home, even when my own house didn't. Big John's old place, with its rickety dock and the boat that's seen better days, it's where John B and I spent most of our childhood. It's where we dreamed up adventures and planned out our futures, back when everything seemed a lot simpler.

Now, I'm lying in the hammock out back, staring up at the stars, trying to find some peace in the familiar. But even here, the weight of everything is pressing down on me. I can't escape it, no matter how hard I try.

I hear footsteps on the deck, and I know it's John B before he even speaks. He's always had this way of showing up right when I need him, even when I don't want to admit it.

"Hey, man," he says, settling into the hammock next to mine. He's close enough that I can feel the slight sway as he gets comfortable, but he doesn't say anything else right away. Just sits there, letting the silence stretch out between us.

I'm not good with silence. It makes me feel like I have to fill it with something, anything, just to keep from drowning in my own thoughts. But John B's different. He's always been okay with it, like he can hear something in it that I can't.

"You ever think about just... leaving?" I ask, surprising myself with the question. It's been on my mind for a while now, this idea of getting out, of running away from all of it. But I've never said it out loud, not even to John B.

He doesn't answer right away, and I can tell he's thinking about it, turning the question over in his mind like he does with everything. "Yeah," he finally says, his voice quiet. "Sometimes. But where would we go?"

I shrug, even though he can't see it in the dark. "Anywhere. Just... somewhere else. Somewhere we don't have to deal with all this shit."

He's quiet again, and I know what he's going to say before he even says it. "We can't just leave, JJ. Not with everything going on. Not with my dad out there."

I close my eyes, trying to push down the frustration that's bubbling up inside me. I get it. I do. Big John is everything to John B, and I'd never ask him to walk away from that. But it's more than that. It's this feeling that no matter where I go, I'm never going to escape what's inside me—the anger, the fear, the memories of Luke. They're always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to pull me under.

"I know," I say, even though I don't really know what to say. "It's just... sometimes it feels like there's no way out."

John B shifts in the hammock, and I can feel his gaze on me, even in the dark. "There's always a way out, JJ. We just have to find it."

I wish I could believe him. But right now, it feels like all the doors are closed, and I'm trapped in this life I didn't choose, with no way to break free.

We sit there in the silence for a while longer, and I can feel the weight of everything we're not saying hanging between us. It's like we're both standing on that edge, waiting to see which way we'll fall, and neither of us knows how to make the first move.

Eventually, I hear the sound of a car pulling up, and I know it's Kie. She's been coming around more lately, checking on John B, on all of us, really. But I know she's worried about me, too. And as much as I want to push her away, there's a part of me that's glad she's here.

"Hey, Jayj," she says when she reaches the deck. Her voice is soft, like she's trying not to spook me. "Mind if I join you guys?"

"Sure," I mutter, not really in the mood to talk, but not wanting to be alone either. She climbs into the hammock with John B, and I can feel the tension ease just a little, the way it always does when we're all together.

For a while, we just sit there, staring up at the stars, not saying much. It's comfortable, in a way, this silence that's filled with so much history, so much shared experience. But I can't shake the feeling that something's about to break, that we're on the brink of something we can't come back from.

And then, as if she can sense my thoughts, Kie speaks up. "You guys ever think about what's next? Like, after all this?"

It's a simple question, but it hits me like a punch to the gut. Because the truth is, I haven't thought about what comes next. I've been so focused on surviving each day, on getting through the next fight, the next run-in with Luke, that I haven't even considered what the future might look like.

"Not really," I admit, my voice sounding rough even to my own ears. "I'm just trying to get through today."

Kie doesn't push, but I can feel her eyes on me, and I know she's thinking about what she wants to say next. "You're gonna make it through this, JJ," she says, her voice firm but gentle. "And when you do, we'll figure out what's next together. All of us."

It's a nice thought, but I'm not sure I can believe it. Not yet. But sitting here, with John B and Kie by my side, I feel a flicker of hope. Maybe she's right. Maybe there's a way out of this after all.

For now, though, I'll settle for the stars, the silence, and the company of the two people who've always been there, no matter what. We're not out of the woods yet, but at least we're in it together. And maybe that's enough.