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sincerelyjxyy · 1 year ago

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Gold Rush - Thirteen

Invisible String - Gold Rush

Chapter Thirteen - Without You, I Am Nowhere

Song Of The Chapter - Seven by Taylor Swift

✧ and the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it. — richard siken, crush ✧

Summary: The pogues have to deal with the consequences of submitting to their vengeful feelings.

Warning: Please note that I am NOT a law professional by any means. Any legal jargon/ideas depicted are the act of a twenty minute Google search. take it all with a grain of salt :)

Word Count: 10.3k

Gold Rush Masterlist

THERE ARE DAYS IN A PERSON'S LIFE THAT DETERMINE A GREAT DEAL OF WHO THEY ARE AND WHO THEY WILL BECOME. Days that are picked out specifically from one's timeline of life and then placed into a box labeled Me. And in those days are moments—little fractions of time that define the ones that follow, until the ending of their story.

Of course, it's not always obvious when those days will occur. It could be anything as simple as a day where you pick up a book that reforms you. It could be as big as the day you decide to entwine the rest of your life with someone else's. But one cannot just go looking for their defining days and moments; they simply come when it's meant to be.

At the beginning of one of her days, Josephine Grey sat at the counter of Heyward's with three of her four best friends—a melancholic wind swirling around her hunched frame.

They'd all agreed to help out with business at the shop for the day—a common occurrence amongst the pogues—as they anxiously awaited word from an MIA John B. The most Josie had received from him was a text asking her to decrypt a paper from the Chapel Hill archives written by Denmark Tanny. Because, somehow, John B had weaseled his way in there.

She'd stayed up until three in the morning figuring it out. The letter served as a distraction from her ever-growing sorrow, but it wasn't enough to keep the tears she'd shed from falling onto the pages.

She'd decided to stay at the Chateau after the fight, too worried about JJ and too ashamed to face her mother after the ending of her relationship. Her excuse was that Kiara had an emotional breakdown and needed her, and it was enough for Petunia. In reality, she and Kie had spent an hour cleaning up both boys after their encounters.

It was then followed by a thirty-minute lecture from the Carrera girl as she yelled at all of them.

After Josie had driven to drop Pope and Kiara back off at their respective homes, she'd made the last-minute decision to return to John B's home. The hole in her chest pulled her in different directions, wanting nothing more than to go home and cry to sad songs but also wanting to make sure JJ didn't bleed out on the couch.

A bit dramatic on her part; she was aware. But he didn't mention it, and neither did she.

Shortly after the sun had risen, they all agreed to lie low and find time to chill at Heyward's. No one brought up the elephant in the room of Josie's somber mood, which she was grateful for. They also didn't point out how harmful it was whenever she opened her phone to scroll through texts and photos shared with her boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend.

The one problem, according to Josie, was that while they hadn't mentioned her hasty breakup, the boys had not stopped reminiscing on the unfair fight. And she could do nothing but uncomfortably listen as they comforted themselves about their losses.

JJ sat to Josie's left on the counter, as Kie manned the register and Pope helped some customers that came for pickup orders. The aforementioned blond messed with an orange from the display behind them, and Josie watched in soft amusement as he bounced it off his arm.

"Don't let it get in your head, bro. There's four of them and two of us," JJ offered. The nasty cut on his lip served as a reminder of that power imbalance. "That's some typical kook shit right there."

"Hell yeah," Kie added in agreement. Josie only offered a hum as she fiddled with a candy display. Her thoughts traveled back in time to the moment when she'd witnessed her boyfriend holding JJ back for Rafe to take punches as he pleased. How she had to watch Kelce and Topper take turns inflicting pain on Pope.

It was disgusting. Vile. Revolting. It made her physically unwell.

"What was your thought process, with using your head?"

"I don't know, man. I just kind of acted off instinct, alright? I was a cornered animal," Pope reasoned, supporting his outburst. The boy had admitted that the fight had grown bad when Pope headbutted Topper in the face, which explained the welt on his forehead.

Josie had, involuntarily, belly-laughed at the image of Pope knocking the shit out of Topper before they'd arrived on the scene. She was admittedly quite impressed with Pope's gumption.

"Hey, Pope." Pape Heyward's call for his son turned the heads of the group. He approached them, much sterner than when he'd left them minutes prior, and threw his thumb over his shoulder. "Someone here to see you."

Shoupe walked around the corner of the entrance. JJ instantly hopped off the counter to stand in the deputy's direct eyesight of Josie.

"Shit!" Josie's involuntarily loud curse caused her eyes to widen like saucers. She immediately slid down from her spot in a mixture of shock and panic. She ducked down behind the register and Kiara, looking for a space to hide under or something to cover herself with.

"Evening, officer," Pope greeted cautiously, even though it was noon. The shake and tension in his voice were prevalent as he eyed the deputy.

Shoupe sighed knowingly, and Josie froze every single movement her body could've made. "Josephine, I saw you. Get up."

She peeked over the front counter, cautiously finding the unamused stare of her uncle as he approached the group. He was very serious, and it quickly dawned on her that Heyward had said that he was here for Pope—not her.

"I have an arrest warrant for felony destruction of property." Pope turned to gape at them in pure horror, expression identical to Josie's. Her brows shot up on her forehead as she discreetly tapped JJ's wrist. Numbness washed over her, as a buzz rang in her ears and coursed through her veins. "Keep your hands on the counter where I can see 'em."

Heyward was quick to question Shoupe's actions. Kiara raised her hands in the air and nudged Josie to do the same. But the redhead was too busy watching her uncle make his way around the counter and toward Pope. Her gaze flittered between both boys, and she watched JJ mouth something to Pope through clenched teeth.

Deny, deny, deny.

Josie felt like she'd faint right there—like her legs were going to be kicked out from under her and have her tumbling to the ground. An imaginary fog-like hand clasped its palm around her jugular as she stared into Pope's eyes.

She'd vowed that he wouldn't be held culpable for what had happened. She'd promised him that she wouldn't let anything happen to his scholarship. She could've stopped him in the first place—done something to keep her fears from becoming a reality.

