Broken Bones and Shattered Spirits - fayedartmouth (2024)

As a kid, John B had thought, wow, being an adult is fun.

You could set your own rules. No one could tell you no. You didn’t have to go to school, and you didn’t have to worry about parents grounding you and sh*t. He spent your money the way you wanted to spend your money, and your time was your own.

He’d been a dumb kid, okay. It had all been naive and stupid.

But he also wasn’t entirely wrong.

Because adulthood? When John B got right down to it?

Was kind of awesome.

Yeah, yeah, there was responsibility and sh*t. You didn’t really get to set your own rules, and people did still tell you what to do. There was no school, but there was having a job, and you had to pay your bills and be a responsible member of society.

And it was great.

John B had his own shop; he had a girlfriend. He’d rebuilt the Chateau and owned it out right. He’d fixed up the Twinkie and bought a second car, and he had a bank account, retirement savings, and DCS was never going to bother him again.

Adulthood was good.

It also helped that he was rich now.

But still.

Having that much money as a kid had been nothing but a mess.

Having this much money as an adult was the most liberating thing in the entire damn world. He could do what he wanted, when he wanted.

So at the end of a day at work, he was taking his new car home to his new house to settle in with his actual wife.

Yeah, he rebuilt the Chateau. He legit married Sarah. And even though he’d finally fixed up the Twinkie, he had a brand new economy car to get him back and forth to town. He could save his old girl for special occasions. Weekend rides, road trips, and treasure hunts.

And the only trade off?

Well, adulthood or not, JJ was still bumming a ride.

Carpooling, JJ called it. But John B was skeptical. JJ was also an adult with money and a working vehicle. And somehow, he was still carting JJ along more often than not.

Not that he was complaining, exactly. He had outgrown a lot of hair, but he hadn’t outgrown JJ. He couldn’t. JJ was still his best friend. They did childhood together. They would do adulthood, too.

John B knew this.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give JJ a hard time about it. They could grow up, but come on. Maturity wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Especially when JJ didn’t lead by example. “Are you done yet?” he asked, messing with the pens on John B’s front counter. JJ ran a charter. John B ran the surf shop with Sarah. They both put in the work. John B just put it in more consistently and with normal work hours.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure how JJ kept his going. He had plenty of customers, but the organizational skills of his 16 year old self on weed. He had a system, but no one understood it but JJ.

And hey, John B didn’t care. JJ could make his own choices. He was an adult, too, after all. That’s how sh*t rolled.

But when he was ready to go and John B still had work?

Yeah, that was when John B had to remind himself they weren’t 16 still.

He glared at JJ’s fidgeting fingers. Half of his pens were already gone thanks to JJ’s inability to stop stealing. He had given up keeping candy stocked, and why JJ kept stealing his business cards, he had no idea. He was going to have to hide them and lock the damn drawer.

Because JJ might have grown up, but he was still JJ.

“Yeah,” John B said, striving for patience. He plucked the pen out of JJ’s hand and put it back in the cup with the others. “I’m about done.”

JJ picked up another one, not missing a beat. “That’s not done,” he said. “That’s almost done.” He lifted his finger and tapped it on his head. “Nuance.”

John B made a face, taking that pen back as well. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Honestly, no idea,” JJ said. “But Kie talks about it all the time, so dropping it makes her think I’m listening.”

“Or you could, I don’t know – actually listen,” he suggested.

“I try, I do,” JJ said. He had given up the pens, and started fiddling with a paperclip instead as he sat back, crossing one leg over his knee and bouncing it restlessly. “I mean, come on. Five years ago, could I have talked about nuance?”

John B made a little face as he considered it. “Probably not,” he said. He nabbed the paperclip back, putting it on the stack of papers JJ had stolen it from. From his latest set of invoices, no less. If those bills didn’t go out next week, he’d be screwed, but he’d really have better luck getting it done without JJ sitting right there. “So, what, in another five, you’ll actually know what it means?”

JJ winked at him. “Slow and steady wins the race, I’m told.”

“That’s such a dumb-ass thing to say,” John B said, shaking his head. He rolled his eyes in defeat as he got to his feet. “But whatever. We can get out of here.”

JJ perked up, bouncing to his feet after John B. “Really? I thought you had work?”

“I do,” John B said. “But you clearly don’t care.”

“Friends are more important than work,” JJ told him. He used that earnest voice of his, the one that was somehow absolute bullsh*t and totally sincere all at the same time. “Adulthood is all about finding your priorities.”

“Oh, shut up,” John B said. “And get out to the car before I leave you here.”

JJ grinned and he didn’t have to be told twice. He bounded out ahead of John B, tucking a pen into his pocket despite himself.

John B shook his head and followed. Yeah.

Some things you never did outgrow, apparently.

-o-

Even with JJ’s pestering, they were a little late getting out of town. Since it was the off season, the days were short, and it was already dusk by the time they piled in. John B was tired, but JJ was still in good spirits, as evidenced by his nonstop rambling about everything from a dinner party Kie had planned for next week and some weird-ass touron who had booked his charter and legitimately hoped to catch mermaids.

“He was sh*tting you, right?” John B asked skeptically as he started to pull out.

“No, I swear to you,” JJ said, with a level of conviction that convinced John B otherwise. “Dude wanted to snag Ariel or something. Or, like, Darryl Hannah?”

John B rolled his eyes. “Right, Darryl Hannah. Because your touron was Tom Hanks.”

“Hey, you never know,” JJ said.

John B navigated up to a stop light and shook his head. “But I do know,” he said. “Literally, I know that you’re full of sh*t.”

“I’m not the one looking for mermaids, man, but you know, if he wanted to pay extra for an extended mermaid tour, then that’s not my fault,” he said. The light turned green and John B started driving with a smirk. “It’s called using my head. Like an adult, right?”

“Adults who look for mermaids who aren’t there,” John B said. “Makes perfect sense.”

“I got this sh*t under control,” JJ told him, leaning back in the seat and stretching his legs.

Sarah had insisted on an economy car since the Twinkie got horrible gas mileage. They did get a lot of miles to the gallon, but the leg room was atrocious. The thing was tiny.

JJ grunted. “Adulthood, in the bag.”

“Right,” John B said, taking the road out of town, and turning toward the Cut. He smirked, casting a sidelong look at JJ. “Then, why am I giving you a ride home again like we’re still 16?”

“Because carpooling is good for the environment, John B. I am now a full-grown adult, a meaningful member of society,” he said, in such perfunctory fashion, that swear to God, he thought Kie might be testing him on it.

Either that, or JJ just finally found a reason to study.

John B snorted, giving JJ a skeptical look as he handled the car on a straight stretch of road. “How hard has Kiara been coaching you on that sh*t?”

“Really hard,” JJ admitted without shame. “She is very convincing.”

“And you always have been weak with women,” John B pointed out.

“I am open minded to learning new information,” he corrected him.

John B smirked, following the road around one of the dark bends into the Cut. “Pretty sure you like getting laid.”

“Pretty sure that’s called an adult relationship,” JJ said. He nodded at John B, matter of fact. “I’m not a kid anymore, so I can’t keep thinking like one.”

He tapped the side of his head, as if to prove – something.

What? He wasn’t sure.

More to the point, he wasn’t sure JJ was sure.

Which really did seem about right.

He chuffed anyway, because it was well-intentioned drivel even if it was drivel. Kiara was trying hard to teach JJ about the world. And JJ, to his credit, was trying to learn. It was hard to believe that just a few years ago, the two of them were both poor, hungry, and in desperate need of DCS intervention. Growing up hadn’t been easy, but finding treasure had indeed helped move the process along.

Faster wasn’t necessarily the same as better, but John B would take it. He knew without a doubt JJ would, too. It meant they didn’t have to worry about the things that used to keep them up at night. They didn’t have to worry about rent or DCS or food. They didn’t have to worry about getting picked on by Kooks or what their fathers might be doing.

It was a different kind of freedom now. Responsibility, yes. But freedom.

John B would be the first to tell you how good it was.

“If you say so, J,” he quipped, taking the next turn. “You’re all grown up now.”

“Me?” JJ said. “Us, John B. Us.”

He laughed, maybe ready to agree, ready to joke, ready to something--

But around the bend, he saw the deer in the road.

He blinked, startling. He slammed on the brakes. “Oh, sh*t–”

Next to him, JJ stiffened, reaching his arms out to brace against the dash. “John B–”

They were too close; the road was too fast. The deer was standing in the middle, eyes wide in the headlights. And John B swerved–

Hard enough to miss the deer.

Too hard to stay on the road.

Trees boxed them in on either side, and these roads weren’t as developed here as they were in town or across the Figure Eight. The shoulders drop-off–

He didn’t have time to think it through when he hit it. The shoulder drop-off, and he felt the tires leave the road with a speed he hadn’t fully anticipated.

“Oh, sh*t,” he said again, jerking the wheel. He glanced at JJ. “JJ–”

JJ’s face went white and he inhaled sharply.

And then–

-o-

The feeling of weightlessness was surreal, and John B struggled to make sense of it. They were moving, they were flying, they were falling–

He thought of Sarah, and how pissed she’d be that he crashed the car.

He thought of Kie, and how pissed she’d be that he had created so much waste for the environment.

He thought of JJ–

When the car slammed into the road, tumbling again and again–

-o-

He lost track of it. The number of times the car turned. He heard the crunch of the metal, felt the pull of momentum. Broken glass splintered across his vision, and John B reeled.

Then, he was flung forward, head slamming against the wheel. He heard JJ cry out and everything went dark.

-o-

At 15, when his dad had disappeared, it had felt like his life was in a tailspin. He’d been falling, flipped and turned in all directions, pulled so hard, so fast that he didn’t know which way was up or down for months.

Wild, disconcerting, and disorienting, John B had barely survived.

The force of that sensation reminded him of this.

Pulled relentlessly against the force of gravity, slamming into hard surfaces until–

Stillness.

Stillness and quiet and then–

Pain.

He came back to himself with a gasp, aware of the passing of time but not sure how much he’d lost. He blinked hard against the darkness, trying to swallow over the thickness in his throat. His body ached, and his vision was sh*t, but he grasped onto a single, solitary truth to keep him from passing out: he was alive.

It seemed inexplicable, somehow. Like he wasn’t sure how it had happened. But he blinked against it and his vision cleared some. The pain became more acute as lung moved through his lungs and he remembered what had happened.

The deer in the road. The car swerving. The flying through the air–

They were upright, at least. He wasn’t sure why he counted that was a good thing, considering, but it was a place to start. In John B’s life, he’d learned to set low goals some times. Low expectations yielded better results. It was a matter of perspective.

sh*t, though. He breathed through the pain in his chest, trying to blink away the stars in his eyes. The windshield was gone; the car was hissing and creaking. His blood roared in his ears and he tasted blood in his mouth. It was hard to make sense of the mangled metal and broken glass, except just to know it was bad.

Perspective didn’t make that any better.

The car was totaled, the hood crumpled and the passenger side caved in.

And JJ–

“JJ?” he asked, voice trembling as he blinked again in a desperate bid to clear his vision. It didn’t work. Everything was off, and JJ–

JJ was there. Pressed up against the crumpled side of the car. He was still strapped in, held up by the seat belt. His eyes were closed, head dropped to his chest with his blonde hair covering his face.

“JJ!”

His panic was real, but the second he reached out for JJ, the pain was too much. It flooded over him with a renewed intensity that stole his breath, dimmed his vision–

For a moment, he lost it. Slipped away.

But he dragged himself back. Anchored himself with it, the throbbing in his head, the blood trickling down the side of his face, the ache of every heartbeat–

Heaving another breath, he let his vision clear again. This time, he looked out to the ruined hood – and saw it hissed. The telltale smell of gasoline. The air was thick with it. He remembered what JJ used to tell him about engines, about why the risk of a fire was real after an accident, about how quickly a car could go up. JJ said–

JJ.

He looked from the smoking hood to the side again. JJ was still there, head still down.

He swallowed, hard as he could. “JJ,” he said, tempering his voice now. He gritted his teeth, being more cautious as he reached out. The pain flared, but he kept it in check this time. “JJ, wake up!”

JJ was a pain in the ass most of the time. He could be difficult and contrary, and he had an innate disposition to piss off people in authority.

But John B?

He hardly ever said no to John B.

Especially not when it mattered.

He shuddered, the tremor passing over his body, and then his head rolled on his neck as he tried to lift his eyes up.

John B grasped him by the shoulder, giving him a squeeze. “That’s it,” he coaxed. “Look at me, J.”

This time, JJ managed to lift his head. His bangs were still in his face, but John B could see the swath of blood coating the far side of his head. It looked bad, but head injuries bled. He tried to reassure himself.

“JJ?” he prodded. “You with me?”

With a groan, JJ turned his head to the side. He blinked sluggishly and took a staggering breath. Focus was clearly a struggle, and John B watched as he tried to bring himself around – his only success being a whimper.

“Hey,” John B said, latching onto it anyway. “You’re okay. I’m here. You’re okay.”

It wasn’t a lie, not between them. Okay was a relative thing, and no one understood that better than them. Growing up with nothing to lose – okay took on a different meaning. John B knew that. More than that, he knew that JJ would know it.

JJ was awake; John B was here.

It was going to be okay.

They’d always made that work before.

He had to believe they could make it work now.

Not that they weren’t going to cut it close. That was also pretty damn typical of them. They didn’t like to do things the easy way, it seemed. Rather, the easy way didn’t take kindly to them.

Because JJ’s eyes were open, and John B had his attention drawn out the shattered windshield. Where the engine was smoking, and the acrid smell was starting to fill his lungs.

Right.

The engine was probably catching on fire. Because Sarah wanted an economy car, because John B didn’t have much luck. Because when something went wrong, it had to go really wrong.

He swallowed. Hard. His throat burned, and his head throbbed. Stars threatened to take over his vision, but passing out was a death sentence. For him – for JJ.

“John B?” JJ asked. He sounded confused.

John B looked at him; he didn’t blame him. “Yeah, buddy, I’m here,” he said.

“What–” JJ asked, trying to sit up a little more. The motion cut off with a cry that left JJ shaking.

“We were in an accident,” John B said, summarizing it as best he could. He reached up, turning JJ’s head toward him, trying to get a better look at his eyes. In the dim light, JJ’s eyes struggled to focus, and he blinked right past John B several times before anything seemed to click at all. “Totaled the car. Sarah’s going to be pissed.”

Was he joking? He didn’t know; he couldn’t say. It didn’t matter.

JJ’s brow furrowed and he took a staggered breath. “I–” he said, and faltered. He seemed to fade out for a moment, but John B took him by the chin and righted him. “John B?”

sh*t. This was getting worse by the second. The smell of smoke was almost overpowering now, and John B choked back a cough. “We got to get out of the car,” he said, forcing another breath through the pain of his throbbing head and aching chest. Something wet was slithering down his arm, but he didn’t have time to check it. He didn’t have time for any of this sh*t. “If the engine catches – we got to get out of the car.”

JJ nodded placidly, but there was no real sense that he had any idea what John B said. Fine.

Fine.

He’d get them out of the car. He could do that, right? He just had to open the door and slide them out. Once he was on the pavement, he could call 911, he could get JJ to the hospital, and everything would be okay.

It was going to be okay.

It was.

“Okay,” he said, rallying himself now. Screw the headache. Ignore the pain in his ribs. So what about the bleeding. “JJ, we have to move, okay? I need you to move.”

