what now? | outerbanks

• eighty-eight •

JJ

    "Holy shit."
    It takes me a second to take everything in, but once I do, my heart drops. Standing there on the porch, shirt ripped and dirty, eyes wild, is Luke. He stumbles a few steps forward, and with him comes his stench. He smells like booze and piss and cigarette smoke.
    He squints up at me, mouth parted like he can't figure out what planet he's on. "Heeeyyyy, look at that," he slurs. "Kid still answers the door."
    I don't say anything. I just press a hand against his chest and push him back—not hard, but firm enough.
    He stumbles, catching himself on the porch railing. "That's how you treat your old man," he mumbles. "You never were a good kid."
    I step forward, blocking the door. "Leave."
    He lets out an empty, drunk chuckle. "I'm just—I'm just kidding, JJ. I just need a minute to sit."
    "Find somewhere else," I say, voice tight and cold with anger.
    His eyes flare, like he's surprised. "You serious right now? You'd leave your own blood out here?"
    From behind me, Kiara's voice cuts in, soft but worried. Her arms slide around my bicep, pulling me in close. "He's wasted, JJ." She shuts the door so that there's only a small crack. "We can't just let him wander around like this."
    I shake my head. "He's been wasted since I was six. He'll be fine."
    "JJ..."
    My stomach's already turning. My whole body's tight. I can't believe he showed up like this—now, of all times. Does he know we've been digging? He's been off the grid for years, and he has the audacity to show up at my door, slurring and stinking and falling apart like always? I clench my jaw so hard it hurts.
    I want to slam the door in his face. I want to tell him to get lost and never show up again. I want to watch him walk away and forget about him for the rest of my life. But Kiara's looking at me like she needs to help. Like if I turn him away, I might regret it.   
    I look back at him. His eyes are half-lidded now, like he's about to drop. Dirt streaks his face. His hands are trembling. He's a mess.
    But he's still my dad.
    "Fuck." I step aside. "Fifteen minutes. Then you're gone."
    Luke stumbles past me into the house and collapses just inside the doorway, a crumpled heap against the wall, legs sprawled like a ragdoll. His head lolls back, eyes barely open.
    Kiara hesitates in the hallway, arms crossed tight. Then she disappears into the kitchen without a word. When she comes back, she's holding a glass of water and one of my old t-shirts. She tosses the shirt at him like she's feeding a wild animal, then sets the water on the floor a few feet away.
    "You need to drink water," she says flatly. "And put the shirt on. You smell like shit."
    Classic Kiara. She hates Luke just as much as the next person, but it's in her to help. She can't sleep right knowing she did the wrong thing.
    Luke groans and drags the shirt into his lap, barely even looking at it. "Didn't come here for a fashion show," he mumbles.
    I stay standing, arms folded across my chest. "What do you want then?"
    Luke blinks up at me. "Got kicked outta my place."
    "I heard," I say. "Miller, right?"
    His head snaps up, alert in that feral way he gets when he feels cornered. "How the hell do you know that?"
    I don't answer. Neither does Kiara.
    He snorts like it's funny. "'Course you know. Always poking your nose in my business."
    His hand trembles as he reaches for the glass. He doesn't drink it. He just holds it in both hands like it's some lifeline. His eyes look glassy. He's halfway gone already.
    "I didn't do anything," he mumbles, voice rough. I almost don't even hear it. "Wasn't my fault."
    Kiara stays quiet, her back against the wall. She's watching him, but her expression doesn't soften.
    Luke swallows thickly. "Said there'd be no trace. That it would be easy and we'd leave as soon as it was through."
    "Who?" I ask.
    He shakes his head like he doesn't hear me. Or maybe he just doesn't want me to know. "She ran the second it got ugly. Took herself off of everything. Left me standing there with the whole fuckin' mess."
    I step closer. "Who ran?"