She had to do something.

"Uncle Vic," Josie called out, seeking to reason with him. But her voice was lost in the sea of confusion as Heyward and Kie questioned his motives. The perplexity was valid; felony crime wasn't something that Heyward thought Pope would ever do.

"Take a look at the warrant, Heyward," Shoupe smartly replied to the disputes. Josie gaped at her uncle as he pulled Pope's hands behind his back, pulling the handcuffs from his side.

"I'm sorry, you're just gonna arrest him?" Josie echoed Kie's calls of disbelief. The girls shared an incredulous and concerned look as protests flew from everyone.

"Okay, you're just gon' arrest my boy?" Heyward was both stunned and annoyed as Shoupe detained his son.

Josie felt like her whole world was crumbling down in front of her. How could they have found out who'd done it?

"What's the proof?" JJ accused, growing agitated with the deputy's lack of communication and all of the yelling and arguing happening because of the cop.

Kie eyed the cuffs Shoupe tightened. "Be careful!" But with how much shock Pope was in between the commotion, it almost seemed like he wouldn't even be able to tell if the restraints were too tight. She glanced back at the other two desperately, while Shoupe read Pope his Miranda rights.

Josie grabbed at her creased temples, racking her brain for legal implications—certain things that may stop Pope's arrest—but she came up blank. Everything she'd ever learned flew out of any recollection window she'd had. She was choking under the pressure of stress.

"How much did they pay you, man?" JJ again questioned accusingly—the obvious implication of kook bribery not lost on anyone who overheard the boy's query. Josie couldn't help but consider the irony in the statement, given that she was said cop's blood relative.

She grabbed JJ's wrist as they followed everyone out, voices continuing to yell and dispute anything Pope was blamed for. She tugged JJ closer to her and leaned up to speak directly by his ear. "It was me."

His gaze turned down to her, eyes narrowed as his brows creased in confusion. She clenched her jaw, considering her decision for a moment, before motioning her head toward Pope as they walked amongst their indignant loved ones. "I'm gonna take the blame—say it was me. I can't let him go down like this."

Sparing him only one last glance, she released his wrist, and they trailed the group out the door. She stuck closely behind an angered Kiara as she followed alongside Shoupe. Heyward moved to hold back a shouting and obviously confrontational JJ, whose shouts ranged from every name and accusation in the book.

Shoupe led Pope to the back door of the police truck, and Heyward moved to slow down the progression of his son's arrest.

Josie allowed herself one last look at Kie. She thought about the reaction Kiara would have when she spoke up. She thought of the repercussions she'd face from her mother and the community. She wondered if anything was worth the sacrifice she'd be making—to stain her permanent record forever.

But then her gaze moved to Pope and where he stood motionless from shock, and she knew that her decision would be the right one in the long run. Her lifestyle offered her a plethora of opportunities—ones Pope would never have.

So, with a deep breath and a silent affirmation, she stepped forward to state her claim.

"It wasn't him!"

Josie's head whipped to the side. Shock and dread filled her veins once she registered that the voice hadn't been her own, but instead belonged to her blue-eyed best friend. The rest of the pogues' eyes followed, staring at JJ in disbelief.

"It was me," he affirmed.

"JayJ," Josie whispered. She walked toward him and grabbed his arm in a plea to not do this, to let her do it, but he gently shrugged her off of him. He avoided her eyes as he stared at Shoupe, knowing he'd give in to anything she'd ask if he caught her green gaze.

Josie weakly watched as her world crumbled around her even more.

He made short footsteps toward them, leaving Josie to dreadfully reapproach her spot beside Kiara. He pointed at Pope as he spoke. "He tried to talk me out of it. But I was mad because he'd just been beaten up. I was so sick of those assholes from Figure Eight that I lost my shit."

Pope stared at him, bewildered that their blond friend was so willingly taking the bullet for him. And all Josie could do was watch.

She knew it'd seem like she was lying if she tried to cover for it after that. Now that JJ had put the idea in Shoupe's head, there was no doubt in her mind that he would just assume she was merely trying to cover for JJ.

There wasn't a time that Josie could recall when she'd felt more helpless than in that exact moment.

"I can't let you take the blame for somethin' I did. You got too much to lose." He glanced back at Josie—a silent conversation held between them. The storm waging behind his beautiful eyes almost made Josie sink to her knees on the concrete. He wasn't just doing it to stop Pope's life from being ruined; he was also stopping Josie from ruining hers.

Pope's brows furrowed. "JJ, what're you doing?"

"I'm telling the truth." JJ fleetingly offered a bitter smile. "For once in my goddamn life, I'm gonna tell the truth." He turned to make direct eye contact with Shoupe, who huffed doubtfully at the sentiment.

Josie caught sight of the thumb and forefinger JJ subtly moved against one another at his side—a clear indication of when he was lying. Josie could read it like her favorite book; the way his body responded to different emotions and actions was not difficult for Josie to pick apart. And, for once, she hated being right.

"I took his old man's boat too." He nodded toward Heyward, and Josie huffed out a breath as she shook her head.

"What the hell?" Heyward looked like he wanted to smack JJ upside the head, and he probably would've if it weren't for his son interrupting.

Pope, however, was still unwilling to let JJ be punished for something he hadn't done. "JJ, come on-" But one of JJ's most defining traits was his stubbornness, and the younger boy cut him off before he could say anything more.

"Just shut up, Pope! Just shut up." He visibly gulped, replaying his words in his head. He considered the most efficient course of action to get the cuffs off of Pope and onto him. Josie had never seen him so considerate of what his next choice of words would be, waiting with bated breath as he glanced at Shoupe. "He's a good kid." Another pause.

"Y'know where I'm from."

Josie was certain everyone on the island could hear the sound of her heart cracking in her chest.

"Yeah," Shoupe confirmed—a simple agreement of the Maybanks' reputation understood without needing to be verbalized.

JJ nodded, jaw clenched and tongue pressed to his cheek. "This was all me." He sent another glance over his shoulder at Josie, and she could see the hurt and pain in his face as soon as he did so. They were firmly hidden behind the walled exterior that few could pick the lock of, but she effortlessly found them in the dark corridor of his eyes.