He was reaching down, to unbuckle the seatbelt, when he saw it.

That was when he saw it. Not the blood on JJ’s head.

No.

God.

The mangled mess of his leg.

Misshapen, coated with blood.

And a hint of white poking through the skin.

It was so gruesome, some macabre, that John B didn’t understand it at first. He’d seen bad sh*t before, he’d lived bad sh*t before — but this.

He couldn’t make it compute, he couldn’t put it together. That JJ’s leg–

That JJ–

“sh*t,” he said, despite himself as horror settled over him numbly. “JJ.”

JJ blinked at him and swallowed. “It hurts, John B,” he said, and sounded impossibly young now. He looked impossibly young. “I don’t think I can – I don’t think I can–”

And he couldn’t. Because JJ’s leg wasn’t just broken; it had literally been snapped in two. With the shin bone sticking out.

sh*t.

John B didn’t think he could either.

The shock gave way to revulsion, and it was all he could do to swallow back bile. His brain threatened to shut down entirely, but the smoke made him cough, and he choked this time. And JJ was looking at him like that.

Wide eyed.

Pained.

Trusting.

Like John B could make it okay.

How the hell was John B going to make this okay? The car was going to catch on fire, and JJ’s leg had been snapped in half. They were a long, long way from okay right now, and John B could barely contend with the swell of panic that threatened to overtake him.

He wanted to let it.

He really, really did.

To be a kid again, he thought. To make this someone else’s responsibility.

Except, that wasn’t how it was. Even as kids, they’d had to do this sh*t alone. And they were adults now. John B could do this. He had to.

There was no time for his doubt. There was no time to be scared. JJ was running out of time, and John B couldn’t afford to hesitate.

Outside, the engine was steaming. The smoke was visible in the cab, and he could feel it burning in his lungs. Everything was getting hot, and JJ was going pale beneath him, skin trembling.

sh*t.

That was the problem with adulthood, right?

When sh*t went down, it was all on you.

And it was all on him now.

The car on the side of the road. The engine catching fire. And JJ with his leg snapped in half.

To salvage anything, John B needed to act.

To salvage JJ, John B needed to act now.

For the record, that was the only thing worth salvaging now. He could live without the car, but JJ wasn’t expendable. All the crap he’d outgrown, and he’d never outgrown his best friend.

“I’m sorry about this,” he said, unhooking JJ’s seatbelt, and rotating him in the seat. JJ h whimpered with a sharp inhale. “This is going to hurt, but we got to move, buddy.”

JJ was too far gone to reply, and John B wasn’t sure if that made it worse or better. JJ didn’t know what was coming.

John B braced himself, because he did.

Head throbbing, chest constricting. He smelled the smoke and looked at JJ’s leg.

“sh*t,” he said again, blinking his burning eyes. “I’m sorry, J.”

Blue eyes blinked back up at him. “John B?”

He opened the door, throwing it wide. Then, he took JJ under the armpits, gritted his teeth, and pulled.

JJ didn’t just cry out; he screamed. It was a guttural sound, one he’d never heard from him before. Like it was being ripped out of him.

It sent a shudder down John B’s spine. JJ had a high tolerance for pain. He had a habit of hiding just how much things cut him.

But this scream, this sound, was too much, even for JJ. As if they’d finally found his breaking point.

And John B had to go and make it worse.

To save his life, he reminded himself as he half fell out of the driver’s seat, dragging JJ with him. He scrambled, getting his feet as he adjusted his grip under JJ’s armpits.

It was a grown up thing, assessing the pros and cons. Pinpointing the cost that was worth it.

To hear JJ scream like that

Just to be sure JJ survived.

You made the hard calls as an adult. You made the necessary sacrifices.

John B found his footing and gave JJ one, final pull, yanking him clear of the car and sending them both tumbling to the pavement.

He looked down to see JJ’s face, contorted in a silent scream of aging now.

And he looked up in time to hear the thump and the whoosh.

Just that fast, mere seconds after escaping, the fire kicked up, consuming the engine in a flash as the entire car caught. Flames licked the wheels, the seat, where they had been strapped in a heartbeat before.

He knew better than most people that life could change in a split second, but sh*t.

His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he forced himself to swallow. Tears burned his eyes as the smoke filled his nose. That had been close. Too close–

“John B?”

The sound of JJ’s voice startled him, bringing him back to the moment. Not what might have been; what was. He looked down, letting out a shaky breath. “We’re okay,” he said. “We’re okay, J.”

Of course, then he actually looked at JJ.

And things seemed pretty far from okay.

The fact that JJ was conscious was about the only positive thing. He looked terrible, even worse than before. The short trip out of the car had taken its toll. His color was ashen in the glow of the fire, and his lips were pale and parted as he visibly gasped for air. He was shaking, too. Tremors wracking his body so badly that John B fought the urge to hold him down.

“sh*t, JJ,” he said, and he reached down, running a hand over his forehead, wiping away the blood and pushing back his bang. His skin was cold to the told, and he ran his finger around to cup his cheek. “Oh, sh*t. JJ.”

This was bad. He was no medical professional, but this was bad. This was shock; this was bleeding out; this was–

“Okay,” he said, trying to gather a breath and gather his wits. He withdrew his hand, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “We need to call 911, buddy–”

Like, it was a simple solution. They’d just crashed the car; the damn thing was on fire. JJ’s bone was sticking through his shin, and John B’s head was spinning.

Of course they were calling 911.

It seemed self-evident to John B.

But on the ground, JJ somehow went even paler. His eyes widened and he reached out, grabbing John B by the wrist. “No,” he said, almost whimpering with the word “No – we can’t. My-my dad–”

And just like that, John B realizes they’re dealing with more than an open fracture of JJ’s leg.

Because trauma wasn’t stagnant. It wasn’t a one and done, especially not for JJ. He’d spent his whole life scared, his whole life desperate, his whole life in need.

He had stability now. He had everything he needed, a future, a family.

But the damage was still there.

It might always be there.

It was easy to think, sometimes, that it was over. That Luke was gone and that JJ was okay now, but that was naive. John B knew better.

He just didn’t like to think about it. And JJ made it so, so easy to pretend like it never happened at all.

Until he couldn’t.

Until the facades ran out, and John B realized that JJ hadn’t changed as much as he wanted to think. He was still hiding his true feelings, and just because fewer things trigger him these days didn’t mean he didn’t struggle every damn day.

It was why John B still woke up thinking his dad was going to come home. It was why Sarah still flinched when someone brought up the name Cameron. It was why Kiara couldn’t drive by that part of the Figure Eight where her parents had her kidnapped.

It was why JJ was here, delirious out of his mind with pain, still scared that his dad would find out he got hurt.

As if John B had ever needed another reason to hate Luke Maybank.

He reached down again with his free hand, cupping JJ’s cheek once more and holding his gaze steady. “Your dad’s not here, remember? Luke’s gone.”

JJ’s eyes were wet, and he blinked furiously as he grappled with shaky fingers to keep his grip tight on John B’s wrist. “He’ll be pissed – he-he can’t know. He can’t know.”

Reason and logic wouldn’t work. JJ was in too much pain; he’d lost too much blood. The fear had taken root so deeply that there was no point. “We won’t tell him, all right?” John B tried instead. “He doesn’t have to know.”

JJ visibly relaxed slightly, but his breathing was still rapid as he faded against the pavement again, his hand slipping from John B’s wrist.

He moved his hand down, taking up JJ’s fingers in his own. “Luke doesn’t have to know, but we are calling for help, okay?” he said, squeezing JJ’s fingers as he dug his phone out of his pocket. “Just going make a simple call.”

JJ lifted his head again, fresh panic striking in his eyes. “I can’t - I can’t afford that. Bree—”

JJ was straining to sit up, and John B was forced to push his shoulders back down before he made things worse. He was still bleeding, the garish wound glinting with white bone in the moonlight. “Whoa, easy. We’re not 16, bub. Remember? You have insurance now, and savings.”

But the shock was too much. His eyes were wild, desperate. The pain had stripped him back, stripped away his confidence, revealing the scared kid that was still at his core. His breathing hitched and a fresh wave of panic set in. “But DCS—“ he said, voice almost breaking now.

“No one’s going to call DCS,” he said – he promised. “JJ, no one’s going to take you away. No one.”

The how’s and why’s might have been important, if JJ were a little more cognizant. But he wasn’t. Which was why they were having this conversation in the first place.

“It’s okay?” JJ asked, voice slurring with something like hope. He sounded so small, so young. Younger than JJ had ever been allowed to be. “Y’ promise?”

It just about broke him. “I promise,” he said, and he squeezed JJ’s fingers again so he felt, so he knew, so he believed.

JJ’s trust, though, was all he needed. Because John B could screw up a lot of things as an adult, sure. But he wasn’t screwing up this.

His fingers were shaky and bloody as he unlocked his phone. He was trembling as he pulled up the emergency number. He did it with on hand, refusing to relinquish JJ’s hand with the other, and he pressed the phone up to his ear and waited–

“911, what’s your emergency?”

To the point and perfunctory. Somehow, it still gave him a chill, even though he was an adult, too. JJ wasn’t stupid for being anxious. The reflex to be nervous would haunt them for a lifetime, John B was sure.

Still. JJ was trusting him to do the right thing.

So, John B was going to do the right thing.

“Hi, yes,” he said, breathless as he half yelled into the phone. “We’ve been in a car accident, me and my friend. Somewhere along Waverly Road, just on the Cut side.”

The line buzzed. “I’m sending a response team to your location now,” was the reply. “Was there another car involved in the accident?”

“No,” John B said. He looked at the car, which was fully engulfed now. “But it’s on fire.”

There was more noise on the line, and then the operator said, “Okay, help is on the way. Are you injured?”

John B swallowed, feeling the dull pain claw at the edges of his consciousness. “A little, but it’s my friend. He’s hurt bad.”

He looked at JJ, who was staring absently at the sky.

John B felt his gut twist.

“Is he conscious?” the operator asked.

“Yes,” John B said. He squeezed JJ’s limp fingers, but the blonde didn’t look at him this time. “But he’s pretty out of it. We need help.”

“They’re on the way, sir,” the operator said, ever trim and professional despite the fact that everything was literally on fire right now. “Please stay on the line–”

Whatever the next request was, John B didn’t hear it. He was watching JJ, watching as his eyes closed – and didn’t open.

“JJ,” he said, feeling his heart start to flutter frantically in his chest. He squeezed his fingers. “JJ, wake up!”

There was no response.

“Sir, is everything–”

“They need to hurry!” John B all but yelled now. He put the phone down hastily, using both his hands to reach up to JJ’s face and tap his cheek. Looking for some response, any response. “JJ, wake up!”

With a shudder, JJ complied. His eyelids fluttered, and his eyes opened to slits. There were goosebumps breaking out on his skin now, and John B could feel him trembling. John B didn’t know sh*t about medicine, but he was pretty sure that JJ’s body was starting to shut down. In other words, he was pretty sure his best friend was dying, right there on the side of the road while his little economy car burned.

It scared him, okay? It downright terrified him.

But JJ needed him, so there was no time for fear. Not when John B was the adult here.

“How’re you doing, J?” he asked, taking JJ’s hand on his own again. He gave the limp fingers a squeeze as he forced levity in his voice. “You hanging in there?”

JJ blinked, even slower than before. His breathing had taken on a ragged, irregular quality, and when he looked at John B, it seemed to be a struggle to get his eyes to focus. “I – hurts.”

John B winced on JJ’s behalf. “I know,” he said. “But we’re going to get you taken care of, okay? It’s under control. Just hold on a little bit more for me.”

JJ’s eyes started to wander, flicking up to the sky behind John B’s head. He shifted restlessly. “I told Kie–” he started, but he seemed to run out of air. Forehead furrowing, he looked at John B. “Is she – here?”

His hope, his need. It hurt, somehow. More than his pounding head. “No, bud,” he said, and he lifted his hand, flitted it through JJ’s bangs. If he kept his attention here, then he didn’t have to look. He didn’t have to think about it. “But we’re going to see her soon, okay?”

His brow furrowed a little more, his breathing hitching even more dramatically. “She going to be — mad?”

He sounded so scared. sh*t, he sounded terrified. Like they were still kids again.

“No, this isn’t your fault,” he said, trying to force his breathing to calm. He couldn’t cry; he couldn’t lose control. He couldn’t. “This is an accident.”

His gaze drifted again, back to the sky as his concentration visibly waned. “Told her – I’d be – careful,” he said, the words halting in the night air. “Supposed – to be – a grown up. Got to – do better–”

John B couldn’t take it. This wasn’t JJ’s fault – it wasn’t. But Luke had trained him well to assume that it was. Wherever Luke was now, his impact on JJ was still very, very real.

And very, very awful.

“Hey,” John B said, and he tapped JJ’s cheek again, trying to draw his attention back to the here and now. “You are doing better. You’re doing great.”

But JJ was slipping now, falling deeper into himself as his facades fell apart completely. “Got to change,” he slurred. “Got to grow up.”

He gripped JJ’s chin, feeling desperate now. “You’re doing great, J. I swear. You’re doing great.”

He was shaking now, fine tremors wracking his body. In the dim light, his pupils were blown. From the blood loss. From the pain. From something else John B hadn’t even considered yet. “I always mess things up—“ JJ said halting, voice thin on the night air.

But it carried enough force to rip through John B all the same. “Not this time, not this,” he said, shaking his head. His voice felt tight and funny, and the ache in his head was reaching a fevered pitch. His eyes blurred as he tried to keep JJ’s eyes on him. “I was driving, remember? This one’s on me.”

JJ didn’t remember, though. It was like the pain had erased the last four years, and JJ was a teenager again, scared and desperate. The memory felt fresh, but for the life of him, he didn’t know how he did this. He didn’t know how JJ had done it, how he still did it, if all this was right there beneath the surface.

“I–” he started, but his eyes couldn’t focus. He took a ragged breath, and it caught on itself. He shuddered almost violently and his brow furrowed. “John B?”

sh*t. JJ was losing himself. Which meant John B was losing JJ, too. JJ, who had been a constant in his life since third grade. JJ, who he still trusted more than anyone, even more than Sarah. He loved Sarah – with all his heart, mind, and soul – but nothing would change the place JJ had in his life, in his heart.

Losing JJ was losing part of himself.

Losing JJ was an impossibility, plain and simple.

JJ was slipping.

So John B?

John B was starting to panic.

“JJ, please,” he said, taking his friend’s face in both hands now. “JJ, stay with me. Please, stay with me.”

JJ gasped and coughed. His eyes were glazing over now.

“No,” John B said. “No, no, no, no.”

He looked around, feeling his desperation rise. What the hell was he going to do? The car had nearly burned itself out by now, the fire subsiding as fast as it had started. His phone was still blinking as if the line was open but he couldn’t hear the operator anymore. Just the sound of JJ’s breath, grating against his lungs, growing weaker and weaker.

But then–

He craned his neck to look back down the road.

Sirens.

Distant; but getting closer.

“They’re coming,” he said, glancing around, ever mindful to make sure he and JJ were safely off the roadway. “Help’s here.”

He picked up his phone, shoving it in his pocket. He strained his head as far as he could to look down the stretch of road, the panic unfurling slightly as he saw the flashing lights come into view.

“You’re going to be okay, J,” he said, reaching back down to JJ and putting his hand on JJ’s cheek. JJ’s eyes passed over him without recognition, but he made a small sound in the back of his throat, gutted by the pain. “You’re going to be okay.”

