Snippet from a WIP where JJ and Lukeās conversation about Larissa and the Genretteās goes a different direction. Loosely inspired by the Noah Kahan song.
#jjmaybank #denydenydeny #outerbanks #noahkahan #lukemaybank
JJ tried to breathe. Which was supposed to be simple, right? Just in through his nose, out through his mouth, nice and slow and even and controlled like the way Kiara was always getting on him about.
She called it guided meditation and said it was grounding and spiritual, all the things she swore by.
To him⦠it was all kinda bullshit.
But to herā¦it was a last-ditch effort sheād taken up as a way to keep him from completely losing it so JJ was willing to give it a try for her.
Only for her.
It didnāt matter either way now though because it wasnāt working and truth was, he couldnāt really remember the last time it had actually worked at all.
Maybe before the letter?
The stupid-ominous-fancy cursive-big words saying a whole lot of shit without actually saying anything at all-letter.
Or maybe it was before he walked into their living room today with a dead body and Pope covered in blood and Cleo just staring off behind them like if she didnāt look at Terrance lying there it wouldnāt be real.
Maybe even before that.
Before Kiara on the beach with that baby sea turtle in her hands and a jeep revving towards her. On the dock claiming heās never taken her on a real date like every night theyād spent together on the boat or in bed talking until the sun came up, every day spent surfing or fishing or every time heād planned just them doing something he thought was special hadnāt been good enough. Before the hospital bracelet on her wrist or her face under the water, screaming for air that wasnāt there.
Before she almost didnāt come back because of him.
Before she almost died because of him.
Yeah. It was definitely sometime before that.
He let out another deep breath and dragged a hand down his face, eyes set out on the water like the lapping waves could actually give him something, any glimmer of relief in his chest like it used to, if he just stared out long enough.
It didnāt.
He was messed up, that was for sure. And the shittiest part was that he was so close to having it all.
Like it really wasnāt actually that long ago that he thought he knew what he was doing. Or at least he knew how to fake it good enough to pull off that he did.
The money, the house, the snapper, the shop, the whole āgetting his shit togetherā thingā¦
Kiara.
It was like for a second there, he actually thought, really, truly thought, he wouldn't screw it up.
But that was his thing wasnāt it?
Screw it up, burn it down, and act like it doesnāt matter except it does. It always does.
And now heās justā¦here, sitting on freaking Barracuda Mikeās dock, staring out at water that doesnāt give a damn about him anymore, alone, waiting on a phone that probably wonāt ring.
So he tried to breathe, he really did, but it came out shaky and rattled in his chest. He blinked back hard, salty-sea breeze stinging like glass in his eyes and pressed his palm to his chest.
Lately, for some reason he canāt quite place, it felt like he didnāt even know who the hell he was anymore. Which was insane, because heās JJ Maybank. Just two letters, just JJ. A native Outer Banks local, a salt-lifer, a Maybank, a Pogue down to his bones.
It was supposed to be simple, life after chaos. They did it, after all. They got the gold, he got the girl and settled down.
But ever since the storm and the shop went down and the bills started stacking back up again and the Enduro and Wes Genrette and the amulet and those damn words digging a hole in his headāask him about Albatross, nothing has been simple.
And then the phone rang.
JJ didnāt grab it right away, just stared at it, watching it vibrate against the wood of the dock for a second questioning whether he actually wanted to answer it at all. Maybe not knowing was better than whatever can of shit he was about to open. He wanted to let it go. Maybe let the phone shake right off the edge of the dock and disappear into the dark water forever.
Maybe let it take him with it too.
Problem solvedā¦maybe.
Not really.
He shook his head and grabbed at the phone, hitting accept before he could talk himself out of it.
āYeah?ā He cleared his throat. āYeah.ā
For a second it was just static, enough time to force another breath, then a voice he hadnāt heard in so long broke through.
āHey, J. Itās your old man.ā










