riptide- outer banks

130 | the bounds of luck

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Pope stared down at the map long after John B left him sitting in the front of the Jeep. His pointer finger brushed over the distinct lines and past the faded letters that spelled out where they were headed: Agapenta. As soon as Cleo got them on the road again, that's where they would be driving to. That's where the Blue Crown supposedly was.

"62 miles." He murmured, finally lifting his head up to shake it.

They could make it there, but back?

Pope let out a sigh and glanced behind himself. His brow furrowed together, eyes narrowing at the back row. Everyone else had spread out, stretching their legs, purchasing parts to fix their means of transportation, or going to the bathroom. But not Logan. He was still in the backseat, hand braced across his ribs like it was second nature by now.

And Pope was just realizing why he hadn't moved a muscle since they'd stopped.

He set the map down on the dashboard before climbing into the back and easing into the seat beside Logan. Letting out a quiet exhale, he didn't say anything. Neither did Logan. They just sat there for a few moments, a soft silence settling between them.

Pope didn't turn to him when he spoke, arms squarely folded across his chest. "You haven't moved since we got here."

The breath that fell from Logan's mouth was humorless. "I'm resting my legs."

Pope raised his brow. "We've been sitting in this thing for over an hour."

There was a beat.

He tilted his head, giving Logan a sideways look. "Scale of one to ten."

Logan's jaw twitched. The number he'd been spouting off was on the tip of his tongue, a solid '2.5' to keep everyone off his back. A stupid joke to keep people from worrying about him. But Kori wasn't here. Neither was Sarah. It was just Pope. And Pope wouldn't have asked him unless he already knew the answer.

"Seven." He admitted, head tilting. "Eight every time we hit a pothole or I breathe too deeply."

Pope slowly nodded his head, studying him for a moment. "You know, I've known Kori since we were five." He paused, eyes narrowing. "Well, she was four. Point is, you're not like her. She's impulsive. Puts her life on the line for all of us without considering how it could affect her own. You're more careful, but you're just as stubborn."

Logan didn't understand what he was getting at, but he didn't ask. He just listened.

With a sigh, Pope continued. "This...what we're doing, it's not like the other times. It's not like the Cross or El Dorado. It's different because if you go down, we don't get to circle back." He explicated, head barely shaking. "Something goes sideways and you get caught in the crossfire, it's game over. Kori's tough, but she's not invincible. And if something happens to you because you do something you think is heroic when it's really just plain out stupid, it won't save her. It'll break her."

His words hung in the air, heavy and quiet.

Clapping a hand on Logan's shoulder, Pope leaned forward. "So don't be a hero, man. Don't be the guy who takes the hit when he can't afford to. You gotta make it out of this. That's the only thing that matters to any of us. Not some old crown."

Logan's mouth twitched up. "The crown kinda matters."

Pope dropped his hand, head shaking at him. "Yeah, maybe. But you, alive and standing, is what matters more. Not you half-dead and stubborn enough to get yourself killed."