He didn’t let himself think it could be a lie. He just didn’t.

By now, the ambulance had pulled up behind the car, and John B heard the sounds of the doors opening. Then, footfalls across the road. He looked up to see the two figures approaching, their gear in hand. One of them, a woman, came around to JJ’s other side.

The second, though, stopped short.

For a second, John B was confused.

But then he recognized the figure: Ricky.

It had taken him a second to recognize JJ’s cousin.

It had taken Ricky less time to recognize JJ.

The professionalism drained away, and Ricky came to a standstill in the roadway. Most of the times he’d met Ricky, the dude had been pissed or high.

Now, he just looked terrified.

“What the hell,” he said, gasping the words. “JJ?”

John B couldn’t help it. He felt relief. For the help. For a familiar face. “Ricky, you got to get him out of here,” John B said, afraid to let go of JJ’s hand. “I think he’s really messed up, man. His leg—“

Ricky’s eyes had already settled on the damaged limb. If John B hadn’t known it was bad before, he knew it now. The horror on Ricky’s face was evidence. If he thought it was bad, then it was worse than John B had let himself consider.

Bad like JJ could lose his leg.

Bad like JJ could die.

Bad.

The girl, Dana by her name tag, looked at Ricky with renewed concern from her spot next to JJ and opposite John B. “You know these kids, Rick?”

Even in the dark, strobe lights of the ambulance, Ricky looked nearly as ashen as JJ. “He’s my cousin,” he replied tautly. He looked at John B. “How long has it been?”

John B shrugged, pulled down by a helpless weight of desperation. “10 minutes, maybe? We lost consciousness, so I don’t know.”

Ricky hissed a curse, running a hand through his hair.

Dana looked increasingly concerned as she unfurled her kit. “You got this? Because he needs help. Now.”

There was a warning in her voice, punctuated by the uneven pull of JJ’s breathing.

Ricky knew it, too. Almost better than John B.

“I have to have this,” Ricky muttered. He shook his head and pursed his lips. “He won’t make it if we call another rig. Get him set up on the monitors and IV. I’ll splint his leg.”

Dana nodded, small and tight, and both of them got to work. John B watched them for a moment – the prick of the needle in JJ’s arm and Ricky taking off JJ’s shoe to reveal a badly discolored foot – and he couldn’t.

He looked at JJ instead.

Pale, eyes open – and terrified. “‘S bad?” he asked, the words were slurring badly now. He was shaking visibly as his breathing became short and gasping. “‘S bad, right?”

John B wet his lips, fumbling for an answer. “It is kind of a mess,” he said, smiling despite the fact that Ricky was removing a split, something big and bulky to wrap around the distended section of JJ’s shin. Dana had planted the leads on JJ’s chest, and something was starting to beep in protest.

“sh*t, his pressure’s already tanking,” Dana hissed.

“He’s bleeding into his leg,” he said. “Foot’s already losing circulation.”

John B didn’t know what it meant, exactly. But he knew enough. JJ’s eyes flickered downward, and John B intervened, cupping the side of his face so he looked back at him. “But we’re taking care of it,” he said, with false confidence, the kind they’d honed to perfection over the years, just between the two of them. JJ’s eyes were wide and terrified as he looked back up at John B. “We always manage, don’t we? You and me?”

Two boys, with nothing but each other facing the world. So much had changed, but somehow that was still true.

No matter how old they got, no matter how much money they made, no matter how serious their relationships: it was still true. John B and JJ were meant to face this world together.

For better.

And for worse.

“I don’t – feel so good,” JJ said, and the panic was starting to fade from his face. The pain was starting to abate. The rest of the color was draining from his cheeks, and John B realized with a crushing fear what was happening. “John B–”

The monitor chirped again, insistent and angry. Ricky had gone pale, applying a tourniquet above the splint. Dana was reaching for an oxygen mask, slipping it over JJ’s mouth and nose and hooking it behind his ears.

“We have to get him out of here,” Ricky said, and he sounded nearly as desperate as John B felt.

Dana gritted her teeth. “He’s as stable as he’s going to get,” she muttered. “Let’s scoop and run. You’re driving–”

Ricky opened his mouth to protest–

Dana shot him a look. “Trust me,” she said. “You can’t be back there with him. Not now.”

Ricky snapped his mouth shut again, his jaw visibly clenching. He nodded tautly. “Okay, let’s load him,” he said.

They worked together, supporting JJ’s head and neck as they rolled him on his side. Dana slid in the backboard, and Ricky lowered him back down with shaking hands. Dana was quick to take over, strapping JJ in tightly as Ricky fumbled with the neck brace.

And John B could do nothing but watch. JJ’s eyes were open, but he didn’t seem to know what was going on. That might have been a blessing, but it terrified John B too much to feel much relief anymore. He stood back, watching tensely as they lifted JJ and started moving him across the roadway. John B followed as close as he dared, refusing to let JJ out of his sight.

At the back of the ambulance, they load the backboard onto a stretcher, and unlock the wheels to push JJ in the back. Dana was already climbing in with him, and Ricky nodded gravely on John B. “You can ride in the back with him,” he said. He wet his lips, swallowing. “But you have to stay out of Dana’s way. No matter what happens.”

John B blinked, feeling suddenly stupid. “But what’s going to happen–”

Ricky’s face was pinched and he shook his head. “Just stay with him, okay?” he said. “Keep him awake.”

He didn’t know Ricky well. Beyond Ricky’s penchant for growing pretty damn good weed, he didn’t know him at all. But he understood the voice; he understood the tone.

Ricky wanted John B back there because he couldn’t be.

Ricky wanted John B back there to keep JJ grounded.

Ricky wanted John B back there so he wouldn’t have to be alone.

He nodded, throat too tight to respond.

Ricky nodded back, and then he turned away to the front of the ambulance. John B turned numbly, and climbed in after Dana. She guided him to the front, half-shoving him in one of the jump seats. “Hold on, kid,” she said, shutting the door of the ambulance before turning back to JJ. “This isn’t a long trip, but it’s going to feel like it takes forever.”

With that, the engine rumbled to life and the sirens started again. They lurched toward the hospital, and John B braced himself on the side and kept his eyes locked on JJ.

They’d made it this far – tonight and in their lives – so John B had to believe they could see this through to the other side.

His eyes burned as he looked at JJ.

God help them both, he prayed they could see this through to the other side together.

-o-

For the first few minutes, John B didn’t trust himself to move. Hell, he barely trusted himself to breathe. He sat there, fingers gripped the seat so tight his knuckles were white. Watching.

John B didn’t move, but Dana didn’t stop. She busied herself with JJ’s care, moving around to set up monitors, to hang IVs, to pack wounds, to apply dressings. Amid her nonstop activity, JJ was uncomfortably still. John B knew he was alive because the monitors were still showing his heart rate, and he could see the rise and fall of his chest. His eyes were open, looking blankly at the ceiling.

JJ had looked bad in the car; he’d looked terrible on the roadside.

Here, in the stark lights of the ambulance, he somehow looked worse. The lights made the wanness of his complexion even more dramatic, and the smears of blood stood out garish and bright. Even the medical intervention from Dana, designed to save JJ’s life, only seemed to accentuate just how bad this was.

Dana fiddled with the IV, injecting something into it. She said something quiet to JJ, placing a hand on his head and smiling. Then she glanced back at John B. “I’m just trying to get his heart rate to stabilize a bit,” she explained. “If you want to talk to him, it might help.”

Dana slid out of the way, closer down to JJ’s leg, and John B understood. She was going to check the leg and probably dress it again. JJ could use all the distraction he could get.

sh*t, so could John B.

Shakily, he got up, using his hand to balance himself against the side of the rig. It took him a minute to find his footing, and another minute to get a stable position above JJ.

He almost lost his nerve, no doubt. JJ was in pain, and JJ was scared. And what the hell was John B supposed to do? He felt like he was 15 again, too. Totally helpless against whatever sh*t the world threw at them.

But even at 15, he knew how to do this.

“Hey,” he said, bringing his lips to a smile. He reached down, brushing his fingers against JJ’s cheek to bring him back around. JJ startled a little, but his blue eyes tracked sluggishly back up to him. “How you doing, bud?”

JJ blinked at him. “John B?”

The sound of his voice wavered, almost precariously quiet over the sound of the sirens and the road outside. It was hard to make them out, but John B knew what he said. He knew what he meant.

He moved his hand down, finding JJ’s hand from where he was strapped down to the backboard. He squeezed his fingers, forcing himself to keep the smile in place.

He didn’t look at Dana, who was looking at the macabre mess that was JJ’s leg. The blood and the bone and the discolored skin–

It made goosebumps break out on his skin, and he didn’t look.

“We’re getting you out of here, okay?” he said. “We’re getting help. We’re just about there.”

JJ’s eyes may have been open, but his coherency was in and out. His eyes went wide again, and those same fears – the ones John B had thought they left in their childhood – were still there, still strong. “Ambulance?”

“Remember, we’re not kids,” John B reminded him. He’s as firm as he can be. Clear. JJ’s hurt enough as it is; he can’t take the fear. “It’s fine, bub. It’s fine.”

JJ nodded vaguely, more at John B’s tone than the words. His eyes slipped to the ceiling again, the blue badly dilated. From the pain, from the blood loss, from the drugs – John B didn’t know. But he was clearly getting worse.

It wasn’t a reassurance John B shared. He glanced at Dana, who was just covering up JJ’s leg again. “How’s he doing?”

Her expression was pinched. “This is a very serious injury, kid. I’m not going to lie.”

“Is that why you didn’t let Ricky back here?” he asked. “Because JJ needs more care than Ricky can give him like this?”

She worked her jaw, as if not sure what to say. “I didn’t want him back here, because your friend could still die. He’s bleeding into his leg – badly,” she said softly. She sighed, looking at JJ’s vitals again with a shake of her head. “As it is, he’s going to need surgery, and I don’t know if they can save his foot.”

It was like impact all over again. The force of the steering wheel against his head.

sh*t..

He looked back to JJ. “John B?” JJ asked.

“Yeah, buddy,” he said, squeezing his hand again and reaching up to brush his fingers through his hair with the other, mindful of the blood. “I’m here.”

“Don’t tell my dad,” he said, eyes blinking slowly closed. “Please, don’t tell him.”

The promises were stuck in his throat. The reassurance died on his tongue this time.

Because as JJ’s eyes closed, the monitor started wailing. John B looked at it, not sure what it meant. But Dana sprang to action, the tight expression on her face telling him that this was bad.

She reached for a vial of medicine, quickly filling a syringe and injecting something into the IV.

“What is that?” John B asked, his voice shaky.

“Epinephrine,” she said. “We need it to help his heart start–”

“Wait,” John B said, breath catching now. He looked at the monitor again and understood. JJ’s heart had stopped beating. JJ was–

Dana got up, scaling the side of the gurney. This gave her the leverage she needed to straighten her arms and start pushing – hard and fast – in the center of JJ’s chest. He’d seen CPR before, even up close. He lived in a coastal community; it happened.

But never this personal.

Never with someone he knew.

The pressure on JJ’s ribcage; the colorless hue of his slack mouth. The steady hum of the machine as the sirens wailed outside. Blood still pooling around JJ’s ruined leg.

And she kept going. Harder. Longer.

John B found it hard to breathe, like his own heart was stuttering. “Is he–”

Dana looked around, face flushed. “We’re almost there,” she said breathlessly. “Stay out of the way, kid. When we get parked, stay out of the way–”

Just like that, the ambulance came to a halt. He heard the door slam and voices outside. “MVA with an open fracture,” Ricky was explaining. Then, the back of the ambulance opened, and Ricky’s voice died. “JJ?”

Dana hopped down, unlocked the wheels. “CPR’s been ongoing for about a minute,” she reported, and the rest of the medical team was moving the gurney, easing it out onto the ground. One of the doctors was rapidly assessing JJ’s vitals and the other got up on the gurney to continue the compressions. Dana was out of breath, but not out of poise. “Ounce of epi’s on board, but no reaction yet.”

Belatedly, John B remembered to follow, coming down from the back of the ambulance several steps behind. He looked at Ricky, who was still standing there in shock.

“Is JJ–”

Ricky took a ragged breath and swallowed hard. “Come on,” he said, tugging John B by the arm. “Come on–”

Numbly, John B could only follow. He kept pace with Ricky, vision partially tunneled as they went through the doors. Apparently, Ricky’s credentials as a paramedic carried weight. No one stopped them, not as they bypassed the desk and walked straight into the trauma room where Dana was still at the side of JJ’s stretcher, performing chest compressions, while the rest of the medical team fell into place.

It was a lot, though. It was too much. John B didn’t know what they were saying; he didn’t know what they were doing. He watched as they moved into place, someone in a gown and gloves taking over for Dana, who stepped back and offered a litany of responses.

The monitors were hooked up; the IV was hung. And beneath it all, JJ was pale and still.

JJ was–

“Okay, clear–” someone said, and the whole medical team backed up. He felt Ricky go painfully still, and John B blinked.

JJ was shocked, a current pulsing through him. He twitched, visibly jerking on the table, and John B flinched – hard.

“Okay,” someone said, as the team moved back into position. “We’ve got him back in sinus.”

Dana was packing up her things, and she passed by them on her way out. “I’ll call you out,” she said to Ricky. She glanced back at the table, where the medical team was working on JJ. “Looks like you may be in for a long night.”

Ricky’s jaw twitched, but he nodded and blinked hard. Dana bit her lip and looked at John B. “Good luck, kid,” she said.

She didn’t say that she thought he was going to need.

She didn’t have to.

Her expression made it clear enough just how bad this was.

Just like that, Dana was gone, and Ricky had gone utterly silent at John B’s side. All they could do was watch while the medical team worked.

Presumably to save JJ’s leg.

Presumably to save JJ’s life.

Just save JJ.

Someone cut away the rest of JJ’s clothes, and someone was calling for a portable X-ray. Another doctor was at JJ’s leg, looking worried.

And the leg–

In the stark lights, it was even worse here. John B found that he couldn’t look away, not even as they exposed the full extent of the wound, from the garish bone to the bad discoloration of his foot. “Someone tell ortho to meet us up in the OR. After we scan the belly and chest, I want scans of the leg and foot.”

All the activity around JJ, for JJ – and somehow, JJ was more alone than ever. He looked small there. Like an afterthought. One of the nurses brushed JJ’s hair back from his face, making sure the oxygen mask was secure around his face.

“He needs to be in the OR now,” someone said. They sounded grave. “Or this kid is going to lose his leg.”

“He’s going to lose a lot more–”

“Is he stable?”

“Good enough for transport–”

And just like that, they were moving, unlocking the wheels on JJ’s gurney. John B stood stupidly as they moved toward him, and Ricky finally pulled him out of the way as they took JJ out.

One of the nurses, lingering behind, looked at them. “Do you know someone we can call for him?” she asked.

Oh.

Oh, sh*t.

As hard as this had been so far, John B was struck with the next grown up task he had to face tonight.

Calling Kiara.

And telling her that JJ might not live.

“Yeah,” Ricky said. “Yeah, we know who you can call.”

“Good,” the nurse said. She smiled, but it was sad. “You might want to get them here.”

She tipped her head to the side, almost apologetic.

“Just in case.”