There are days in a person's life that determine a great deal of who they are and who they will become. Days that are picked out specifically from one's timeline of life and then placed into a box labeled Me. And in those days are moments—little fractions of time that define the ones that follow, until the ending of their story.

It took everything in her not to cry, tightening her lips and glancing toward the sky. She willed her tears to stay away, squeezing her eyes closed. Whatever God was out there must've had it out for her, surely. She couldn't believe they'd ended up there.

Pope sighed out in distress, wide-eyed, as he stared at the boy who none of them would've ever expected to voluntarily offer himself to the police. The air filled with unspoken arguments, demons of the teens fighting one another as they tried to be each other's martyrs.

"That's the whole truth?" Shoupe directed at Pope, who stared back hesitantly. He had no clue how to answer that question, obviously not wanting JJ to take fault for something he'd done.

"Whole truth, swear to God," JJ answered for him.

Shoupe quickly snapped back at him. "I know what you think, damn it, I'm asking Pope here."

Josie helplessly stepped forward. "Uncle Vic-"

"Oh, you'll get yours, don't worry." He glared over at her, before turning his attention back to Pope. "Now, Pope?"

Pope pleadingly stared over JJ's shoulder at Josie, as if she could get the blond to back down. But JJ peered over his shoulder at the same time, nodding at her to stay back and let him do what he wished. She glared challengingly back at him, but he ignored the harshness of her stare and turned back to Pope.

He subtly nodded, sharing a long, silent conversation, and eventually, Pope nodded. Josie sighed in distress as he relented through a broken voice. "Yeah, that about covers it."

Josie watched her uncle remove the cuffs and stick them on JJ, who allowed himself one more look back at Josie. She dejectedly shook her head at him, but he only gave her a tight-lipped smile before climbing into the back of the truck.

The blue color of the vehicle brought her back to where they'd been only a week-and-some ago—carelessly giggling and joking in the back of a police car. She longed for that; she wished that their current situation could be like that, where Shoupe would let them go with a warning. She wished she could pull JJ from the confines of handcuffs and keep him from stepping into the path that was guided by his father's footsteps.

She just wanted to get him out of that stupid blue vehicle. "JJ, don't say anything! Don't say anything to anyone, okay? I'm gonna figure something out!" But he'd already admitted guilt; he'd said so right then and there. There was nothing more that the court would need.

As Shoupe backed away from Heyward's, Pope slammed his hat on the ground and cried out in anger. "Shit!"

Josie stared, motionless, at the retreating truck. Everything was blurred as she stared out into the nothingness, mind racing a million miles a minute. Her vision tunneled, only giving her the narrow view of where the truck had disappeared to.

She had to figure out something. This was all her fault. It was all her fucking fault. She had to find some way to get him out. He was in there because of her.

She had no clue how long they planned to keep him, and God knows his dad probably wouldn't be bailing him out any time soon.

Her phone, like an anchor to the real world, buzzed in her pocket. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was reminded that her mother expected her home to get ready for Midsummer's. But Josie couldn't focus on a stupid party—she couldn't even focus on her heartbreak—when her best friend had just been arrested for something he didn't do.

Kie laid a hand on her shoulder, and at once, all of her senses rushed to catch up with the rest of her body. It was so overwhelming that Josie had to press a hand to her forehead, groaning as the reality of their situation sunk in. Obviously, the first reaction that overcame Josie was to cry in frustration.

Without another thought, she made her way toward the Jeep, ignoring the calls of her name from her friends. Her hearing faded into a ringing, but she prioritized counting the steps to her car.

The keys she pulled from her pocket shook in her trembling hand, and she struggled to do something as simple as turn the lock of her door. Thrice, she tried to push the key in, before it slammed to the ground in spite of her intense grip.

As she bent down to pick them up, JJ's face hauntingly invaded her senses. His expression tormented her, when he'd interrupted and stopped her from claiming the blame as her own. The moment when he'd reminded Shoupe of who he was—of the disgrace that was laced in the letters of his family name. He'd looked back at her with sad smugness, as if every preconceived notion he'd ever had was proven right.

The look that claimed he could do nothing except forever prove that everything he and everyone else thought of him was true.

She couldn't control the tears and sobs that poured from her soul as she finally unlocked the Jeep, climbing in and turning it on without any moments to spare. As she did so, she audibly pleaded for the image of his face to go away—to leave her alone. Her brain masochistically caressed the bruises his bitter expression had made on her heart.

It wasn't true—none of it. The thoughts that plagued his mind were only the soulless words of a man who didn't know his truth the way she did. She knew him. He was better than any of them.

As she drove the car out of the parking lot, she repeatedly slapped the steering wheel. She kept her watery eyes on the road, but her focus was anywhere but on the cars surrounding her. Her world was blue, and she was drowning in the waves of realism.

She needed a plan.

The teen tried to think back to every conversation she'd ever heard her mother and aunt have concerning their work. She tried to remember every lawful term or explanation, every plea deal. Everything. But her thoughts and words were too jumbled together, fading into one another, and she was too frazzled to even consider thinking logically.

She cried out in frustration, slamming her hands down on the wheel once again. "Fucking think, Josephine!" Her voice cracked, intoxicated by the tears that slipped into the corners of her mouth. She tried to imagine the voice as her mother's. "It's all your fault. God, why didn't you just knock some sense into Pope in the first place, you idiot? Are you so incapable that you can't do something as simple as take responsibility?"

Her hand shook as she sped off the main road and toward her neighborhood.

It was a mess. JJ had taken blame for the first time in his god-forsaken life. With the record he had, Josie couldn't even begin to predict how much time he would face if he were tried as an adult. And it wasn't like he was going to make bail anytime soon. Who would bail him out? His father?

Josie doubted Luke was even sober enough to stand, much less to go down to the station and sign his son out. No. It was up to her.

Her mom's office. Surely, she could find something of relevance in Petunia's office.

