Me and the Devil

46.

The Jeep rattles down the familiar stretch of road, gravel whispering under the tires, the engine thrumming like a second pulse in my chest. I’m chasing the red taillight glow of Rafe’s bike ahead, but when we turn past the trees that crowd JJ’s house, something pulls my eyes away.

He’s there.

JJ stands in the yard, shifting from one foot to the other, his hands twitching at his sides. He keeps glancing at the front door, jaw tight, like he’s counting down to a moment he can’t avoid. The morning light washes over him, unforgiving, shadows under his eyes, shoulders drawn tight, chest rising and falling too fast. He looks like someone forcing himself to move when every instinct is telling him to run.

I pull over before I even think about it. The door creaks shut, gravel crunching beneath my shoes as I walk toward him. JJ startles when he sees me, then that familiar grin flickers to life. Crooked, reckless, softer than it should be. For a second, it’s almost like we’re kids again.

“Funny, huh?” he says, voice scratchy, trying for light but breaking in the middle. “You always had a way of showing up when I needed you.”

The words knock the air out of me. Because once, that was true. Once, I would’ve gone through fire for him. Maybe I still would.

I step closer, and he leans back just enough for his eyes to rake over me. His grin fades. He sees it. The glassy shine in my pupils, the jitter in my hands. His jaw tenses. “Jesus,” he mutters, low, more to himself than to me. “You’re just like him now.”

Shame bites, sharp as the burn still lingering in my nose. I want to deny it, to tell him he’s wrong, but my silence betrays me.

Instead I blurt, “Let me go in with you. You don’t have to face him alone.” My voice comes out too quick, too desperate, like I’m begging for a chance to be who I used to be.

He shakes his head fast, blond hair catching in the sunlight. “Nah. You know how it is. Luke smells fear. He’ll eat me alive if I walk in there with backup.” His voice cracks on the word “Luke,” but he swallows it down, forcing a smirk.

“JJ—”

He cuts me off with a laugh that isn’t really a laugh, just a sound to keep from breaking. “Don’t let him eat you alive, either. Rafe.” His eyes lock on mine, sharp and aching. “And don’t forget me when he does.”

I want to fight him. To grab his hand and drag him inside with me. To shield him the way none of us ever could when we were kids. But instead I just stand there, my throat tight, my nails digging crescents into my palms.

JJ squares his shoulders, inhales like it hurts, and pushes the door open. Through the window, I see it happen. Luke stumbling toward him, the air assumingly thick with booze and anger. And then, impossibly, Luke’s arms wrap around JJ, and JJ folds into him like he’s a father worth holding. For one split, broken moment, they hug.

It rips me apart. Because I know it’s hollow. Not love, not safety. Just survival. And JJ takes it anyway, starving, like crumbs are better than nothing.

My vision blurs. My chest caves. And I know this might be the last time I see him like this, bare and breakable, still reaching for something better. The boy who once made me laugh until my stomach ached. My family, my first real love. The boy who made me believe I belonged.

By the time JJ pulls back, I’m already moving. I climb into the Jeep, heart breaking in silence. Rafe’s taillights are nothing but a red smear ahead.

And I follow. Chasing the man who lives on the edge of madness, who pulls me closer even as the world warns me to run. The man who is all sharp edges and broken promises. The man I choose anyway, because when he looks at me, I believe I was meant to be his.