-o-

Ricky looked tired as sh*t, but he knew what they had to do. He made sure JJ initial paperwork was started, and he gave the nurse at the desk Kiara’s name and number to call. Then. He dragged John B to the waiting room.

To wait, it seemed.

It was a lot to think about, suddenly. Everything has happened so fast, he hasn’t had time to think. And now JJ was in surgery, and he might lose his leg, and he might not survive, and—

John B felt his breathing catch, and the blood drained from his head. His legs practically gave out, and he slumped to one of the chairs. The numbness was pervasive now, but it wasn’t enough to let him escape the horror.

Of JJ’s leg like.

Of JJ like that.

He’d held his father in his arms while he bled out – and survived. He wasn’t sure if he could survive this. Another loss too many.

Ricky had the opposite reaction, though. If John B deflated, Ricky was a pent up ball of energy. Maybe it was adrenaline, and John AB’s was spent. Maybe it was a Maybank thing, brimming with restlessness.

Whatever it was, John B could only watch as he started pacing, back and forth in front of John B, running a hand anxiously through his hair. John B looked at him, feeling helpless. Ricky, after several minutes, looked back. He drew a breath and came to a stop, shaking his head.

“All the stupid sh*t JJ does,” he said, starting to pace again. “And I’ve never seen him this bad.”

“You and me both,” John B said. He sighed, closing his eyes for a second. “I was the one driving. This is my fault.”

Ricky stopped again, looking at John B.

“There was a deer–”

Ricky looked away. He sighed and finally sat down next to him. “We get car accidents on that stretch of road all the time,” he said. “And it’s mating season with an overpopulated species. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But JJ–”

“It’s not your fault,” Ricky said again, a little firmer now. “You are by far the most stable thing in JJ’s life, and everyone knows it.”

It didn’t help like it should. Understanding it, explaining it, justifying it – just didn’t help.

Not when JJ–

He inhaled, trying to get his nerves to calm again. “It was still me at the wheel.”

“Yeah,” Ricky said. He shook his head, helpless. “And I’m a damn paramedic and my baby cousin’s heart stopped in the back of my rig.”

He had a point there. John B looked down, not sure what to say.

Ricky sighed. “Look, I’m just saying,” he said. John B glanced at him, and Ricky continued. “Spending any time with JJ is just an invitation for regrets. I know. I have a lifetime of them, man.”

John B chewed on his fingernail, feeling the anxiety refuse to abate in his chest. He jiggled his knee and shook his head. “I just thought we’d outgrown it,” he said. “I mean, we’re adults now. Luke’s long gone. JJ has a job, money, stability–”

“You can’t outgrow that sh*t,” Ricky said. “I didn’t even live through it, and I can’t forget it, you know?”

John B did know. Sitting here, it was impossible to deny it.

Ricky’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “I should have done something a long time ago,” he said. “I mean, I knew Luke. I knew he was a drunk and an addict. I saw him smack JJ around when he got into sh*t at family get-togethers. We all saw it; we all knew. And none of us did a damn thing about it.”

“It took me awhile to put it together,” John B said. “JJ was good at hiding sh*t. He is good at it.”

He thought about his fears on the side of the road, his last word’s in the ambulance. The fears he’d been carrying for years and never once mentioned.

“I know,” Ricky said miserably. “He almost made you feel like you were supposed to just play along, even though it was bullsh*t.”

The familiarity of it hurt. It felt like it was still yesterday.

“It was such bullsh*t,” Ricky said, and he took a long, slow breath and let it out again. “And we just kept playing along. Luke would get arrested, and JJ would stay with us. We saw all the bruises, but we pretended like it was normal. sh*t, we believed it when Luke said he was picking fights at school.”

“I never said anything either,” John B admitted. “I mean, he never wanted me to.”

“Right, because JJ was supposed to know best,” Ricky said. He sat back, running a hand through his curls. “It’s so stupid, the way we do that. The way we hold JJ accountable for his bullsh*t ideas but never talk about why he has them. Abuse victims aren’t supposed to have to do it by themselves. I’m a trained paramedic. I’m a mandatory reporter, and I knew Luke beat the sh*t out of him, and I didn’t do anything.”

It was hard to have a response to that. Ricky was right, of course.

And that still wasn’t the point. “We did it to protect him,” he said. “I mean, right or wrong, we did it to protect him.”

“I know,” Ricky said. He sounded defeated, like he’d come to accept this a long time ago. “But we made it a punchline, right? We made him a punchline. If we chalk it all up to stupid sh*t, then we don’t have to talk about what he went through.”

That sounded painfully familiar. John B felt it, grating on the inside of his bruised ribs.

“The sh*t he went through – the worst of it – he doesn’t even talk about,” Ricky said. He chewed the inside of his lip.

“He told me bits and pieces,” John B confessed. “But only when he couldn’t hide it.”

Ricky was quiet for a moment. “It’s amazing he made it,” Ricky said. This time, his voice was tinged with wonder as he looked at John B again. “You know? It’s amazing he made it. He survived that piece of sh*t Luke. He outgrew his stupid antics. He got a job. He made a family. He did it, you know. He did it.”

He did do it. He did it all.

And now he was in surgery; now he might not survive.

To finally make it.

Just to lose it all.

John B struggled to take a deep breath. He struggled to form the words. “He’s going to be okay, though,” he said. And, then even less certainly, he added, “Isn’t he?”

He wanted certainty, just like a little kid.

But he wasn’t a child.

And Ricky was fresh out of reassurances. “I don’t know, man,” he admitted wearily. The way he ran his hand through his unruly hair reminded him of JJ. “He’s survived so much sh*t.”

He was supposed to take that as the answer, the truth, good enough.

It was hard, though. John B felt so tired. His head throbbed, his ribs ached, and everything felt like it was ready to explode, like he was the smoking engine this time, waiting for the spark. “I just need him to be okay,” he said, and his voice sounded shakier than he intended, but he couldn’t pull it back. Not here, not now.

Ricky looked at him, and this time, he seemed to see him. “I know,” he said, and he sat up a little. “sh*t, though. You were in a car accident, too, and you look awful. You need to see a doctor.”

The sudden shift wasn’t one he was prepared for. John B sat back wearily. “I’m fine.”

The deflection didn’t seem to work, however. Ricky was slipping into full-on medic mode.

“You look like you have a concussion,” Ricky said. He had left his seat and was quite suddenly kneeling in front of John B in full-on medic mode.

The fact that John B didn’t see it happened probably meant that Ricky was right.

But admitting it was suddenly hard.

Talking was hard. Thinking was hard. sh*t, everything was hard.

“Blurry vision?” Ricky asked, somehow producing a penlight and flashing it in his eyes. John B flinched and Ricky frowned. “Nausea?”

Yes and yes was the answer, but John B swatted Ricky’s hand away. “I’m fine.”

Ricky turned his head from side to side, fingering the bruises and cuts in his face and scalp. He found an area that was more tender than he remembered, and he hissed with pain.

“No, you’re hyped on adrenaline,” Ricky said pointedly. He runs his hands down John B’s arms. “Did you hit the steering wheel? Can I see your chest?”

John B was trying to say no, but somehow Ricky had already moved his hands out of the way and had his shirt up. He grunted as Ricky pressed on the bruises. “What the hell—“

Ricky shook his head, pulling his hand back. “Ribs don’t feel fractured, but you’re bruised to hell.”

“You think?” John B snapped, shoving his shirt back down.

Ricky barely looked perturbed. “You need to let the doctor check you out. You’ll probably need X-rays to clear you.”

“You just said nothing’s broken,” John B countered with a frown.

“I said nothing feels broken,” Ricky said. “I’m a medic, not a doctor, and I’m giving you a once over in a waiting room. We should get you checked in.”

Ricky was up again, reaching for John B’s arm as if to pull him up, too. But John B resisted, pulling his arm back and shaking his head. “I don’t want to miss an update on JJ.”

“He’s in surgery,” Ricky said. “A long one, if all goes well. The amount of reconstruction for his leg is going to be substantial.”

Ricky had a point, and John B knew it. He just didn’t care. He couldn’t care. Not when he’d seen JJ like that. “Please.”

They weren’t friends, him and Ricky, but their mutual affection for JJ won out in the end. With a sigh, Ricky stepped back and shook his head. “You’re an adult. I can’t make you do anything,” he said. “But if we notice any change in your condition, or if you develop any new symptoms–”

John B nodded readily. “Totally,” he said. “You have my word.”

A little dejected, Ricky walked back to his seat and sat down again. He took out his phone. “I should call my folks,” he muttered. “JJ wouldn’t want an audience, but my mom’s going to freak.”

John B nodded, and he felt a little numb. He bit the inside of his lip hard. “I should probably call my friends, too.”

Ricky glanced at him. They weren’t friends, true, but Ricky understood who JJ was. He knew that when John B talked about friends, it wasn’t a casual acquaintance. They were family. He nodded in agreement. “They’ve probably already called Kiara. Are you sure they haven’t been calling you?”

John B took out his phone, looking at it dumbly. He had it on silent, but his finger shook as he unlocked it. Blood was smeared on the screen. Ricky was right; there were messages from all of them and a string of missed calls – from Sarah, Pope, Cleo – and Kie.

He exhaled, feeling shaky. “What am I supposed to tell them?

“The truth,” Ricky said, and he made it sound simple. “They’re going to find it out when they get here anyway. It’s best to know.”

“That JJ might lose his leg?” John B asked. And he was blinking away tears again. “That he might not even survive?”

Ricky, though, shook his head. “That JJ needs them,” he said. “Just that he needs his family. Because that’s all he’s ever needed, and his real family? Let him down. You guys won’t, though. I know it.”

He pulled up Kie’s number and sighed.

Being an adult meant you faced the hard sh*t.

Even when it was really, really hard.

He hoped like hell Ricky was right about everything.

-o-

He called Kiara, but honestly, he wasn’t sure what he said. She asked questions; she cried. Finally, Sarah got on the phone and said they were on their way, they’d be there soon, and are you okay?

John B stopped at the last question, like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

He’d said he was fine to Ricky. He’d all but refused medical attention.

Was he okay?

Could he be okay?

The weightless feeling from the accident, the reverberation of the impact, and JJ’s wide, terrified eyes as she slipped into the past.

And the way JJ’s body had been so still while they did chest compressions.

JJ’s leg was a garish wound, but it was something they could treat. They could do surgery and fix it.

What was wrong with John B – was the sort of sh*t he wasn’t sure he could fix. He couldn’t go under anesthesia and wake up with everything okay.

Sometimes being an adult meant you told the truth.

Sometimes it meant you lied.

The people who loved you knew which one was which.

-o-

John B recounted the accident as best he could. He tried to explain the roadway and the way he and JJ had been laughing. That damn deer came out of nowhere, and there was nothing he could do.

Telling the rest was harder, breaking down the details of JJ’s leg and how the car had caught on fire. He didn’t have the heart to tell them about JJ’s heart stopping, not with Kie sitting there, looking at him like that.

He ended with what he knew, telling them that JJ was in surgery and that it was going to be a long one while they tried to reconstruct his leg.

That was that.

As if he could recap the tragedy of it all.

The others seemed to understand, though. Maybe they could read between the lines. Maybe they just understood the haunted look in John B’s eyes. Maybe they were all feeling JJ’s absence like a gaping hole none of them knew how to fill.

“How long has he been in surgery?” Pope asked.

John B shrugged. “I – don’t know.”

“About an hour,” Ricky chimed in from the other side of the room. He’d been mostly quiet, only supplying answers when directly asked. But he seemed to recognize that John B was at the end of what he could say. “And John B wasn’t joking about the duration. The amount of work on his leg is going to be substantial. As long as they can keep his vitals up, he’ll be in there all night.”

As long as his heart didn’t stop again, John B thought. He didn’t say it, but he had to swallow back a shudder.

Pope chewed his bottom lip, fingers squeezing Cleo’s hand. “They have real time information about this stuff now,” he said. He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I might be able to get us an update. The nurses can be good about that stuff sometimes, if they know there’s family waiting.”

Cleo nodded in agreement. “I’m sure we can sweet talk someone into helping us,” she said, getting to her feet and pulling Pope up with her.

Pope looked at John B. “I’m glad you’re okay, man.”

John B tried to smile. He wanted to say thanks, but the words didn’t form.

Pope looked at Kiara, putting a hand on her shoulder, before he and Cleo turned and walked down the hallway toward the nurse’s station. As they retreated, John B glanced at Kiara and damn near lost it again.

Not just because Kie was his friend. Not just because they were family.

But because JJ and Kiara were special. It had made sense when they finally got together, like puzzle pieces slipping into place. And JJ loved Kiara so damn much that it hurt to watch sometimes. He’d do anything for her, anything at all. He would hate to see her like this, to see her sitting there, looking lost and vacant and scared.

“Whatever,” Kiara muttered to no one in particular. She pushed her hair back and sighed. “I’m supposed to go finish paperwork,” she said. “I told them I’d be back—“

Sarah straightened. “I can come with you.”

Kiara looked at her, and then she glanced at John B. “No, it’s just bureaucratic bullsh*t. It’s not a group activity,” she said. She smiled in a way that didn’t look like a smile at all. “I won’t be long. You’ll let me know?”

Sarah’s smile was also fake, but her act was more convincing. “Of course, yeah,” she said. “And just text if you need backup. I know how nurses can get.”

Sarah looked blonde and beautiful, but John B had learned early not to underestimate her. It was one of the reasons he loved her. And he was grateful she was here. He honestly didn’t know where he’d be without her.

But even that didn’t make this easier.

Because every ounce of comfort he got was something JJ couldn’t share. Here was John B, healthy and with their friends. And where was JJ? On an operating table getting his leg put back together.

That context made comfort impossible to parse.

Because what was anything without JJ?

He couldn’t help it, though. When Sarah slipped her arm around him, he melted into her touch. His composure threatened to slip again, and John B worried for a horrible second that he was going to fall apart completely.

His breathing caught; Sarah noticed.

She sat back then, smoothing his hair out of his face. Her fingers brushed against the bruises and cuts. “Are you okay? Are you really okay? You look like sh*t.”

He didn’t have the energy to brush her hands away, but he did feel like he was trembling at the softness of her touch. “I’m fine.”

His voice didn’t sound very convincing, and Sarah knew him better than that anyway. “Are you sure?” she asked, clearly skeptical. She traces her fingers down his arms, looking at the drying blood with clear concerns. “Did you even get looked at?”

“Ricky looked at me,” he said.

Across the room, Ricky held up his hand. “Hey, man, don’t drag me into it. I told you to see a doctor.”

John B rolled his eyes, doing his best to keep Sarah’s attention on him instead. “He said I’m probably fine.”

Ricky had the decency not to contradict that point and stayed silent. Sarah still looked unconvinced. “John B–”

She looked like she was about ready to do some real Kook sh*t, like drag his ass to the ER or go drag a nurse to triage him herself. He knew it was because she loved him. In any other situation, he might have agreed. He was an adult, after all. He could be responsible like she expected him to be.

But adult or no, JJ was still in surgery. There was no way in hell he was leaving, not until he knew JJ was okay. “Please,” he said, imploring her now. “I swear to you, I’m not dizzy. I have a little headache, and I’m a little sore from the impact, but I’m fine.”

She pursed her lips, glancing at Ricky again. “His head’s not about to explode or anything?”

“Unlikely,” Ricky said, somehow helpfully. “If he hasn’t shown concussion symptoms by now–”

“Internal bleeding?” she asked with a frown, eyeing his rumpled t-shirt dubiously.