    He licks his lips. "That bitch," he breathes out. "She—she made it sound like it was nothing. Her idea, all of it. Then she turned. She tricked me."
    Kiara and I exchange a glance. My throat goes dry.
    Luke shifts, head resting against the wall. "You think I killed him?" he mutters, eyes fluttering half-shut. "That wasn't me. It's all her."
    He starts rambling after that—bits and pieces. Something about files. Something about paying a guy off. Something about putting his name on 'it.' None of it makes sense, but still, every word makes my skin crawl.
    I pull Kiara around the corner to the kitchen. "Dad just—don't move."
    She looks stressed. "What do we do?" she whispers.
    "Are you kidding?" I scoff. "We throw him out."
    She sighs, shaking her head. "JJ..."
    "I mean it," I snap. "He doesn't get to crash here like everything's fine. I can't—I'm not doing this."
    "I get it," she says quickly. "Trust me, I get it. And I know that this is our house, and I know that we don't owe him shit, but we can't just throw him outside either. He's wasted. He's not even making sense."
    My fists are clenched at my sides. "So what? Do you really think I care where he ends up?"
    She leans against the counter, rubbing her eyes as she thinks. "I think you do. As much as we both hate him, I think you're a good enough person to care at least a little bit."
    "Well, you're wrong," I say, but I know she doesn't believe me. And I know she's right.
    "Okay, if he can't stay," Kiara adds, "then I'm calling him a cab."
    "Fine."
    She disappears into the bedroom to find her phone, talking to a dispatcher of sorts in only a few seconds. I just stand there, watching Luke slump further into himself like he's dying.
    When the cab pulls up, we have to half-haul him out of the house. His feet drag. He's muttering again—something even more incoherent than before. I shove him harder.
    Luke stumbles as we try to guide him down the steps. He's dead weight, muttering under his breath.
    "Cab's here," I say through gritted teeth. "Get in."
    He plants his feet like a mule. "Nope. I'm not fucking gettin' in that thing."
    "Seriously?" Kiara snaps. "You can barely walk."
    "I said no!" he barks, swatting her hand away like a fly. "I'm not goin' anywhere with them. It's not safe." Once again, incoherent.
    I shove him again, not even hiding the disgust in my chest. "You want to sleep in the street, go for it. I'm done."
    Luke stares at me, wild-eyed and defiant, then takes a shaky step backward. He glares at Kiara, eyes mean and hazy.
    "You're lookin' just like your old lady, Carrera," he slurs. "She was always a bitch, but man was she a smoke show."
    I snap. "Don't talk to her!"
    He grins—sick and smug and pathetic. "Takes a certain kinda whore to follow a Maybank around. Hope she knows what she's in for."
    I lunge forward. Kiara grabs my arm before I can get to him. "JJ. Let him go."
    My whole body's shaking, but I let her hold me back. Luke just stumbles off, laughing under his breath, disappearing into the dark like the stain he's always been.
    I slam the door behind me. I don't know if I mean to or not, but it happens anyway. Kiara walks up beside me, arms crossed and eyes soft in that way that just makes everything worse. It guts me.
    I grab my phone with hands that won't stop shaking and fumble my way to my contacts.
    Kiara takes it out of my hands and eyes me warily. "Let me do it."
    Sarah picks up fast. Kie walks into the kitchen, but I can still hear the call.
    "Hey," Kiara says gently. "Sorry, it's late."
    "No worries," Sarah sighs. "Wasn't sleeping anyway. Baby's awake."
    Kiara glances over at me, then back down. "Luke just showed up at the door. He was super drunk and talking nonsense. We called him a cab, but he refused. Just wandered off."
    There's a beat of silence, then Sarah's voice cuts sharp. "What the fuck? Is JJ okay?"
    Kiara hesitates. "I think so. Just wanted to let you know. Be safe, alright?"
    "Yeah. Thanks for calling. John B.'s asking to talk to JJ."
