what now? | outerbanks

• seventy-nine •

Kiara

Morning light sneaks past the curtains and lands on my face. I squint, blinking slowly awake. Sarah's already up—her side of the bed is empty. I listen for her footsteps.
She's moving around the room quietly, probably trying not to wake me. I stretch under the covers, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves in my stomach. Last night's wedding still buzzes in my head, but now there's this weight between us—the secret the boys kept, the lies.
Sarah's voice floats in from the bathroom, "Kiara? You awake?"
"Yeah," I call back, pulling the blankets off. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and rub at the sleep in my eyes. She doesn't say anything else, so I get up and walk to find her in the bathroom.
    When I find her, she's hunched over, hands gripping the counter, face tight. "Hey," she grits out.
    "Oh my—"
    She shakes her head fast, squeezing her eyes shut. "I'm okay. It's just Braxton Hicks again. Can you just—" She juts out her hand for me to hold, and I wrap my hand around it immediately, letting her squeeze as tight as she needs.
    "Does it hurt?" I ask, not knowing how else to help.
    "Not really, just a lot of pressure. Everything feels really tight."
    "Do you need anything?"
    She shakes her head again, squeezing my hand for a few more seconds before letting it go and exhaling. "Yes, maybe?"
I wait with her for a few more moments and then leave her to make some tea. I'm filling the kettle with water when I hear her shuffling down the steps and settling down on the couch. I move the kettle to the stove, and it slams down a little harder than I'm expecting. I see Sarah flinch a little at the loud sound.
"Sorry. I didn't get much sleep last night," I mumble.
"Me neither," she says back. "JJ didn't come home?"
I look down at my phone, checking for texts I know probably won't be there. "No. He called last night after you fell asleep to tell me he was staying at your place."
"Sorry for making you take care of me," she says quietly, trying to bend over enough to tie her shoes. She must give up, though, because a minute or so later she stands up and slips on a pair of my flip-flops.
"Please, Sarah. It's nothing."
"No, I mean, I'm grown enough. I really just need to handle it on my own." She looks slightly flustered now, walking around the kitchen and looking for any of her things she needs to gather.
"Sarah, that's not true. This affects all of us. You shouldn't handle it on your own," I say, pouring the now boiling water into two mugs with tea bags. "Here, sit."
She rolls her eyes but sets her bag down and sinks into the sofa. I sit next to her.
"Does Cleo know?" I ask.
"I think she knows the guys have been doing more than we know, but I don't think she knows anything else. I didn't even tell them I was leaving."
"Are you scared to talk to them?"
She sips her tea slowly. "No. Not yet, at least. Maybe things will change when we get to the shop."
I get up from the sofa with my mug in hand, staring down at Sarah. "Give me a second to put on some other clothes. Then we can leave.
Upstairs, I get dressed quickly—just jean shorts and a tank top from the shop—and throw my hair into a clip. There's no time for effort this morning. When I get back downstairs, Sarah's asleep on the sofa, head propped up on one of the cushions. She looks smaller than usual, and quieter in a way I can't help but be nervous about. I feel horrible waking her, but we have to leave.
    "Hey, Sleeping Beauty," I whisper, brushing hair out of her face. "We gotta leave."
    She blinks up at me, red-eyed and groggy. "Five more minutes?"
    I shake my head gently. "C'mon."
    She groans as she sits up, one hand on her belly. "Fine."
    I help her stand fully and lead her to the front door. "Were you dreaming?"
    "Yeah."
    "About what?"
    She chuckles lightly, but there's no humor in it. "About the days when we were looking for gold in some psycho lady's basement instead of getting ourselves wrapped up in this stupid murder case."
    "Yeah," I say quietly. "Me too."
    The ride to the shop is pretty much silent, aside from the constant rattle of the Twinkie and the occasional hum of discomfort as Sarah shifts in her seat. She keeps one hand braced under her belly like it's become instinct.
    The only time Sarah speaks is when we're pulling onto the street that leads to the shop.
    "I just can't believe this. I mean, if what Rafe said really is true, I don't know how JJ isn't freaking out."
    I pause. I keep driving, but my mind stops and my head turns slightly in her direction. Why would JJ be freaking out? "What do you mean?"
    Sarah falters, realizing she's said something she wasn't supposed to. "Kie—"
    "Sarah? What did Rafe tell you?"
    At this point, we're pulling into the shop's parking lot, so I park and turn off the van.