“Sarah–”

“You were in a car accident!” she objected.

“That can have a delayed presentation,” Ricky said, this time utterly unhelpfully.

“Come on,” John B protested. “You said we were good to wait and see.”

“She asked!” Ricky protested right back. “I’m not going to lie to her.”

Sarah looked at John B, eyebrows up expectantly.

“sh*t,” he said, slumping back in his seat. He scrubbed a hand warily over his face. “Ricky’s a paramedic and he’s right here. If anything starts to hurt or seems weird, we’re literally sitting in a hospital.”

Undoubtedly, Sarah wanted to argue, but her desire to get him medical care was pushing right up her desire to let him rest. He doubted his arguments had been that compelling, but Sarah seemed inclined to give into him for now.

“Fine,” she says. She reached down and took his hand. “But you scared me tonight.”

John B looked at her. “I scared myself,” he said. “The car–”

“The car doesn’t mean anything,” she assured him.

“But JJ–”

His voice broke with the name, and this time Sarah broke just a little too. “Is it bad?” she asked, quieter now.

He nodded, not sure if he could find his voice. With an uncertain breath, he ground out the words. “It’s really bad, Sarah,” he said, choking now. “His leg – and his heart stopped–”

Her fingers squeezed around his. “Oh, John B–”

“And they got him back,” he stuttered. “But I don’t – I don’t know–”

Her arms wrapped around him now, and she kissed him gently before nuzzling into his neck. “It’s okay,” she soothed. “It’s okay.”

He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know what else to do. It was like being a kid again, powerless against the world.

But the consequences of adulthood, bearing down hard and fast.

As he let Sarah hold him, he thought maybe JJ was the only one hiding just how terrified he was.

-o-

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been crying. Honestly, he was sure how long he’d been here at all. It seemed like mere minutes that he and JJ had left work for the night.

It seemed like a lifetime.

He was sitting wearily in his seat when Kiara came back, Sarah half wrapped around him. He pulled away from her touch just slightly, and Sarah sat up, too.

“Kie,” she said, reaching out to take her hand as Kiara slumped into the seat next to her. “Hey.”

John B sat forward, peering around Sarah to look her in the eyes. Across the room, Ricky seemed to have dozed off. “Did they tell you anything?”

She scoffed bitterly as she sat down across from them. “Just that JJ has a high deductible plan,” she said tersely. “So I’ll need to talk to billing at some point.”

The exhaustion in her voice was evident; it was written all over her face, too. She was terrified, but the only way she could deal with it was to be pissed instead.

John B could alleviate the source of it.

But he could help with the rest. “We have enough to cover any of the medical bills,” he said quickly. “If you need it–”

She looked at him, eyes flashing. “John B, we all have cash. Even JJ. I didn’t let him spend it all,” she said. She sighed, slumping back herself now. “It’s just the principle of it all. That they’re already talking about payment when JJ’s–”

She stopped short, swallowing back the words. Her jaw tensed and she pressed her lips together for a moment while no one dared to speak.

“--while JJ’s still in surgery,” she concluded finally. She was quieter now. The anger had deflated.

There was no response to that, at least nothing that John B could think of. His mind wasn’t working as well as it normally did, not with the dull ache and the building pressure from the rest of the night. The emotions were hard to keep in check, and getting harder to control by the minute.

Finally, he blurted. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking right at Kiara. “I am so, so sorry.”

She frowned, pulling her brows together in genuine confusion. “For what?”

“I was driving,” John B said. “I was at the wheel when we crashed. I was the one – I did this – JJ–”

He couldn’t quite make the words form, and that emotion? Choked him now, and it was all he could do to swallow back a sob.

Kiara waited until he seemed to have himself back under control and then she sat forward, her elbows on her knees. In the background, Ricky seemed to have roused again, but he was noticeably trying not to listen. “John B, this isn’t your fault.”

“But it was me,” John B said, shaking his head. The tears were stinging his eyes now, and he wiped at them hard.

Sarah reached over to him, an arm behind his back. “That’s not how it works–”

“But if I had been more careful, JJ wouldn’t be – he might not–”

He couldn’t, though. He just couldn’t. He remembered the weightless sensation, the way the car had slammed into the road. And JJ’s cloudy eyes, the bloody state of his leg.

“Hey,” Kiara said. She got up, moving over until she was sitting next to him now, and Sarah’s arm was still around his back. “Do you really think, after all this time, there’s anything you can do without JJ being right there with you? He may be my boyfriend, but you two? Are a matched set. I knew that from the start.”

“I did, too,” Sarah added softly.

He shook his head, sniffling a little. “All the more reason this is my fault.”

“All the reckless, crazy sh*t we’ve done – a lot of which was JJ’s idea, by the way – and you’re apologizing for a car accident?” Kiara asked, and her skepticism was pointed now. Sarah’s fingers brushed along his shoulderblades, even as he found he couldn’t speak. “John B, were you driving recklessly?”

He flinched, eyes flashing toward Kiara. “What? No.”

“Were you under the influence of anything?” she pressed.

“Of course not,” he said, feeling a touch indignant now.

“Then, it was an accident, John B,” she said. “That means it just happened. sh*tty things happen for no reason, and we just have to live with it.”

He knew she was right on some level, but his heart wasn’t ready to accept what his head knew. Too much had happened tonight.

Kiara sighed and reached over, squeezing his wrist. “You know who would know that better than anyone? JJ.”

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. She was right, of course. He knew she was right. When he opened his eyes, Kie was still there. Her wet eyes met his.

“I’m still sorry,” he said, and this time he couldn’t keep the sob back. And Kiara leaned closer in the chair, over the remaining distance to hug him. Arms tight around him, he let out another muffled sob into her shoulder, and then Sarah was there, too, arms wrapped around him.

John B didn’t fight it; John B didn’t pretend.

Because whatever, okay?

Whatever.

Sometimes when you’re an adult, you just had to know when to let go.

-o-

He didn’t quite cry himself out, but John B cried until he could check himself, sniffling a few times before he pulled away. Sarah handed him tissues that she had procured magically from the depth of her purse, and Kiara sat back down with a sigh.

She looked exhausted.

John B understood. He felt it too. They were sitting there, poised on the edge of disaster, not sure if tonight had a happy ending or not. Worry was a sh*tty thing. An adult thing.

Except as an adult you had to face the fact that none of it was in your control. You didn’t see that sh*t coming as a kid. You thought adults had it all figured out.

It was bullsh*t, though. Adults just got better at pretending. Or they were supposed to. Sitting there with his friends, it seemed like none of them had mastered it.

But then, maybe that was it, too. Adulthood was about pretending.

Adulthood was just about accepting it.

And moving forward anyway.

Screw adulthood. It was too damn hard.

But you didn’t get to choose, did you? Because John B was here. He had to face it.

Or even if he didn’t, JJ did. There was no way in hell John B would leave JJ to that alone.

Pope and Cleo got back as he’s at there numbly, letting Sarah’s fingers brush over the back of his hand. He looked up as their friends approached, but Kiara beat him to it.

“Did you learn anything?” she asked before they could even sit.

“A little,” Pope said.

Cleo clicked her tongue. “You learned a little,” she said. “I learned a lot.”

Pope reddened a little. “I found the nurse who saw JJ in the ER.”

“And I got her to check in with the OR nurse for us,” Cleo said. “He’s alive. Holding his own.”

John B felt relief that was too palpable to explain. Sarah’s fingers tightened around his.

“They told you that?” Kiara asked.

“We saw his chart, too,” Pope said.

From his seat, even Ricky perked up. “How the hell did you pull that off?”

“It’s not so hard,” Cleo said coolly. “It’s all about charm and determination.”

“It’s also against every HIPAA law there is,” Pope said with a shake of his head. “But I think it paid off for us.”

“So, what did you learn?” Kiara asked, sitting anxiously on the edge of her seat.

“I mean, not a lot a lot,” Pope said, and he took a breath, as if to steady himself. He looked at Kiara, and then looked at John B as he seemed to adjust their expectations. “It’s not all good, though.”

Kiara’s expression wavered, but John B felt the words form like a hard ball in his gut. “What is it?”

“Well, most of it is just the clinical delineation of what happened,” Pope explained. “Some of it is over my head still, but I know enough to get the gist.”

“Which is?” Kiara said, voice smaller than before, but still pressing.

He hesitated, like he wasn’t quite sure telling them was the best idea. But they didn’t have secrets, not from each other. Especially not about the sh*t that mattered. “He has an open break of his tibia,” he said. “It ripped up a lot of the internal structures, so he lost a lot of blood and may have impeded blood flow to the foot. They got him into surgery quickly, though, so most of that should be reversible.”

The should be was subtle, but John B didn’t miss it.

Kie seemed intent on the good news, though. “So he’s going to be okay?”

“It’s a long, complicated surgery, and I couldn’t tell from the notes just what kind of reconstruction they’re going to have to do. I can’t say what the outcome will be,” he said. This time, he paused with a hard swallow. “Also, open fractures put you at a high risk of infection. So, even after surgery, the possibility of a complication is higher than we’d like.”

He looked at them each in turn now, and Cleo put a hand on his thigh and squeezed reassuringly.

“It’s serious,” Pope said. “But it’s also JJ. So the odds don’t mean sh*t.”

“The odds have never meant sh*t,” Cleo said, smiling warmly. “That rude boy can survive anything, I’m convinced.”

He tried to be swayed by their confidence. He tried to believe in their belief.

But hope could still see JJ, broken on the side of the road.

The look on his face, the sound of his voice.

JJ was the one with a garish wound, but something felt like it had been snapped in half for John B too.

Some injuries couldn’t be set.

Some wounds didn’t really heal.

But what could you do about it? What were you supposed to do about it?

Just wait.

Just hope.

Just wait.

-o-

Really, John B knew he should be good at this. All of it. Seeing JJ hurt. Patching him up. Picking up the pieces when he shattered.

Waiting for him.

After all, JJ had always been a mess. Even now, as adults, JJ didn’t always get it right. He was always impulsive and had a temper. He could still be reckless, and he often failed to exhibit natural self defense mechanisms. He was quick to throw a punch, sure, but rarely for the right reasons.

So John B should be good at this. He had practice. Too much practice.

He’d been trying to match JJ up for years, mend his broken parts. He’d let himself believe it was getting better, but JJ had broken all the same.

It was stupid, really. And just unfair. JJ always knew how to fix John B. With a smile, a joint, a joke, or a night out.

Sometimes, when it was hard enough, JJ came up with the worst bad plans, a 12 pack to split, and provided his constant presence even when no one else was around.

The things that hurt JJ, though, were harder. They cut deeper and broke more completely. Those things were more dangerous than an open fracture.

More painful too.

Those things might never heal, even with surgery and fast care.

So he should be good at this.

But this, taking care of JJ, was hard.

Maybe because he was an adult now. Maybe because the buck stopped with him. He couldn’t blame Luke for everything. He could get pissed about his old man leaving. Their problems were their problems.

Growing up meant the stakes were higher.

And maybe John B didn’t know totally what to do with that.

But his friends were here. No, JJ had had it right from the start. His family was here. For John B, for JJ. For all of them.

Growing up didn’t have to be a lonely process. Being an adult didn’t have to make you isolated.

It just meant you knew where to look for help.

His own father had been terrible at it.

But John B didn’t have to be.

John B could grow up to be a better man, after all.

-o-

He lost track of time. Every second waiting was too long, and the pounding of h8m head kept him decently subdued for all of it. He dozed off for awhile despite himself, slumped against Sarah’s shoulder, until she was nudging him awake.

“Hey,” she cajoled. He blinked groggily, trying to clear the pounding in his skull. “The nurse is here—“

That was all it took. Screw the headache, forget the broken ribs. He was awake and alert and JJ—

Still reeling from his sudden return to consciousness, it was hard to clear his vision and to get his ears to focus. He could make out the nurse talking to Cleo in hushed tones. Cleo nodded back, wetting her lips. She smiled. The nurse gave her a hug.

John B practically tripped over his own feet getting out of his seat. Sarah followed him, bracing him as he converged on Cleo. “So?” he said.

Pope was sitting next to her, wide-eyed. Kiara didn’t seem to trust herself to move, still sitting like stone in the other seat. Nearby, Ricky was at full alert, too.

“Easy,” Cleo said, looking around at them. “The nurse was just telling me he’s alive and he’s out of surgery.”

That was good news. But John B didn’t know how to believe it. At this point, he wasn’t sure what it meant. After seeing JJ’s leg like that – after seeing JJ’s heart stop – he needed more. JJ had been hallucinating out on the road; John B felt like he might be hallucinating now. He swallowed thickly, managing to get his voice to work. “He’s alive?”

Cleo, at least, seemed to take pity on him. She knew him well enough; or maybe he just looked that bad. Either way, she nodded gently. “Yes,” she said. “And he’s on his way up to recovery now. The doctor should be out any minute–”

Almost on cue, another figure approached the group. John B didn’t recognize this one, a tall woman with dark hair in a ponytail. “Family of JJ Maybank?” she asked, even though she seemed to know already.

They were all on their feet already, and they converged on her as naturally as they could. The doctor, at least, didn’t seem to think it was weird to see a group of bedraggled 20-year-old, staring at her like they were either going to hug her or punch her.

“Good,” she said, a little perfunctory as she took them in with a smile pressed on her lips. “I’ve just had JJ moved up to recovery, where we’ll monitor him for a short period of time before he’s stable enough for the ICU ward. We’re listing his condition as critical but stable, but I do want to stress that I mostly have good news for all of you.”

Good news was still a surreal concept. John B was too tired. John B was too sore.

The memory of JJ being – not okay – was still too raw.

When none of them managed to speak – John B was too numb, he wasn’t sure what the hell was up with the others – she continued.

“My name is Dr. Meade,” she said, looking again at their anxious faces. John B was starting to feel light headed, and he felt Sarah press closer, taking his hand. Pope looked like he might physically pry her chart out of her hands, but Cleo was cool as could be. Ricky looked anxious at the back of the group, and Kiara’s face was set like stone as she took it in. “I’m the orthopedic surgeon who handled JJ’s leg reconstruction.”

That was one way of putting it, then. Leg reconstruction sounded all professional. It made the others quiet and sober.

But yeah, that hardly did it justice. John B had been there; he’d seen the bone sticking out of JJ’s shin. Calling it a reconstruction was something of an understatement, as far as he was concerned.

“We’re lowering his sedation levels and weaning him off the breathing tube before we transfer him, but I’m confident he’ll be up in the ICU within the hour,” she said. “Overall, I think the surgery went very well.”

All the bad sh*t going down tonight, and John B struggled to make sense of something good. Optimism was a hard call tonight, and the best he could do was stand there, listening dumbly.

He wasn’t the only one struggling. They were all still more kids than adults, when you got right down to it, and it felt a little like playacting, standing here, doing adult sh*t like this. None of them had any idea what they were doing, not even Ricky – and he was a damn paramedic.

How much of adulthood was making sh*t up as you went along?

How much of it was taking what life gave you because you had no other choice?

There was no choice about it, though. The only other option was to leave JJ on his own – and that wasn’t going to happen.

Not with John B.

Not with any of them.