    Kiara walks back to the living room and hands me the phone. I don't even think before taking it. "Hey," I mutter into the receiver.
    "Hey, man," John B. says. "You okay?"
    I bite the inside of my cheek. "Just... lock your doors, alright? I don't think he'll try anything, but..."
    "But you never know," he finishes.
    "Yeah."
    "Call me tomorrow?"
    "Yeah." I hang up before he can say anything else.
    The second the screen goes black, I feel it. That old weight. That rage. That ache in my ribs like something's crawling up from the inside, trying to choke me. I throw the phone down onto the floor. Kiara flinches.
    I head back into the kitchen without a word and pour myself a glass of water. I don't drink it. I just watch the surface shake because my hands won't stay still.
    Kiara walks in a minute later. She's quiet. "Babe..."
    "I'm fine." It comes out too fast, too sharp. I hate that I do that, but I don't take it back.
    She just blinks. "I know you're not."
    I stare at the counter. It needs to be cleaned. "It's nothing I haven't dealt with before."
    "That doesn't make it easier." She's quick. She's wise.
    I snort, empty and bitter. "Why are you still being nice to me?"
    "Because I love you," she says, like it's obvious. "And because I know this isn't about me."
    "I hate how he still gets to me," I finally say, barely above a whisper. "After everything. I hate it. I mean, Jesus, I can't get a break. We finally have a night where we can sit and rest, and he has to show and screw everything up."
"He's gone now."
    "He's never gone!" I snap. "You think this is over? It's never over with him. He disappears for years and still finds a way to fuck up my life."
    "JJ, it's okay that this messes you up."
    "I'm not messed up."
    "Okay." That's it. Just okay. No argument. No lecture. No guilt. Just that calm, steady Kie energy that makes me want to scream and pull her into a hug at the same time.
    I drag both hands down my face. I know I'm being a dick. I know I shouldn't be snapping at her. But I don't know how to stop.
    "I'm sorry," I mutter. "I just... I can't—"
    "I know. I know, baby." She steps closer and places her hand on my chest, barely more than a touch, but it feels like the only thing tethering me to the ground. "You don't have to explain it to me. I'm right here."
    I look at her, and my chest aches—tight and sore like a bruise I forgot about until someone pressed on it. She's too good to me.
    She rises on her toes and kisses my cheek, then tugs gently at my arm until I let her pull me down onto the couch. I resist out of habit—stubbornness, pride, whatever—but I let her win. I want her to win.
    Kiara curls into my side like she always does, tucking herself beneath my arm, her fingers finding mine. She starts tracing little shapes on the back of my hand with her thumb—back and forth, back and forth—and I swear it's the first thing that's felt right all afternoon.
    "Just breathe, okay?" she whispers.
    For a little while, it helps. My forehead rests in that spot between her shoulder and neck, and the world stops spinning. For a moment, the noise quiets, and it's just the two of us, sitting in the soft kind of silence that only exists with someone who knows you too well.
    But the calm doesn't last. It never does.
    "She," I say suddenly, the word rough in my throat.
    Kiara straightens a little. "What?"
    "He kept saying "she." She ran. She tricked him. It was all her plan."
    "So?" she shrugs. "He was drunk, JJ. Nothing he said made any sense."
    I shake my head. "No, come on. Think about it, Kie. Really think."
    She frowns, but I see it click. I see her eyes sharpen as the pieces start to fall into place.
    "You think it's Rose."
    "Bingo."
    She leans back just slightly, brows knitting. "And you really want to piece this together now? In the middle of the night?"
    I nod. "Sure as shit. I'm not sleeping till this is done."
    She lets out a slow sigh, but there's no resistance in it. Just understanding. That's the thing about Kie—she's not afraid to tell me when I'm crazy, and when I am, she doesn't run away. She just stays. Holds my hand a little tighter. Keeps me from drowning in it.
    "Okay," she says softly. "Then let's figure it out."