She pressed down harder on the pedal, desperate to arrive home and find some sort of answer. She had to calm her verklempt heart as it recalled JJ's face and voice. His words plagued every sense she could encounter. "Y'know where I'm from."

Josie had seen it clear as day. The light behind his eyes had dimmed with the affirmation of his own destructive thoughts—the ones that convinced him that he was destined to only be a Kildare lowlife.

She hated it, repulsed by even the implication. She hated the sight of him succumbing to his self-derogation, not believing any of it for even a second. She couldn't bear to think about what he'd told himself in order to get those words out.

As she finally approached her house, the teen couldn't be bothered to shut the car off or pull into the driveway, opting to pull to the front curb instead. She hopped out of the vehicle and raced through the front gate, sprinting through the circular driveway and up the front steps. She wiped her palms over her cheeks to gain some semblance of gathered.

She pushed the door open without the care to shut it behind her. She hurriedly ran through the doorway to the right of the foyer and into the hall, where she barged into her mother's office.

It was empty, thank God.

"Okay, okay, okay." With her hands out, Josie observed the shelves of books and the paper-covered desk. She hadn't thought very far ahead, or even considered what exactly she needed to look for. She was, essentially, trying to find one particular needle in a stack of almost identical needles.

Josie shook the distracting thoughts from her head, quickly approached the bookshelf, and scanned over the many titles. Just as she felt like her heart was going to fall and shatter to the floor, footsteps sounded down the hall and grew closer to the office.

"Oh, hello, m'ange." Her mother stood in the open entrance of her space, clearly taken aback by her daughter's presence. She observed where Josie had been distraughtly scanning the books.

If she noticed the snot and tears that decorated Josie's face, she didn't mention it.

"What are you doing in here?"

"Waiting for you, actually. I-uh, I have a law-related question—a hypothetical, really."

Petunia glanced at her, intrigued, and moved to gracefully sit down in one of the chairs in front of her desk. Josie took a deep breath, putting on her best façade to appear normal. She desperately hoped it wasn't obvious she'd been having an absolute meltdown, despite the evident heave of her chest. "I'm doing some prep, you know, and I need a fresh perspective."

"Well, I'm all ears."

"Okay, so, hypothetically, say that someone does something illegal or whatever." Josie waved her hand to seem nonchalant. "But then, when the police go to arrest that person, someone else takes the blame for it. What can you, as the non-guilty party's attorney, do to get them out of custody if they don't have someone to sign for them?"

"Alright..." Petunia drawled curiously, obviously entertained by what she assumed was an imaginary situation. She pursed her lips in thought. "How old is this client of mine?"

"Seventeen."

She nodded. "Okay, and do they have a past record?"

"Yes." Josie nodded, going back to the shelves to scan the books for anything that might pop out as useful.

Petunia hummed out in deep thought, seemingly taking the question seriously for Josie's sake. She focused on a spot on the ceiling for a bit, before gazing back at her daughter. "May I ask what the hypothetical crime is?"

"Felony...arson. On a vehicle." Josie tried to avoid giving away too many specific details, opting for something near the same caliber. Her hands shook; the desperation to help JJ built as the day's clock ticked on.

"Okay, well usually after twenty-four hours, an undisciplined juvenile placed under unsecure custody has to be returned to their parent, unless in special circumstances. If they are in secure custody, which is common for property destruction, I'd first make sure that they understood the repercussions of being arrested and convicted. Then, I'd make sure that every expendable possibility of their guilty pleas was poked at. Things like the arrest: Were the police violent? Was my client complicit or coerced? Were they read their Miranda rights properly?"

Josie's eyes snapped back to her mother as she listed the different scenarios, alarm bells sounding in her ears. She could vividly remember Shoupe reading Pope his rights as he cuffed him over Heyward's counter. But there was absolutely no recollection of them being read to JJ.

"And what could happen if they, say, didn't read them their rights?" Josie tried to continue her blasé attitude as she peered over at her mother, who tilted her head and considered her answer.

"Well, the guilty plea at the arrest could be considered inadmissible evidence in court. And if there is no other evidence against them, a case could be made to the judge that the arrest was unlawful..."

Or that the client was lying.

Josie froze as she considered what she could do with a situation in which she proved that there was no credible evidence against JJ. She had motive, insider's knowledge of the crime scene, and no reason to lie—in the eyes of the police—and lose everything she'd worked hard for. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she knew that she would be seen as the more reliable source between the two of them.

It was perfect. Who would they believe to be telling the truth—her or JJ?

"Thanks, Mom." Josie sent her a tight-lipped smile and a wave, before she raced out of the office and back toward the foyer.

"Josephine, where do you think you're going? You have to start getting ready!" Petunia's calls went unacknowledged as Josie ran through the still-open front door and sprinted back down the yard to the Jeep.

With solid purpose, she made the drive back toward town and the Sheriff's Department.

As she drove into town, she ran through the script in her head over and over again. She verbally pumped herself up, reminding herself what she was doing it for. She was doing it for JJ.

She ran through three headlights and two stop signs, before she eventually pulled into a parking spot like a bat-out-of-hell. She didn't even bother to check her parking, jumping out of her car and running up to the door of the building.

She burst through the glass door, waiting no time as she marched past the front desk. "Uncle Vic, it wasn't him! I was me! He was incorrectly detained and therefor cannot be held in contempt for anything he said!" She ignored the angry looks she received from Amelia behind the glass.

"Sheriff Peterkin, do you hear me?" She pushed through the door to the back. "You arrested the wrong person! I'm gonna have lawyers all up your asses for that! Do you know who my mom is?" Of course, she was talking out of her ass as she scanned the station. Shoupe approached her with wide, angry eyes, pushing away other officers in assurance that he would handle her.

He repeatedly tried to interrupt her and push her back through the door as she continued. "My mother is the best goddamn lawyer on the east coast, and you can bet your ass you're gonna wish you'd done it right the first time." She scanned the area once again for that familiar golden form, and it was then that she noticed him in Peterkin's office.