“While JJ sustained a variety of injuries in the accident, the only one that really needed surgical attention was his leg. He sustained an open fracture of his shin bone, which cut off circulation to his foot for a period of time,” she said, recapping the gruesome injury with more civility than John B had thought possible. “Our first goal was to restore blood flow to the foot before focusing on putting the bone back together. It was a relatively clean break, which mean we were able to salvage the bone and merely reinforce it with metal plates and screws, which we think will allow the break to heal successfully.”

Right, John B thought as he stood there. All they had to do was screw JJ’s leg back together. No big deal.

He could feel Sarah trembling next to him. Pope looked ready to pass out, but Cleo was keeping him grounded. Ricky was a mess, and Kiara was the only one there who looked stoic at all. Even so, no one had anything to say.

Not to that.

The doctor seemed to take the note, bolstering her smile to keep talking.

“First of all, JJ tolerated the procedure well, despite its length and the toll it took on his body,” she continued. “We were able to keep his vitals strong and stable, and he’s resting comfortably while the anesthesia wears off. I think he’ll wake up soon.”

Now, the others showed visible relief. Kie audibly let out a half sob, and Sarah clutched John B’s arm while Pope closed his eyes and leaned into Cleo. John B still felt too numb to move, to think, to breathe.

“That said, the surgery was difficult,” she said with an air of caution. They were all making up this adult sh*t as they went along, but this lady was the real deal. Or maybe doctors just learned to fake it better. John B wasn’t sure which answer was most comforting. “The complexities of the break were concerning, and it required more interventions than I had hoped, but my team was able to salvage the foot. He’s going to need some extensive physical therapy, but I am very pleased with how the reconstruction turned out. We have to watch for signs of infection, but if we can stay ahead of that, I think he has a good chance at full recovery.”

She said it like that, like it was okay.

Like JJ was going to be okay.

Like JJ was going to walk away from this – literally and figuratively.

For some reason, John B’s brain basically stopped working at this point, as if the good news had short circuited the process. Sarah’s grip was suddenly so tight that he couldn’t feel his fingers, and it was Kiara who finally took a breath and said, “So he’s going to be okay?”

Dr. Meade smiled, and this time it seemed more than polite. It was gentle and reassuring. “His foot is looking healthy again, and the bone took to the procedure very well,” she said. “His vitals have been strong since we got him stabilized. I have no reason but to be hopeful.”

“But he surfs,” Kiara said. “And he boats. And he’s active. And–”

Her breath caught, and her voice was choked off. John B looked at her and realized her stoic facade was barely held together. He leaned toward her, feeling guilty. Sarah stepped with him, wrapping an arm around her before Kiara could break.

“Like I said, he needs time and he will need physical therapy,” she said. “The fact that it’s his shin means that there are no joints involved, which gives his chances of full mobility a significant boost. My goal for him is fully recovery. For the surfing and the boating and everything else.”

She looked at Kiara.

Then she looked at everyone else.

Before her eyes settled on John B. Beat to hell like he was, she no doubt knew he’d been in the accident, too.

With one more breath, she nodded, and her smile became perfunctory once more. “I’ll make sure one of the nurses comes down to get you as soon as he’s up in a room,” she said. “It could take another 30 minutes to an hour, so try not to worry too much. He may be listed as critical for now, and we are going to monitor him in the ICU for a little bit, but he’s stable.”

Cleo managed to say thank you as the doctor left, and Kiara all but collapsed in the chair, breaking with a sob. Of exhaustion, of relief – of everything. John B wanted to cry, too, but he hadn’t regained feeling yet. sh*t, he wasn’t sure he was even thinking, not as Sarah sat down next to Sarah to give her a hug.

Pope came to him, nodding. His eyes were wet, too, as he wrapped John B in a hug, so hard it hurt. “He’s going to be okay,” he said, burying his face into John B’s shoulder. “He’s going to be okay.”

John B stood there dumbly before lifting one arm to pat Pope on the back. When he pulled back, Ricky sighed. “Look, I need to call my family,” he said. “Are you all staying?”

John B looked at him, like he might be crazy.

It sounded crazy.

He snorted, not sure he knew what else to do. “sh*t, man,” was all he could say. “Where else would we be?”

-o-

They’d been waiting for hours, so the final stretch shouldn’t have seemed so long. By this point, John B didn’t have much sense of time. It was late – it was early – he wasn’t sure if it was adrenaline or simple shock that had him keeping his eyes open.

But all of them were alert and oriented when the nurse took them upstairs. She showed them to a different waiting area, quieter and more secluded. She explained that JJ needed limited visitors while in the ICU ward, and that she knew it was hard, but this was all for JJ’s good.

That sounded fine, but she didn’t know JJ. She didn’t know how much JJ hated to be alone, how much he couldn’t be alone.

Getting better?

JJ would need his friends.

Especially after tonight.

But sometimes adults played by the rules. If he didn’t, he might not get to see JJ at all. Actions and consequences were a son of a bitch.

As they got settled, he thought any discussion was a moot point. If only one person could go see JJ, it would be Kiara.

His girlfriend. More than a girlfriend – the love his life. What Kie had to be going through – he knew it would be hard. He knew she needed to see him.

Yet when he looked at her expectantly, he found her already looking at him.

Just as expectantly.

“So?” Kiara asked. She pursed her lips like it took some effort.

John B was tired, concussed, sore – and messed up. He blinked back at her dumbly. “So what?”

“You going to go?” she asked, gesturing down the hall where JJ’s nurse had directed them.

“Oh, but I thought–” he started, not sure how to finish. His brow furrowed. “He’s your boyfriend.”

Kiara sighed wearily. “And in other circ*mstances, I would go first,” she said. “But JJ’s your brother, John B. And you were there with him when it happened.”

“I’m fine,” he said, the response playing on his lips before he had a chance to consider it.

“You’re not fine,” she said. “You look like sh*t, and I know you’re not going to get yourself look at in the ER, so for the love of God, just go sit with JJ so you can finally relax, okay? Or you’re going to pass out in this waiting room and freak us all out.”

It was – a point.

He just wasn’t sure it was the point.

But then, John B wasn’t sure what point he was even trying to make at this point.

Her face softened and she took him by the arm. “I’m not stupid, John B,” she said. “I know what you and JJ mean to each other. And after what you saw tonight, you go. It can be you.”

He wanted to hug her. He wanted to thank her. He wanted to collapse right there on the floor and sob.

What he managed to do was nod, though. Once and then twice.

He looked at Kiara.

And he looked at the others.

He used to think adults knew how to put others first and all that sh*t.

But sometimes – just sometimes – they got to be the selfish ones.

At the right moments.

For the right reasons.

John B was going to be the selfish one tonight.

-o-

John B limped his way through the ICU ward. The nurses regarded him warily, like they wanted to put him in a bed, too, but he managed to find JJ’s room before someone intercepted him and insisted he get looked at. He didn’t know how bad he actually looked at this point, but the stiffness was settling deep in his bones, and he could feel the pain from the bruises sharp and tight across his chest and head.

It didn’t matter, though.

What mattered was JJ.

JJ alive.

JJ okay.

JJ.

That was all he was thinking as he opened the door. It was all he was thinking as he took in the scene in JJ’s ICU for the first time.

It probably was supposed to be easier now. JJ’s life wasn’t in danger; his leg was safe. The threat of mortal peril was gone now. So, John B knew, it was supposed to be easier.

But when he caught that first sight of JJ, when he saw him in the ICU room, his knees nearly buckled and his head went light. Because there he was. There was JJ.

And it was just a lot. John B knew he was supposed to be an adult now, he was supposed to be able to handle this, but – it was a lot.

JJ was stretched out on the bed, covered in bandages that didn’t hide the full extent of the mottled bruises. He had an IV hooked up, and a clip was on his finger, and the electrodes were stringing out from underneath the hospital gown up to the bank of monitors above him. His eyes were closed, of course, and his skin lacked its normal luster. There was a nasal cannula under his nose, and a bloody tube was draining from his chest.

His leg was covered by the hospital blanket, but the bulk of the bandages was plainly evidence, and they’d elevated it slightly, leaving JJ looking unnatural and uncomfortable. His blonde hair was still matted in spots, crusted with blood in others, and it all made John B struggle to breathe.

He was alive, though. His heart was beating and he was stable. Memories of JJ crashing in the ambulance were hard to shake, but he tried to remember that. They’d survived that, just like they’d survived everything else.

They could survive this.

John B willed himself to step closer, moving stiffly to JJ’s bedside. He took a shuddering breath and hesitated. All of his instincts screamed to touch JJ, to offer him comfort, but he wasn’t sure how. JJ was bruised and barely held together.

Honestly, John B knew the feeling.

Still, standing there without touching JJ was an impossibility. He knew JJ craved physical contact, he craved affection, even if he was scared to get it and didn’t always know how to handle it. He reached down, brushing JJ’s bangs back from his forehead and resting a hand in his hair.

“See?” he said, forcing himself to smile. “I told you we’d make it, bud.”

JJ was still too heavily sedated, still too severely injured to respond. John B choked back a sob and kept smiling, sitting himself down in the chair pulled close to JJ’s bedside.

“You did the hard part, buddy,” he said, moving his hand from JJ’s hair to scoop up his limp fingers. “All you have to do now is get better, okay?”

John B tried to believe it; he tried to mean it. He tried to be an adult here, tried to find the confidence he knew he was supposed to have.

He’d always thought adulthood meant you played by your own rules. He thought you were never scared.

Maybe he was wrong about that.

He squeezed JJ’s fingers and swallowed.

Maybe he’d been wrong about a lot of things.

-o-

The ICU was a controlled ward, which meant visitors had to be limited. The others all took turns, coming and going at intervals they didn’t explain to John B and he was too weary to clock. They all seemed to understand that John B wasn’t leaving. No one said anything about it, and John B might have been grateful were he not so exhausted.

Were he not so desperate.

Were he not so terrified.

Because that was what it was, right? JJ had been terrified out there on the road, scared of the same things that had vexed him as a teenager. And John B was scared now, scared of losing someone who mattered to him.

You didn’t outgrow fear, though. Sometimes, John B thought that being an adult just made it worse. You were aware, after all. You knew just how much you had to lose.

He wasn’t going to leave, though. He wasn’t going anywhere, not until JJ was awake, not until JJ was okay.

Adults, after all, saw things through to the end.

-o-

Kiara was there most often, taking up residence on JJ’s other side. She held his hand, stroked his face, and took the time to clean him up even more than the nurses had. She was gentle, she was steady. She loved JJ, and no wonder that he loved her. She was here for the long haul.

Sarah sat with him when she came, curling up on her lap. She told John B that things were okay, that they were okay. She knew that JJ was going to be fine because JJ was always fine. And JJ would do anything for him.

Pope was quiet when he stayed, standing at the edge of the bed with nearly a clinical silence. He probably knew more than the rest of them; he’d studied anatomy in school. He was pre-med. If the reports on the monitors and the murmuring from the staff made him nervous, he was good not to show it.

Cleo was probably the most matter of fact. It was always a tossup, when he thought about it, who had had it worse as a kid. Cleo and JJ knew poverty unlike the rest of them did, and she seemed stoic about seeing JJ like that. She understood what it was to survive, though. She seemed set on the assumption that JJ did, too, so there was no reason to worry.

Of everyone, Ricky probably took it worse. He was awkward about it, like he wasn’t sure he belonged. He couldn’t take it in the end, breaking down to tears until John B got up and offered him a hug.

Ricky accepted it, sobbing into John B’s shoulder. When he pulled back, he looked too weary to be embarrassed. He looked at JJ instead. “I’m sorry, cuz,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m just so, so sorry.”

And John B knew he wasn’t talking about the accident.

Mostly, though, John B sat by himself.

Just him and JJ.

That was how it had been most of the time, when they were kids.

Some things never changed.

-o-

They came and went, taking turns and looking out for each other as best they could. Sarah suggested several times that John B take a break, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. She seemed to know better than to push it.

Because he’d been there, right? He’d seen JJ in the accident. He couldn’t leave until he saw him through to the other side. For him and JJ, staying mattered. It was the thing that made family real.

So when John B had nothing else he could give JJ, he gave him that. Only that.

He knew it would be enough for JJ.

-o-

When the nurse came in, sometime the next day, she checked JJ’s vitals with a smile, updating his chart. JJ didn’t move throughout, he was still heavily sedated, and when she looked at John B, she nodded reassuringly. “He’s looking much better.”

John B didn’t know exactly what to say to that. He hadn’t slept much. Also, he was thinking maybe Ricky was right about getting checked out. He felt like sh*t.

The nurse smiled at him anyway. “The doctor will check on him soon,” she said. “But it is time to change his bandages.”

She waited, looking at him kike she expected something.

“It’s not going to be pretty,” she said, tipping her head to the side with a little wrinkle of her nose. “You’re probably going to want to step out for a few minutes.”

That was when John B realized she was giving him an out. A momentary reprieve. A chance not to relive last night, when he’d seen JJs leg snapped in half.

The memory was still raw. It made his body go cold and numb, despite the throbbing in his ribs and head.

He looked at JJ. Since he’d gotten out of surgery, his condition was largely unchanged. He was still fully unconscious, with no sign of movement or awareness. If John B stepped out, JJ would never know.

But John B would know. That was the thing, in the end. For all that he was here for JJ, for all that everyone thought he was the one who kept JJ afloat, he was here for himself, too. JJ needed him, sure. But John B needed him just as much. The idea of leaving wasn’t just hard.

At this point, after all this time, it was damn near impossible.

“I’m good,” John B said, meeting the nurse’s gaze. He tried to smile. He tried to look certain. “I want to stay, if I can.”

She gave him a scrutinizing look, as if trying to see just how serious he was. Maybe she was assessing if he was making a coherent decision. Possibly she was doubting his judgment.

With reason. John B doubted his own judgment often.

But he was still sure about this.

“Seriously,” he said. “I’d rather stay. I don’t want him to be alone.”

She still looked skeptical.

So John B pulled out his puppy dog eyes. With his bruising and cuts, he had to think it was convincing. “Please.”

It was convincing enough apparently. She made a little noise in her throat but nodded. “Just keep back,” she said, and she arched her eyebrows at him. “And if you feel faint, keep your butt in that chair and put your head between your knees.”

The warning seemed spurious at first. But then she lifted the blanket and started to unwrap the bandage. Drugged as he was, JJ was still under her ministrations, even as she lifted his leg to unwind the gauze.

As she got to the end of it, the wound was more tightly packed, and he saw glimpses of red skin before she removed the last bandage and revealed the wound.

Suddenly, the warning wasn’t spurious at all.

The wound was red and raw. The surgeons had cut a longer gash, long and straight to the leg. The spot in the skin where the bone had broken through was garish, and the whole thing was stapled shut and weeping blood and oozing. It was horribly inflamed, and as the nurses started cleaning it, John B was extremely glad JJ was still oblivious. It looked painful. He couldn’t imagine how it felt.

Or maybe he could. He’d seen JJ’s face twisted in agony. He’d heard him scream. He’d felt the pulsing pain, so strong and overwhelming that it had taken JJ back to his worst nightmares.

“You okay?” she asked, giving John B only the most cursory glance.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Because yeah, the leg was bad.

But he’d seen JJ’s bone sticking through. He’d seen the wound unsteady and unstable.

For as bad as it was, it was healing now.

It was healing.

“If you need to step out—“ she offered again.

John B shook his head, and he was sure this time. No hesitation.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I want to stay with JJ.”

They were adults now, after all. This was what you did as an adult.

You stayed.