    Sarah looks petrified. "It's something Rafe said, but I really don't know the details, so I should probably wait for the boys to—"
    I don't wait for her to finish her sentence. I get out of the van as fast as possible, taking note of how Sarah is scrambling to unbuckle and get out behind me.
    "Kie, don't be mad!" she calls after me.
    My heart pangs. "I'm not mad at you, Sarah. I'm mad at the boys." Sure, I'm a little hurt that she knew something and kept it from me, but it was the boys who started this thing in the first place. Plus, I could never be truly mad at Sarah.
    When I walk into the shop, I observe the boys moving around—JJ pacing, Pope leaning over the counter, John B. with his arms crossed tight over his chest. Cleo is sitting on the floor on the edge of a surfboard, picking at the peeling paint with her thumbnail.
    The room is heavy with tension. JJ's eyes are darting around like he's ready to jump out of his skin. Pope looks up from his laptop, face drawn and tired. John B. straightens, searching for Sarah instantly.
    The guys know they fucked up, but they're just waiting for the other person to start talking first.
    "Sarah," John B. says, voice soft.
    She stops in front of him but brushes past when he reaches for her. "Not now," she mutters.
    JJ's eyes find mine weak yet calculated, like he's trying to gauge how much I know. I turn away from him quickly, not wanting to get stuck, and rather turn my attention to Cleo.
    "Cleo," I greet with a nod. She salutes back to me, and I can tell she's just as mad as Sarah and me.
    Now, all three boys are lined up against one side of the room, frailer looking than usual, and we three girls are standing opposite them, hands on hips and scowls on faces.
    A few moments go by, then I sarcastically spit, "Well, not all at once."
    JJ glances at John B. and Pope, then back to me. "We found some stuff."
    "No kidding," I mumble, leaning against the counter beside Cleo.
    John B. shifts, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, we know you're pissed. We get that. But we had to look into it. There's already one guy dead, and now some assholes are making threats to, like, immediate targets. We couldn't just sit back and do nothing."
    Sarah grits her teeth. "You could've told us."
    Pope sighs. "That wasn't an option."
    "We wanted to, but with the wedding and getting the shop back in shape for the summer, and everything else going on, we just thought it'd be better to wait." JJ takes his cap off of his head to smooth his hair back down.
    Cleo snaps. "Wait for what? All that shit's over now, and it still looks like you were never planning on telling us."
    "We were," rebuts John B. "We were just trying to find the right way to phrase it all. We were trying to be safe."
    "It's not called being safe, John B., it's called conviction! You knew you were wrong, so you were doing whatever you could to avoid telling us!"
    "Baby, that's not—"
    "I had to hear from Rafe, of all people, that you guys found ties between Miller and—" JJ cuts her off before she can finish speaking.
    "Sarah, be careful what you say," he says warily. Now I'm really suspicious.
    "Enough!" I shout. "What's so bad that you can't tell me? Sarah already said something weird, so don't lie and say it's nothing."
    Cleo clears her throat, peering at the boys knowingly, waiting for one of them to answer. Does she know too? Am I the only one who doesn't know? Suddenly, I get a sickening pit in my stomach, feeling betrayed.
    "Kiara, baby, I really think it's better if I tell you this on your own. I don't know—"
    "Bullshit!" I'm practically furious at this point, and I'm not even sure what it's over.
    "Okay, but if you freak out—"
    "Just tell me!"
    JJ looks at his feet for a few moments and then back up at me, toying with his wedding band as he tries to find the right words. "It's Luke."
    "What?!" I shout. "Your dad?!"
    Pope eyes JJ like he's making sure he doesn't say anything dumb. "I was looking through records, and we found out that Miller was a super messy guy."
    John B. cuts in. "We're talking complete rip-off-type messy."
    "He had some under-the-table help," says Pope. "And these minions were benefiting from every deal Miller made."
    I roll my eyes, exhausted with the backstory. "And this connects to Luke, how?"
JJ's pacing now, fidgeting his lighter back and forth in his hands. "We're not really sure yet, but there was some sketchy transaction made between him and Miller. Something labeled 'Debt Paid.'"
"When was it recorded?" Cleo asks.
"Around a year ago."
My mind is racing with possibilities and hypotheses, trying to find some connection between it all, but there's just too much.
"See why we wanted to wait?" JJ asks.
I scoff. "Do I see why you wanted to wait? Absolutely not! This is your dad, JJ. Your fucking dad! I'm your wife now; we don't go around keeping secrets, especially not when it has to do with family ties."
Cleo reaches for my arm to steady me, but I push her off. "And you knew too! You knew and didn't think to tell me!"