"JJ! JJ! Peterkin, it wasn't him!" Peterkin exited her office as Josie shouted and fought her uncle as he shoved her out the door. She turned to address him. "It was me, okay? Would you listen?" She tried to fight his hold once again. "I was the one who did it! JJ took the fall for me! I'm the one who had a vendetta against Topper Thornton-"

"Joseph-" Her uncle tried to dispel her statements, but she slapped his hands.

"Is he being held? I can pay his bail or something to get him out. Just until his trial, Uncle V-"

"Josephine! He's already been signed for," her uncle snapped, motioning to the counter behind her. And as she turned, the floor fell out from below her feet. Her stomach plummeted into the emotional abyss that lay under her, and her uncle's retreat back into the offices went unnoticed.

He wore a dirty, blue button-up that was open over an equally dirt-covered, gray tank. He stood hunched over the counter as he wiped a hand over his sweaty, nasty, gruesome face. His voice was gruff and hard as stone, and the stare he shot Josie pierced directly into her like bullets hitting the glass of her eyes.

Luke Maybank.

Even just the conception of his name in her head made her want to jump at him and claw his chillingly blue eyes out. His eyes carried deep bags under them, violet enough that it gave her good reason to believe that either he was high or just coming down from one. She didn't think one was worth more than the other. He was a piece of shit either way.

Her whole body burned with unfiltered, white-hot, blistering hatred. Hatred stormed her soul and clouded her rational thoughts.

The man before her had been the object of most of her nightmares, starting at age nine. He'd menacingly haunted her sleep since the day she'd gone to JJ's house to ask him if he'd wanted to play treasure-hunters. It was one of the worst days of her life, when she'd found her boy submitting to the animalistic punishments of his father in broad daylight.

Back when they'd first become friends, JJ had always told Josie that she was banned from ever going near his house. She was only allowed to go as far as Frog Creek, so named by the duo, and not a step further. She'd then have to wait there for him to meet her and play.

But that day, only a few months after his mom had left, she'd sat at their meeting spot on the biggest rock for over an hour, before deciding to go get him herself.

She'd only seen it for a moment, and the image still often tormented her dreams—she didn't like to think about it much. She'd ran away from his house crying, and instead of going back to their rock, she went home. That night, she'd hand the first in a long list of dreams that involved Luke Maybank beating her sunshine to death.

She'd woken up sobbing so much that she'd gotten sick all over her Captain Hook bed sheets.

It wasn't until two days later that she'd see her boy again, face swollen and bruised as he recovered from his dad's evil beatings. And, at first, Josie never mentioned it. They just went back to using sticks as swords and rocks as cannonballs.

Until it happened a second time. Then a third. Then a fourth. And little Josie started to realize that pain had become JJ's new normal.

So, one cold night, she'd taken his hand and snuck him up to her bedroom, where she'd made a tent out of every blanket she could find.

And as they played treasure hunters in the safety of her room, she'd told him that surely his dad must've been mad because he didn't have treasure—the same reason all pirates were ever angry. She'd then admitted that she knew what his dad had been doing, and he'd stomped out of her house right then and there, teary eyes hidden in the dark of night.

He came back to her days later, of course, while she'd sat on the rock by the creek, and cried to her about how scared he was of his dad.

Josie had asked him to come live with her, so that they could move far far away from his dad and find treasure for the rest of their lives. And he'd liked the idea so much that JJ made her promise that they would actually do it when they got older.

For the years that followed after that, Josie saw it more and more. She started to become the one who cleaned the wounds JJ sported after a bad argument. She was the one he came to when he needed comfort. She was the one he, albeit rarely, confessed his demons to.

But in all of that confiding, Luke Maybank has grown into her worst fear. The bane of her existence. The source of every brick and stone that weighed down the other half of her—the one who fed her dreams sunshine and praise.

So yes, seeing him in the Sheriff's Station at one in the afternoon made Josie consider murder to be the easiest possibility known to man. She wanted to shout at him—to hurl insults at him until her throat croaked with raw, unabashed loathing. She wanted to sentence him to the same hell he so often bestowed upon his own blood.

That was until the door to the back opened behind her, and the sun peeked its head out from behind her rage-filled storm clouds.

She turned to watch her favorite boy, her favorite person, walk through the threshold that separated them. His slouch was noticeable as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and slowly made his way forward.

And without even looking back at Luke Maybank, Josie threw herself at JJ.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, flattening her palms on his back to remind herself that he was there, with her, and okay. She buried her head in his chest, closely listening to the sound of his anxiously racing heartbeat. She inhaled the salty smell of his presence, ocean water and old spice mixing together to create a uniquely JJ smell.

She melted at the feeling of his arms wrapping around her in reciprocity. He pulled her from his chest just enough to let his own head fall into her neck.

"You're such a fucking dumbass. So, so, so fucking stupid." Her words were broken and gargled, obviously upset. Josie shook her head as the tears fell again, landing on the golden tresses that adorned his head. But neither one of them found it in themselves to care.

JJ moved to rest his head, tugging her closer to completely envelope his arms around her. He placed a long kiss to the crown of her head, and Josie squeezed him tighter against her in response. He cradled the back of her head, soothingly stroking the strands of her hair as she fell forward to sink into his chest and touch. Her heavenly place on earth.

"I can't believe they're letting you go." She sniffled and shook her head, voice slightly muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

He huffed out something akin to a laugh, chest slightly puffing. "Technically, they're not. I still got court."

"Yeah, I'm working on that," she mumbled, reminding herself of all the responsibility she was going to bear for JJ going to court. She wouldn't stop until he wasn't facing punishment.

She couldn't even complete her thoughts before he spoke into her hair. "Stop blaming yourself. I chose to do it."

"I had it." She pulled them apart enough to glare up at him through her lashes, but not nearly enough to think about letting him go. "I did."

JJ shook his head as a gentle smile grazed his beautiful face, and he reached up to softly swipe at some of the tear streaks decorating her cheeks. She smiled up at him, but it dropped as she closed her eyes, momentarily embarrassed by how much she'd cried over him.

"Carried it for you." He shrugged, reaffirming his sentiment from the night prior.