You faced sh*t.

You stuck things out, even when it got hard. Especially when it got hard.

You just stayed.

-o-

It was a long thing. JJ was recovering from major surgery, and every time he thought it was too long, he thought about JJ and his heart stopping in the ambulance.

And it didn’t seem so long.

It didn’t seem so bad either.

JJ was alive. JJ was stable.

John B would take it.

The others were there, and that helped pass the time. He took breaks more for their sake than his own. He hated to leave JJ, but he knew he wasn’t the only one worried about him. Adults had to recognize the needs of others outside of themselves. So sometimes John B needed to give them space too. Pope needed to sit by JJ’s bedside to assure himself that he was okay. Cleo needed to watch JJ breathe for the reassurance that her family hadn’t been taken from her. Sarah needed to sit and hold JJ’s hand because she loved him, and God knew Kiara needed to be there.

As a kid, John B had felt alone. Even with his old man around, it had usually felt like him and JJ against the world. Back then, maybe that was how it’d been with Big John dipping as often as he did and Luke being strung out or drunk more often than not. He and JJ had managed. Together, they’d carved a niche for themselves, just the two of them.

But they weren't kids now.

And they weren’t alone.

JJ had trouble remembering.

As it turned out, so did John B.

The Pogues, though, would help them figure it out.

Broken things. Bound together.

Until they healed.

-o-

At some point, John B allowed himself to be dragged from the room and back to the house for a short period of time. At least, he thought it was a short period of time. Sarah stripped him down and threw him in the shower before putting him to bed. He didn’t mean to, but he was asleep within seconds, and when he woke up several hours later, he was in a veritable panic.

Sarah assured him he was fine. She assured him that JJ was fine. And she assured him that she would drive him back to the hospital as soon as he ate something.

And also put on pants.

John B assented on both points. Getting dressed was harder than it should have been. Now that the adrenaline was entirely gone, he could barely move. The bruises across his chest were deep and painful, and it all hurt like a son of a bitch.

Eating was harder still. He was hungry – and yet not hungry at all. In the end, he managed to eat for Sarah’s benefit, and she was good to her word, getting them loaded in the car and on their way back to the hospital.

“You shouldn’t have let me sleep,” he muttered, scrolling through the messages on his phone.

“I should have made you sleep longer,” she said, starting the drive back.

“But JJ–”

“-- is fine,” she said. “He’s doing great. He’s not awake, but he’s stable. They’re thinking of upgrading him out of the ICU by the end of the day.”

John B still scowled. “But JJ–”

Sarah huffed and glared at him. “--was not the only one in a car accident,” she reminded him.

The sternness of her look wasn’t just pissy. It was concern.

He remembered then that Sarah cared about him. Right.

“I’m fine,” he supplied quickly, as if that might make her feel better.

She took a breath, eyes back on the road. “If you’d gotten looked at by a doctor, we’d know that.”

“But I’m fine,” he said again.

The look out of the side of her eye was enough to shut him up. “I get it, I do,” she said. “JJ is the priority right now. He’s hurt really bad, and he’s got a long recovery ahead of him. He’s your brother, like Kie says, so I get it.”

John B chewed his lip, not sure what to say.

Her eyes look at him more fully now, if only for a moment. ‘But he’s not the only one who scared me last night.”

“Sarah, I–”

She shook her head, eyes back on the road. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. Then, she reconsidered with a small shrug. “Except maybe not realizing that we were all worried about you too.”

“But I’m–”

She arched her brows. “Really, John B?”

He clamped his mouth shut.

Adults knew when to say their peace.

And when to shut their mouths, after all.

-o-

Fortunately, the rest of the drive was uneventful, and Sarah was back to kind and supportive by the time they arrived. He let her help him out of the car, and he didn’t act weird when she lingered closely as they walked back up to the ICU.

When they got there, he was quick to see that they weren’t alone. Pope and Cleo were in the waiting room, and it became clear that they were waiting for John B.

If only because Pope nearly tackled him in relief.

Before Cleo pulled him back with a cluck of her tongue, as if to remind him to take it easy.

Pope blinked rapidly. “Sorry,” he said, clearly jittery. He gave John B a closer look and wrinkled his nose. “You look like sh*t, man.”

Cleo rolled her eyes. “It does look painful, is all,” she amended for him. “How do you feel?’

“I mean–” he started, but Sarah nudged him. He swallowed and smiled. “Been better, honestly. I probably should have taken some painkiller before I left, but I was just really anxious to see JJ. How is he?”

This was, apparently, the right question. Pope perked up immediately. “He’s not awake, but he’s doing so much better, man,” he said. “Like, I didn’t see them dress the wound, but we got another glimpse at his chart. I saw the X-rays. He’s never going to get through airport security, like ever. It’s gnarly, man.”

“Okay,” John B said, not sure how else to respond. Pope was – well, hyper.

Talking a mile a minute. Fixed on strange details.

Cleo shook her head. “Sorry,” she said. “I only got him to sleep for an hour or two. He was too busy playing Dr. Google.”

“But then I drank, like, five cups of coffee, so I’m fine,” Pope said.

“Yeah, totally,” John B said, and things were just normal enough for him to be skeptically bemused. “You sound it, man.”

“The statistics on this type of injury and the success rate of this surgery are better than I was hoping,” Pope continued, without being asked. “Like, he could really be okay. I think he’s going to be okay.”

This was hardly the most articulate conclusion – and it was hardly anything that enhanced the doctor’s assessment – but Pope no doubt had needed to read it for himself.

That was fine; John B didn’t need to read it.

He just needed to see JJ.

He just needed to see JJ wake up.

“Have you seen him?” John B asked, more to the point.

“Just got out of there,” Cleo said. “Kiara’s still in there. So is Ricky.”

“But you can go in, man,” Pope said.

Cleo tugged gently on Pope’s arm. “I’m taking him to get some food. And some actual rest.”

“I feel fine,” Pope insisted.

“Until you crash in about an hour,” Cleo said with a shake of her head. She looked back at John B and Sarah. “He’s been steadily improving all day. The doctor seems pleased by it. So much that they’re letting us in two at a time now, just so you know.”

“That’s awesome,” Sarah said. “Thanks for hanging out, guys.”

“It’s family,” Cleo said.

“It’s JJ,” Pope added.

Cleo sighed, tugging on Pope again. “Okay, caffeine boy. Let’s get you taken care of.”

Pope allowed this, even as he protested, “But I’m fine!”

Cleo waved on her way out, Pope complaining the entire way, and John B watched them go before letting his gaze fall back on Sarah.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Well, go,” she said, almost with a touch of exasperation. “I know how anxious you are.”

“But you–”

“Can wait here,” she said. “I don’t want to ask Kie to leave, but I’ll be right here if you all need anything.”

He felt relief and gratitude – and, just everything. Tired, confused, overwhelmed, terrified – and just all of it.

It wouldn’t go away until he talked to JJ.

“Hey,” Sarah said softly, pulling him out of his thoughts. She reached up, fingers brushing his face. “It really is okay. He’s going to be okay.”

He nodded, but it felt hollow, like his body wasn’t connected to his spirit. An out of body experience, maybe, except for the grounding touch of Sarah’s hand. “I just–” he started, and the words choked off for a second as he tried to sort the thoughts in his head. “I just thought I was going to lose him.”

Her brow furrowed softly with concern. “I thought I was going to lose both of you for a second.”

Something pulled in his chest, and he leaned into her touch. He dipped his forehead down to hers, letting them touch with a sigh. “When I was a kid, I always thought I had nothing to lose,” he murmured at her, lifting his eyes just enough to look at her. “Sometimes I forget now that I have everything.”

She nodded, tears in her eyes. She smiled as she kissed him, bringing up her other hand to fully cup his face. “We all do,” she whispered back, kissing him again. “Which is why JJ’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay, JJ’s going to be okay, we’re all going to be okay.”

It was too easy to call it denial. It wasn’t enough to call it blind optimism.

Maybe that was just what belief looked like.

Adults didn’t just know things. sh*t, there were too many uncontrollable variables in life to pretend that sort of thing. But they believed.

This time, he kissed her. “Thank you,” he said. “ Just – for everything.”

She nodded, a tear leaking down her cheek even as she grinned. “Always.”

-o-

He made it to JJ’s room, knocking quietly. Before he could go in, however, the door opened.

And Ricky came out.

Ricky looked like sh*t. Tired and drawn and all of it.

He didn’t look surprised to see John B. Honestly, he looked barely functional. “You can go in,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder. “Kiara’s in there with him.”

“I know,” John B said. “You leaving?”

“Yeah,” Ricky said. “I mean. I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re family,” John B said.

Ricky grunted. “I mean, by blood. You guys, though–”

“You’re still family,” John B said. “JJ always knows he can count on you.”

He said it to be reassuring, but somehow it had the opposite effect. Ricky frowned, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “Yeah,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “I’m going go try to be anyway.”

John B didn’t know what to say to that, so he shifted awkwardly, too.

Ricky drew a breath and seemed to be settled. “When he’s awake and they start talking about discharge, you have to let me know,” he said. “Because I know the best physical therapist on the island. Not one of the ones that the doctors always recommend, but someone who will do it right.”

“Oh,” John B said. It was all he could think to say.

“You don’t want someone phoning it in or going through the motions, not when JJ’s full range of motion and stamina are on the line,” he said. “The girl I know has an aggressive program and great results. She’ll make sure JJ gets back on his feet for real – the boating and the surfing. All his favorite sh*t.”

At this, John B quirked his lips into a smile. “And smoking weed?”

Despite himself, Ricky laughed. “Well, I can’t fault him there,” he said. “I’ve got a great batch in the backyard right now.”

“Some sh*t you never outgrow,” John B agreed. “But seriously, all that sounds good. I mean, the best for JJ, right?”

Ricky nodded, resolved on this. “He deserves the chance, is all. The actual chance.”

“Well, the doctor seems on top of things,” John B offered.

“Sure, but the system? Is not always kind to Maybanks,” he said. “I know you all have gone straight. You’ve upended the expectations – but I’m not going to just let him flounder in it. I’ve spent too many years watching everyone tasked with taking care of him let him down. I’m not doing it this time.”

Where there had been regret last night, John B could sense the steeling of resolve. He didn’t know Ricky all that well, but it wasn’t hard to see that he had always liked JJ – even despite himself. He cared about him, too. “He’s not a kid anymore,” John B said. “And there’s no way in hell any of us are going to let him slip through the cracks.”

Ricky’s face went a little pale. “That’s the point, right? I’m not a kid anymore either,” he said. “All those years, Luke beating on him, being a piece of sh*t – and I shrugged like there was nothing I could do. But I’m not a kid, either. JJ and I – we can be a different generation of Maybanks. I mean, we just can.”

“I mean, it sounds good to me,” John B said. He extended a hand to Ricky. “Any family of JJ’s is family of mine.”

Ricky looked at the hand, and shook his head. He reached out and hugged John B anyway. “Thank you for saving him,” he said.

“I didn’t do sh*t,” John B said, a little surprised by the contact.

Ricky pulled away. “I’m not talking about last night,” he said.

And yeah. That made sense.

He hesitated. “Last night,” he said. “After the accident. JJ – he couldn’t remember. You know. Where he was. What he was doing. He thought he was a kid again, talking about Luke and DCS.”

Ricky bit his lip for a second, shrugging. “Disorientation after a traumatic incident isn’t uncommon,” he said. “I know the concussion he suffered isn’t the biggest concern, but it might still have caused an altered state. And with the amount of pain he was in — I mean, it’s not impossible.”

John B swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. “It was just hard,” he said. “Seeing JJ slip back to that. How scared he was.”

He smiled faintly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“How scared I think he still might be,” he admitted.

“sh*t, I’m older than all of you, and I’m still scared sh*tless,” Ricky said with a tired scoff.

“So it never gets easier?” John B asked.

“I don’t know,” Ricky said. “With the right people, maybe.”

“Right,” John B said, feeling sheepish all of a sudden. He jerked his head toward the door. “I think I’m going to–”

“Yeah,” Ricky said quickly, nodding at it as well. “You probably won’t be able to notice, but he’s doing a lot better. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wakes up soon.”

“Really?” John B asked, hopeful.

“Kiara’s in there now,” Ricky said. “She’s looking pretty spent, though.”

“I’ll try to get her to take a break,” John B said.

Ricky nodded. “I’ll give you all some space,” he said. “But I’ll be back. And, like, you can give me a call or something. And not just for weed.”

John B grinned. “Not just for weed. For JJ.”

Ricky shrugged. “For family.”

-o-

With Ricky on his way out, John B was left with the task he’d come for: to see JJ. It had been a driving need to be here, to sit at his side again. Yet, somehow, being here made him hesitant. It had been less than 24 hours since the accident, and now it all seemed strangely disconnected.

Had it really happened? Had they really crashed?

The totaled car; JJ’s mangled leg.

The fear in his face; the pain in his voice.

John B forced himself to breathe. That was all real – yes. But so was this. He was here, and JJ was alive. It was okay.

With that, he opened the door.

It was the same room and the same tableau as before, but it was like seeing it with fresh eyes. Maybe it was the rest he’d gotten; maybe it was just the perspective. But there JJ was, tucked into the hospital bed. Wires and monitors, tubes and electrodes. The bruises had deepened on his skin, too, and the bulk of his leg bandage was still easy to see beneath the blanket. His eyes were closed, but his chest was rising and falling easily, and for a second, all John B could do was stare.

In relief, maybe. In shock. In – he didn’t even know at this point.

From the bedside, Kiara looked up at him. JJ looked better – maybe – but Kiara looked worse. Her hair was starting to look greasy, and her face was drawn with absolute exhaustion.

“sh*t, Kie,” he said. “Have you even slept?”

She gave him a short, incredulous snort. “Screw you, John B,” she said, voice thick. “I couldn’t leave him.”

John B approached on the other side, and he smiled softly. “You all made me leave,” he said. “Or I’d look worse than you.”

She inclined her head, conceding that point. She wet her lips then, eyes back on JJ. “He’s doing well,” she said, but it sounded a little like she was trying to convince herself. “That’s what they keep saying, but he doesn’t look any different to me.”

He looked at JJ, too. Seeing him so still was an odd thing. It had all of them on edge, no doubt. “But he’s not worse.”

Kiara pursed her lips, looking unimpressed by that answer. She reached forward, brushing his hair back from his face with a frown and picking at some dried blood in the blonde strands. “I swear, they didn’t even try to clean him up,” she muttered. “I tried to wash him up better because whatever. He shouldn’t just have blood in his hair.”

Still fussing, she picked up a cloth by the bed and dipped it in the pitcher of water there. He watched as she cleaned at the blood, soaking it until it came clean from JJ’s blonde strands. When she was done, she leaned over and kissed him softly, smoothing back his hair one more time before she sat down with a sigh.

“He would hate knowing we were doing this,” she said, shaking her head as she glanced back at John B. “The fuss we’re making.”

“Well, he can hate it,” John B said. “As long as he wakes up soon, he can bitch and moan about anything he wants.”

Kiara smiled, but it was a fleeting thing. She settled back into stillness, her eyes back on JJ, tired and sad. “He just looks so young,” she said. “Like, he’s still a kid again.”

It wasn’t a lie. JJ had always been good at throwing up fronts so people couldn’t see the real him. It was how he’d managed to convince everyone he was some tough sh*t when all he’d ever been was a scared kid.