"Kie—"
"No! Even—even if this wasn't about Luke. Even if you'd found nothing, it's the principle of it all. You looked into it. Sarah made you guys promise and you still did it!"
John B. adds, "All we did was some research."
"You promised!" Sarah yells. "I said I don't want you guys in this, and you know damn well why not. This isn't safe!"
"We were only keeping it a secret in case it was nothing," Pope mumbles, feeling the weight of our anger.
Cleo steps closer to him. "It's not nothing, and you know that."
John B. steps forward, his eyes fixed on Sarah. "Sarah, I swear. We didn't mean to keep it from you. We were just trying to figure out what it meant before we—"
    "But you can't do that anymore!" she snaps, voice breaking. "You can't just decide to protect us by keeping us in the dark. That's not how this works."
John B. closes his eyes, shoulders sagging. "I know."
I shake my head, her arms crossed tight. "And what now? You think you're gonna go after Luke? Or, maybe the guys that threatened Tanneyhill? You're gonna go after them and get yourselves killed?"
JJ looks up sharply, like I struck a nerve. "No one's going after anyone," he says quickly. "We were just digging. That's it. We're not planning some kamikaze run."
"But that's exactly how it starts," I bite back. "A little digging, then one of you disappears for a night, and the next thing we know, someone ends up in a hospital or—or worse."
Sarah makes a small sound beside me—half agreement, half exhaustion—and lowers herself slowly into one of the shop chairs. She presses a hand to her lower back. No one moves to help her, like we're all frozen in this thick, bitter moment.
JJ steps forward, hand out like he wants to reach for me, but I step back. "You should've told me. From the second you knew anything. We're not just your backup singers, JJ. We're not on the sidelines."
"I know that," he murmurs, eyes glossy. "Kie, I know. I just—I didn't want to drag you into something if it turned out to be nothing."
"But now it's not nothing," I say, quieter. "Now it's worse because you dragged us in without telling us."
    There's a long pause. The kind that makes everyone's skin crawl. Then Sarah speaks again, her voice tired and frayed. "Rafe's the one who told me."
    JJ immediately stiffens. "Of course. I told you it was a bad idea to tell him."
    "Please don't talk bad about him," she says, not looking at him. "He's doing really well."
    The room goes still.
    Finally, Pope closes his laptop with a quiet click. "So what do we do now?"
    I glance between the boys—still clustered together, still looking like scared kids who got caught sneaking out—and then to Cleo and Sarah. They're tired and angry, but here. Still standing.
    I exhale slowly. "Now? Now we decide if we're in or out. All of us. No more secrets. No more splitting sides. No more pretending one of us isn't going to be the next target."
    JJ rubs his jaw and nods, eyes on me. "I don't want to lose you, Kie."
    "Then don't lie to me," I whisper.
    He steps forward slowly, and this time I don't back away. He wraps his arms around me, and I let him, even though my stomach is still in knots.
    Behind me, I hear John B. murmur something to Sarah, and she nods faintly. Cleo nudges Pope with her foot, and he sighs like maybe they're okay too.
    We're still furious, still frayed at the edges. But at least now, everything's out in the open.
    Cleo straightens, lifting her chin. "We do it the right way."
    Pope looks at her, eyes narrowing. "And what's that?"
    Cleo's jaw sets. "We get eyes on them. Track them. Luke and the others. But we do it smart. No running around playing detective."
    I nod, my heart pounding. "And we don't do it alone. We talk. We plan. We stay together."
    JJ shakes his head, pacing again. "That's not enough. If they know about Luke—"
    "Then we protect you," I cut in, her voice firm. "And we protect each other, but we don't go off half-cocked and make it worse."
    Sarah crosses her arms, jaw clenched. "Team effort."
    John B. steps closer, his hand brushing against hers. "Team effort," he echoes, voice soft and heavy.
    Sarah stands up, adjusting the waist of her shorts—they're an old pair of JJ's, since I didn't have anything she could fit. "Shit!" she curses. "I'm supposed to pick up Wheezie before Rafe and Sofia leave for their honeymoon."
    She scrambles, finding her phone and things, but I stop her. "It's okay. I'll go get her."
    "What? No, it's fine."
    "Sarah, I'm serious. You stay here with John B.," I say. "JJ, wanna come with?"
He takes a swig of something. "Not really—"
I knock the bottle out of his hand. "I said, JJ, wanna come with?" I say it extra harshly this time, making sure the boy gets the hint that I'm actually demanding him to come with me.
"Oh," he says, surprised. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess so."