Josie frowned and opened her eyes to despairingly stare back at him. She didn't want him self-sabotaging in the name of her own emotional tolls. Her mouth opened to dispute him, when a voice from behind her interrupted their moment.

"Boy." The word was gruff and slurred, and it took everything in Josie not to swing around and throw her fist in his face.

When she did move to look at the man, Luke strictly gave a brief wave to command JJ to stand near him. Said boy went to walk around Josie, and she moved to grasp his hand tightly in hers to wordlessly follow him.

Not like he'd ever have to ask her to.

As soon as they stopped again, she nestled herself into his right side. Like two puzzle pieces that fit together at every angle, she immediately found the correct position to offer him comfort. He let an arm lay loosely around her back, turning his head to press a grateful peck to her temple.

"You're his guardian?" Officer Amelia asked Luke, who sighed as he glared back at JJ. Josie returned the rough stare, eyes narrowed as she refused to remove him from her line of vision. She always wanted him to know how much she loathed him.

"Sorry to say, I'm his father," he snipped.

Josie bristled as JJ uncomfortably shuffled, but he ran a comforting hand up and down her back in spite of all the tempestuous emotions rushing around the room. She reciprocated the gesture by squeezing his side, following his movements of up and down.

"Well, hearing will be in two weeks. If you fail to show up, you will forfeit your bail. The restitution will be based on the average of three outside estimates of the damaged article-"

"Restitution?" Luke questioned. Josie sighed and let her forehead fall onto JJ's shoulder. There was no doubt that would be a lot of money. Money that JJ had no way of getting.

"Pay for what he broke. It's part of the plea."

Luke turned to burn a sharp glare into JJ, and Josie tensed as she watched JJ avoid his father's daunting stare. Once the older man looked away, she turned JJ's face toward her and gently smiled at him—a slight reassurance that everything would be fine.

"And...sign right here, please." Luke vigorously signed the paper, before turning to face the two teens.

"Let's go. Go, now!" Luke barked as he pointed at the door, and JJ quickly went to step away from Josie.

She stubbornly shook her head, pulling him back to her as Luke made his way toward the door. "No, no, no. No wait, come with me. You can leave with me, and we'll go to the beach, or the Chateau, or something. We can-we can camp out in the Jeep or whatever—do whatever you want. Please, hey-" Her shaky hands pulled his face down to her, frightful tears again falling down her face. She ignored the glare she received from the man at the door.

JJ's glassy blue eyes gazed down at her, overwrought with intricate emotions. Recognition swam in their mesmerizing colors as the boy behind them solemnly accepted what came next. But where that small, blue-eyed boy accepted defeat, an equally small, green-eyed girl wailed and tugged that boy back across the creek.

She wanted to beg. She wanted to drop to her knees right there and sob out every plea she could muster for him to stay. The pain she felt knowing he'd eventually leave was so tortuous that Josie was afraid she wouldn't survive it. She needed him to stay—to be intertwined with her for the rest of their existences.

"Just come with me. I mean, we can go play pirates for fuck's sake. Just, please, please...don't go home." Her voice broke as she stared up at him, and her heart equally broke at the sight of water forming in his waterline. She just wanted to take it away.

They both knew what would happen when he walked out of that door.

"Boy!"

JJ tensed at the call, and Josie moved her quivering hands to cradle his jaw, desperate to keep his focus solely on her.

That time, she did beg. "C'mon, Sunny. Please, let me save you this time."

He grasped her wrists with both hands, sighing as he closed his eyes and savored the ethereal feeling of their shared touch. It was warm, comforting, and soft—the feeling of his skin under her palms. She was sure no one else could tell where his form ended and hers began, for sometimes even she couldn't.

In moments like these, she wished that they could just share the same skin so she could be closer to him. So she could protect him.

"Jo..." He sighed. "Y'know makin' him wait 's only gonna make it worse." He pressed another kiss to her hairline, long and watery, as a tear fell onto her cheeks and mixed with her own salty sadness. Her hands slid down from his face to grip his shirt, willing herself not to wail out on the spot.

The anguish would consume her, she was certain—eat her alive to spit her back and out, then do it all over again. For a moment, she selfishly wished that she was someone different—someone who didn't have to watch the person they cherished most walk into a fate so scored. How was she supposed to survive that?

"Boy, don't make me tell you again."

"Come find me after?" Josie sniffled out, clutching him like a lifeline as she waited for his answer with bated breath. Even though it was the same every time.

"Always do." He leaned back to pull apart from her, and her heart fell to the ground and shattered as it tried to follow.

She looked up to meet his guys, eyes like a building storm ready to erupt in violet rain. She longed to drown in the rain—drown in the color of his eyes—because maybe then she could shield him from everything wrong in the world. She could cushion every blow and every word that was thrown at him, guarding his heart as if it were a queen's greatest jewel. She'd hold it with tender and affectionate care, worshiping his soul with a disciple's reverence.

Her eyes wandered to his father, whose jaw was clenched as he observed the pair. She vowed to never let JJ give in to whatever shit Luke filled his head with. No matter how hard she had to fight with him—how much hell she had to give JJ to contradict his thoughts—she would not let him fall down the same path his father had.

JJ pulled away from her, their hands losing touch. "Hey," Josie called as he departed from her. His gaze wandered over his shoulder, and she smiled through her evident sadness. "Love you, dumbass."

Despite the fact that Josie's voice was full of water and misery, JJ gave her a small smile and winked. Just like that, she watched him exit the station with his dad hot on his heels.

Once he was out of her sight, she fell onto the bench against the wall. She rested her head in her palms, elbows propped on her knees, and finally let herself silently wail for what was to come for her boy. She cried for the pain he'd bear, both physically and emotionally. She cried for the part of him that just wanted love and understanding from his father. She cried because he was the best person she'd ever known.

Oh, how she hated Luke Maybank.

☼

Josie stared at herself in the mirror, absentmindedly running her flat iron over her hair. Her brain ran wild, masochistically plagued by thoughts that visualized what torture JJ was succumbing to at that very moment. They sent her into a spiral as she failed to correctly deal with the reality of the situation.

It was a constant cycle of making herself feel horrendous.

Down deep in the bottom of her gut, somewhere mixed in with her humanity, there was something that yearned for him. Like it knew that he was in trouble and that she needed to be there—a tether tugging at her heart and guiding her toward him.

How much sadness did she have in her? When did it become so much that she physically could no longer give anything else to her emotions? She was subject to two different heartbreaks in the span of less than twenty-four hours. She lost the person she was in love with, and she sent her closest loved one to a terrible danger.

The teen glanced over at the dress hanging from the bathroom door, scrunching her nose up at the idea of attending Midsummer's that evening. The newly-borne burden of JJ's restitution sat heavy on her shoulders and made her certain that she never wanted to dance again.

All to no one's fault but her own.

Not to mention, she hadn't seen herself in the dress since the catastrophe that was the Tannyhill dress try-on. Josie cringed at the image of her mother's disapproving scowl when she would see Josie in her outfit. She could only pray that, somehow, she was able to magically shrink her excess arm skin.

Realistically, probably not.

Her mind slipped into deep consideration of what that conversation would be like, when a sudden knock on her window made her jump in her skin. She placed the iron down on the counter and turned to peek into her bedroom, investigating what had bumped into her window. She rolled her eyes once she became aware of the culprit.

There, standing atop the roof of her back patio, was John Booker Routledge. He frantically waved at her, pointing at the latch of the window for her to open it.

Her brows furrowed at his bizarre arrival, but she rushed into her room fully, closing the bathroom door behind her. Puzzled, she trekked across the window and unlatched the window to pull it up. She quickly pressed a finger to her lips, and he raised his hands in surrendering obedience.

He climbed through, over her desk, and she held his elbow to help him in and make sure he didn't cause chaos by falling. "Nice hair." He chuckled as he gestured to the head of untouched hair that was sectioned and clipped to the top of her head. She rolled her eyes, digging her nails into the arm she gripped to help him.

Once he was stable, she raced over to her bedroom door to click the lock. She pressed her ear against it to listen for any noises that would warrant concern, before she walked back to John B and laid a rather harsh punch to his shoulder. "In hushed tones, what the hell are you doing climbing up my roof?"

He hissed out in pain and reached up to rub where she'd struck him as he shrugged incredulously. "JJ said to climb up the tree and knock on the window if I ever needed to."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed lowly as she carefully shut the window. She did her best to ignore the pang in her chest when he mentioned JJ. She was still fragile toward the implication of what he was going through. "I told him that was for emergencies only."

"Which this is," John B quickly added, assertively motioning toward her. He dropped his backpack down on her bed and dug out the paper she'd only seen via picture.

His movements were halted as he grew distracted by the twinkling string lights and old photos of their group scattered throughout her room. "Y'know, I don't think I've ever been in your room." He smirked, eyes flitting around at all of the antiques that littered her space.

Miniature replicas of old pirate ships offered a clear insight into Josie's love of treasure and adventure. Books of every kind detailing history, poetry, and plays lined the many flat surfaces of her room—some titles easily recognizable and others a relic of obscurity. Weird replications of ancient pottery and trinkets gave the room a lively color that bled into the soul of the room.

It was very Josie.

His eyes lingered on the framed picture of Josie and Max, kissing, which still sat on her bedside table, but he refrained from commenting, which Josie was appreciative of. "JJ was right. It is like someone cut your brain open."

"JJ hasn't been in here since we were thirteen." Josie's throat closed at the thought of JJ and John B discussing her bedroom when she wasn't there, and she had to swallow the croak that tickled her mouth. An unfamiliar feeling settled in her gut—the same one she'd had at the Wreck with JJ.

But she shook it off before she could dwell on it much further. "Anyway, is this about the Denmark Tanny letter?" She moved over to her own bag on the floor by her bed, digging out the paper she'd stuffed in it that morning.

"That depends on if you did it." He smirked once again as Josie laid paper on the desk, and she glanced over her shoulder to beckon him to her. He settled in next to her and placed down his copy of the letter, so they could look at them side by side.

"Okay, I did most of what I could by memory, so there's still some letters missing. And Google only has about seventy thousand different answers when you search for the Gullah Alphabet. So, this is the best I could do. She sighed and glanced over at John B, who encouragingly nodded at her to read it.

"It's dated 1844, obviously." Josie pointed at the date in the top right corner. "To my beloved son, Robert. I am—this word could be waiting, or welcoming, or maybe awaiting. I am awaiting the hour of my public—murder or meeting, not sure—with great composure of—mind? I think. Mind and cheerfulness, knowing I am soon—something—for glory."

"He was lynched," John B noted, tilting his head. Josie's brows raised at him, impressed with his ability to gather that much from her mess of an interpretation.

"Well, I mean, it unfortunately makes sense. With all the stuff he tried to accomplish back then?" Josie pushed a breath between pursed lips and shook the image out of her head, letting her gaze continue down the page.

"Do not nurse—greed or grief, probably grief—to vengeance, but instead trust in God with all your—I wasn't sure if this was head or heart, but the bible verse says heart, so that's what I went with—with all your heart, for he doeth all things well. Until we meet again in heaven, your—loyal or loving—father, Denmark Tanny."

He quirked his brow at her, confused. "Wait, that's it?"

She smirked back up at him. "Well, there is a postscript down here..." She drawled in pretend disinterest and nodded toward the small writing at the bottom of the page.

He raised his brows, hopefully, and copied her tone. "Well, I don't suppose you translated that too?"

She bumped his shoulder with her own. "Who do you think I am? Of course I did."

"I knew we kept you around for a reason," John B joked. Josie scoffed faux-offendedly as she slapped him on the shoulder, but he quickly cut the fight short by hurriedly waving toward the paper.

"It's a planter's log. Matters—I couldn't figure out this word—to the property and the estate. Tobacco, cotton, corn, tomato. But finally, to Robert..." Josie looked toward her fiend, who feverishly nodded. "Harvest—I think—the wheat by the water in parcel nine forthwith."

She turned to John B, brows furrowed once again as she watched him lean backward and move away from the desk. "Can you please tell me what's going on?"

"Denmark Tanny was on the Royal Merchant," John B thoughtfully informed.

Josie gaped at him in response, befuddled. The history clogs turned in her brain, scratching this new information down to stick into a file somewhere in her head. "Are you kidding? I thought there were no survivors." She thought back to the information she'd read about Tanny, eyes widening as her fast-paced brain put the pieces together. "Denmark Tanny bought the planation with gold..."

"Yes, exactly. But why, on the day he dies, would he write a letter to his son telling him to harvest the wheat?"

Josie shrugged, still digging and organizing every thought that came to mind. Did the contents of the letter mean that the gold was still out there? Did Tanny use all of it to buy Tannyhill?

Her eyes did another once-over of the paper. "There's this little weird symbol on the bottom, looks like wheat. Kind of ironic given the last words." Josie lifted the paper toward the light streaming from the window and tilted it to see what she could make of it.

John B approached, looking up at the paper over her shoulder. "You're a fucking genius, RJ!"

"Shush." Josie dropped the paper and slapped a hand over his mouth, ignoring the celebratory squeeze he gave her shoulder. She became momentarily paralyzed when she heard the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs, before she began shoving John B up on the desk.

"Get out. Get out. Get out." The doorknob jiggled as she rushed to open the window. He stumbled as Josie pushed at him, cursing and arguing through hushed whispers. She pushed his face when he tried to turn to her, shutting the glass barrier as soon as his second foot was out. She shooed him with quick waving motions.

Her door flew open, and she leaned down to pretend to be occupied at the desk.

Her mother waltzed through the door, her brows and forehead creased in suspicion, as she scanned Josie's room. The golden key in her that had allotted her access glimmered in the afternoon sun.

Josie smiled at Petunia, casually fiddling with the papers on her desk to cover the translation sheet and the letter. "Hey, Mom. What's up?"

"I thought I heard shouting." Her sharp, green stare swept around the room again, scrutinizing anything that could be a bit out of place.

Josie huffed an awkward laugh, not daring to move her gaze toward the window. She could only hope that John B had found his way down without much trouble. "Oh yeah, sorry. I was having a little meltdown with the straightening iron." She motioned to her half-done hair, and Petunia rolled her eyes and annoyedly exhaled through her nose.

Still, she nodded in acceptance and sighed, looking down at her watch. "Speaking of, you need to be finished soon. We're leaving in a couple of hours, and Max is going to be here before that-"

"Max?" Josie questioned, spine straight as she fully faced her mother. The pit of her stomach swallowed her whole, falling into the abyss of heartbreak at the mere sound of his name. Sorrowed-blue emotions rushed back into her veins—the image of him choking JJ vivid in her memory. The tickle in the back of her throat threatened to become a cry, remembering that she was no longer with him.

It dawned on her that she hadn't told anyone outside of the pogues about her breakup.

"Yes, sweetheart, Max—your boyfriend." Petunia spoke to Josie as if she were a toddler who was learning to structure her sentences. "I spoke to him this morning about-"

"This morning?" Josie asked again, confusion stressed in the question. Why the hell would Max assume that they'd still be going together after she'd broken up with him? She hadn't explicitly stated her plan to attend Midsummer's unaccompanied, but she just assumed that it was implied. Had she not been clear about her intentions by ending the relationship?

"Josephine, will you stop interrupting me? God, it's like a dog that just will not stop yapping." Petunia shut her eyes and placed her middle finger and thumb to her temples, as if Josie's voice gave her a violent headache. Josie subconsciously picked at her nails in response and watched her mother with hesitance.

"Anyway, you need to speed it up. So, move it." Petunia waved toward the bathroom, before leaving Josie's room without another word.

Josie opened the bathroom door, startled when she was met with Naomi staring at herself in the mirror over her sink. She was in the middle of applying a generous amount of eyeliner, leaning in so close that she practically kissed the mirror. Her dark auburn hair was done up, pulled into a curly ponytail with specifically placed tendrils pulled out around her face.

Josie had never seen her little sister so dolled up, even if she was still in her regular clothes.

"You look pretty," Josie complimented. She made her way back to her own mirror and unclipped her hair, letting the last section fall over her shoulders. She began to run the still-hot flat iron through it, shooting a smile at her sister.

Naomi stared back blankly. "You know, if you're gonna sneak boys into your room, you could at least try not to get caught."

Josie turned to her sister in shock, stuttering as she stumbled to find a defense.

But her sister beat her to it. "Just don't get pregnant. 'Cause if you get pregnant, you get kicked out. And that means that I have to deal with her." Naomi narrowed her eyes at Josie, before she walked through her adjoined door and shut it behind her.

Josie stared at the door for a moment, briefly stunned by her sister, and turned back to finish her hair. She pulled a bit of the top section of her hair up, pinning it to fall at the back of her head. But, when she pulled out a few front strands to frame her face, her face scrunched in abhorrence. She tilted her head to take note of it from different angles, still disliking the way it looked.

She huffed and accepted that her hair probably wouldn't get any better the more she messed with it. As she finished scrutinizing it, another knock sounded from her window, and she groaned in frustration.

What more could John B possibly need from her?

She moved through the threshold of the bathroom, ready to scold her brunette friend, and glanced at the window. But sitting on the other side of the glass was not her treasure-hunting, recluse best friend.

It was her impulsive, recklessly loyal one.

⋄ ⋟⋆ june 24, 2020

I wish there was a way to physically transfer hurt from the undeserving heart pain clutches in its palm. today, I watched as a boy walked away to his doom, the green glass walls of my soul let my inner being see the reality of life. the little girl that cradled my soul deep to her chest like a stuffed animal cried in pain, banging on the glass and begging for the lost boy to come back- to hold her hand as she guided him through his darkness. she sobbed as the words he'd carved into the sides of her brain shined bright with gold lettering, like a bitter reminder of the differences he so often held against himself. but the girl didn't care- I didn't care. I don't care. I never have. because, my dearest loyalty, without you, I am nowhere.

- josephine grey ⋄ ⋟⋆

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