John B had seen last night just how thin that facade was.

And just how stubbornly JJ had clung to it.

“I mean, he’s with me every day, and we’re doing real life,” she continued, with a shake of her head. “Going to work and paying bills. Making dinner and mowing the lawn. Like we’re playing grown up. Sometimes I forget it’s an act. He just does it so damn well.”

John B nodded, watching JJ as he breathed. “Yeah, he does.”

They were quiet for a moment, both of them with their eyes on JJ. Then, Kiara asked, “Do you think he’s happy, John B?”

The question surprised him, and he looked back at Kie with a frown. “What?” he asked. “I mean – yes. Obviously. He’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him.”

“But I don’t want him acting. He shouldn’t be playing adult,” she said. “I want him to live.”

She wasn’t wrong.

But she wasn’t quite right either.

It was – well, it was complicated, wasn’t it? John B knew that better than anyone, because he knew what JJ was doing. He knew what JJ fought against, and he knew what JJ was hiding.

He knew what could break JJ wide open, the ragged splinters of his past that he couldn’t leave behind.

You had to set it. You had to screw it down.

Then, you just had to let it heal.

You could call it acting. You could call it playing.

You could also just call it trying.

“sh*t, Kie,” John B said with a helpless little shrug. “I mean, isn’t that what we’re all doing? Like, I think playing grown up is being grown up. As a kid, we think there’s some trick, some switch that we flip. But I don’t know. Maybe this is it.”

Her brow furrowed a little bit, as if she wasn’t sure what to do with that answer. “Fake it until you make it?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I mean, I guess,” he said. “Unless you’ve got a better idea?”

Kiara sighed, slumping back against the chair. “Right now, I officially have no ideas.”

“Yeah because you haven’t slept,” John B said. “You need some rest.”

She looked back at JJ, face pinched. “I can’t leave him.”

“He’s not going to be alone,” John B reminded her. “I’m staying until he wakes up.”

He could see her wavering.

“Sarah’s in the waiting room,” he said. “She can take you for some food, back home for a shower and a power nap. By the time you get back, JJ will maybe be awake.”

His argument was compelling – and also, Kiara was genuinely that tired.

“Come on,” he cajoled, sensing his opening. JJ would want him to do this – for Kiara. “If you’re going to fake it, you’re going to need your energy.”

She looked back at John B and sighed. “Fine,” she said. “But if there’s any change–”

“I will text. Immediately,” John B vowed. “And I won’t leave him alone for a second.”

She nodded, mollified by that answer. All the same, she seemed reluctant to get up. She took JJ’s hand, leaning over to kiss him again. She lingered there for another moment before she pulled away.

Hesitating, she looked at John B again. “He’s going to be okay, right?”

“You heard the doctor–”

“That’s not what I mean,” she said. She tipped her head back to JJ. “He’s going to be okay, right?”

John B nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “He is.”

Kiara looked back at him, and John B found it in him to believe.

“We all are.”

-o-

With Kiara out to get some rest, John B was left mostly on his own with JJ. He didn’t mind; the idea of making small talk while JJ was lying there unconscious was weird at best – and untenable at worst.

Still, bedside vigils were awkward things. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He didn’t want to talk to JJ; it felt intrusive to hold his hand. He wanted to offer comfort, but he also didn’t want to be a creeper.

He wasn’t sure what adults did in these situations.

Except grit their teeth and get through it.

The daytime nurses were kind and chipper, and they gave John B frequent updates about how JJ was doing. Which was, as best he could tell, the same every single time. He was doing well; his leg was healing with no sign of infection. He was going to wake up soon.

Soon, though, was clearly relative.

John B wanted soon to mean now.

But the minutes passed and JJ didn’t stir.

He fielded texts from the others, checkups from Sarah, Kie, Pope, and Cleo, before he sat back, putting his feet up on the bed. Was it too casual? John B didn’t know. But these damn hospital chairs weren’t made for this sh*t and JJ was taking his time.

That wasn’t fair; JJ had broken his leg last night. The bone had been sticking through the shin. JJ was allowed to take his time, and John B knew it.

He just – didn’t like it.

His father had always told him that patience was a virtue, but his father had also thrown his entire life away on treasure hunt after treasure hunt, so some advice was suspect. Adults like to say sh*t they didn’t mean. Probably because they knew it was the right thing.

Even if it was so damn hard.

He was dangerously close to nodding off again when something shifted. He startled awake, back to full alertness, expecting someone to be at the door. One of the nurses, maybe. Pope and Cleo back from their break. Kie and Sarah unable to stay away.

But there was no one there.

And then John B realized–

The movement was from the bed.

JJ was stirring.

No, scratch that. JJ was awake.

Blue eyes bleary and confused but 100% awake.

“JJ!” he said, dropping his feet and leaning forward. His stomach fluttered and the blood rushed to his head. “You’re awake!”

His sheer enthusiasm seemed to startle JJ right back, and he blinked a few times to look at John B. He was clearly tracking things slower than normal, as if the gears were grinding that much slower in his head. He took an unsteady breath, his entire body trembling. “John B?”

Shaky and unsure – but still clear. John B felt relief, so strong it threatened to knock him out, wash over him. “sh*t, man,” he said. “You scared the hell out of me.”

JJ’s eyes flicked around, taking in the room. His breathing hitched. “What happened?”

His voice was weak and scratchy, and his growing confusion was evident.

“You were in an accident,” John B said. He waited to see if that would jog JJ’s memory. “You hurt your leg?”

“My leg?” he asked, and he blinked hard, trying to lift his head to look down the length of his body. The bulky bandage was visible under the blankets. “What’s wrong with my leg?”

JJ would need the full story eventually – but he was pretty sure it shouldn’t be him who told him. Mostly because all he could think to say was that JJ’s leg had been snapped in half, and he was very sure that was exactly not the thing JJ needed to hear right now. Pope could talk about open fractures, and Kiara could sit there and assure him he was going to walk, he was going to surf, he was going to be fine.

“Your leg is going to be fine,” he said instead, finding it to be the simplest version of the truth either of them could deal with.

At least, that was what he thought.

As it turned out, JJ’s level of coherency was quite as strong as he’d been counting on now that he was stable.

Because instead of reassurance.

JJ’s disposition reverted to the same panic from back on the side of the road. Eyes wide and breathing short, JJ gave gasped the next words, “But my dad—“

John B felt his heart sink. He’d hoped once the shock had worn off, JJ would come back to the present. Clearly he has underestimated the lingering effects of the accident, pain, and trauma. Not to mention the drugs still coursing through his system.

“He’s going to be so mad,” he said, shaking his head. “I need to get out of here.”

He reached down, clawing weakly at the IV.

His chest hitched with obvious desperation. “Help me get out of here—“

“Whoa, JJ,” he said, moving to the bed and grabbing his hand while gently pressing JJ back against the bed. “Your dad’s not here, remember?”

“He’ll be back to get me, and he’s going to be pissed,” JJ said, verging on tears. “I can’t—“

He held on a little tighter, willing JJ to listen. “He split, remember? He went to the Yucatán. He’s not coming back, J. He’s not coming back.”

Reinforcing that his dad had abandoned him wasn’t usually John B’s go to. JJ’s abandonment issues ran deep. But his panic was more pressing. He had to get JJ back to the present to deal with any of this.

JJ seemed to freeze, staring at him with wide, blue eyes. His breath caught and then he exhaled, his entire countenance trembling beneath John B.

“He’s gone?” he asked, voice impossibly small.

“He’s gone,” he promised.

JJ shuddered. “And DCS?”

“You’re 21, JJ,” he said as steadily as ever. “It’s just us now, remember? It’s just us.”

JJ was inclined to believe John B as a default, but he struggled with it here. The emotion was just too strong. It was hard to contend with, that somewhere deep inside JJ, he was crippled by fear.

Like a broken bone breaking through the skin, exposing the break for the whole world to see.

So John B held fast.

Because JJ needed him.

Because John B needed JJ.

Because they needed each other to ground themselves in this thing called adulthood after all.

He watched JJ struggle with it, grappling against the crippling doubt and insecurity, before he inhaled. Shaky and unsteady, his voice still had the uncharacteristic wobble when he spoke. “I’m not a kid anymore?”

“No, JJ,” he said, not releasing his grip yet. “We’re adults now. We’re adults.”

He held fast until he saw the understanding take hold, small and unsure at first, before it settled over JJ completely. He looked blank; then he looked scared.

He looked confused.

And then, with a rush and a flush of red up his cheeks, he just looked mortified.

“We were coming home from work,” he said, as if he was just now putting the memories together. “I run the charter. You own a surf shop.”

He kept his grip steady as he let JJ put the rest of the details in place.

“My dad hasn’t been on the OBX for years,” he said, and the realization made him shrink. “He’s not here. He’s not here, John B.”

There was something desperate in the realization, something John B wasn’t expecting. It was bad enough that JJ was still scared of his dad.

The idea that part of JJ still missed him—

Well, he didn’t want to think about that.

JJ looked down, peering around John B to the bulky bandage around his leg. “I screwed up my leg bad, didn’t I?”

Okay, John B didn’t want to think about that either, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “I told you,” he said, easing his grip slightly, but not trusting himself to let go entirely. “Your leg is going to be fine. Full recovery.”

JJ blinked at him, but this time it seemed to stick. He nodded, and John B finally felt confident enough to let go.

“You were pretty messed up there for a while,” he said, choosing not to tell JJ about the way his heart had stopped in the ambulance. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

He settled himself back in the chair. “So I’m not surprised your head is a little scrambled,” he said. “You were in a lot of pain.”

JJ nodded, brow creasing for a moment. “It felt like something had ripped my leg off,” he said, and he looked at his leg with a frown again. “I really did cry like I was still 16, didn’t I?”

John B wasn’t sure if he should smile at that. It was a relief that JJ remember that, that he was coherent enough to say it.

But he didn’t really want to relive it either.

Broken fractures had to be set, though? To make sure they healed properly?

Bones. Hearts. All of it.

“I was there, man,” he said. He hadn’t intended to tell him, but now he couldn’t stop himself. JJ wasn’t the only one here who had impulsivity issues. “You snapped your leg in two. You get a pass, okay?”

It was a kind of absolution, even though there was nothing to forgive. JJ needed it, though, so John B would give it. Really, he’d give JJ anything.

It took another few seconds for the panic to recede from JJ’s eyes, and longer still before the anxiety in his body relaxed enough for John B to let himself relax.

JJ, for his part, seemed to focus on his breathing. As he solidified his bearings, he licked his lips.

“sh*t,” he said, sinking down a little deeper into the pillow. His hand lifted slightly off the bed, but he seemed to lack the energy to do anything more with it. “Guess I’m not as grown up as I think.”

The self-deprecation was a common coping mechanism for JJ. When he couldn’t joke or piss it off, he would make fun of himself to make it go away.

It worked around most people.

Sometimes, John B let it work for him, too.

But not this time.

“JJ, growing up doesn’t mean you outgrow your sh*t,” he said. “You’re doing fine.”

JJ trembled a little – clearly nervous. Clearly in pain. He wet his lips again, almost desperately as he tried to get himself together. “But I’m not a kid,” he said. “And here I am, still getting scared of my dad.”

It was true; it was a lot, too. John B had let himself think it wasn’t still an issue. He’d let himself think that now that Luke was gone, now that JJ had autonomy and freedom and money, that it wasn’t an issue. He’d not let himself consider how you couldn’t outgrow trauma.

JJ was still JJ. Hiding sh*t from the rest of them.

When they were kids, John B had seen through it.

But he’d missed it this time. JJ shouldn’t have to break physically for him to realize he was still broken on the inside, too. Screws could put JJ’s leg back together. As friends, they were going to have to do a lot more than that to put JJ’s heart back together.

“Look, growing up isn’t like that. It’s not that sh*t doesn’t affect you. It’s that you can finally acknowledge it, you can talk about it,” he said. He lifted one shoulder, shrugging with a kind of helpless inevitability. “It’s okay not to be okay.”

JJ’s cheeks reddened as the words hit home. He shifted uncomfortably and had trouble meeting John B’s gaze. “You sound like Kiara.”

He tipped his head to the side, almost as a concession. “She did kind of grow up before either one of us.”

JJ huffed lightly with a laugh, even though he was still clearly working on getting his emotions back in check. “I’m just scared, I guess,” he admitted, almost tentatively. “That everyone else has this sh*t figured out. So I keep pretending.”

He almost wanted to laugh. His chest tightened painfully as his own admission laid him bare. “JJ, I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t think any of us do.”

The truth was raw between them, and it felt like a bone poking through the skin. Too jagged to ignore. Too hard to set in place again.

There was no way around it. Fixing it was hard. Fixing it threatened to kill them. It stole their breath, knocked them on their asses, and even when it was done, they were patched together and healing.

The prognosis was good, though.

It was really good.

“And don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?” John B cajoled, even more gently now. “Especially when you’re still recovering from major surgery.”

JJ blinked at him, clearly starting to struggle to track the words. He was slipping, as the exhaustion crept up on him.

“We can talk about it later,” he said, because JJ needed to rest. In more ways than one. “Your leg. Your recovery. The accident. All of it.”

JJ nodded faintly, his eyes blinking slower still. He seemed to fight against it for another moment. “Bree?”

He sat forward, making sure JJ could see him. “Yeah, buddy?”

“Are we—“ he started, slurring a little now. “Are we going to be okay?”

“They said you’d be back to boating and surfing in no time,” he said, offering up the most optimistic version of JJ’s prognosis. “Your leg is pretty gnarly, but it’s going to heal fine.”

He drew a breath, the effort obvious as he made his eyes stay open. “That’s not what I mean.”

John B swallowed hard, and he found it in himself, that strength, that determination. He’d told JJ that being a grown up didn’t mean that you weren’t scared. It meant you acknowledged the fear. It meant that you faced it and just kept going.

“Yeah, JJ,” he said. “We’re going to be okay.”

JJ’s eyes were watery, and his countenance trembled a little. He took a breath and tried to steady himself, but he didn’t quite pull it off. “You sure?” he asked, voice cracking badly.

He sounded so young again, so painfully young. It was all John B could do to keep himself together, to take up JJ’s hand and hold it. “I’m positive.”

“What if I can’t?” JJ asked, voice so thin that he could barely hear it. “Be okay.”

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to do it alone,” he said. “We’ve done it together all this time. Why should that change now, just because we’re adults?”

It was the reassurance JJ needed.

Hell, it was the reassurance John B needed.

Adulthood was the best, after all. It was also the worst. There was no way of knowing when life would send them flying. There was no way to stop things from breaking in half.

But if they faced it together, they would be okay.

They had to be okay.

“Thanks, Bree,” JJ said, voice no more than a whisper now. He exhaled tiredly. “Thanks for being here.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d be,” he said honestly. “Thank you for not leaving.”

JJ seemed to be slipping now, the pull of exhaustion proving a bit too much for him to fight. John B settled himself back down, laying JJ’s hand back on the bed and patting it gently.

“But just for the record,” he quipped. “Next time we carpool, you’re driving.”

JJ laughed despite himself, chuckling thickly as sleep became too much to fight. “Next time, we’re walking,” he joked back, eyes settling closed. “Adulthood be damned.”

He laughed gently, watching as JJ’s breathing evened out once more. He couldn’t stop himself from lifting a hand to rest on JJ’s head, just until he was sure sleep had taken him for good.

Adulthood might be overrated.

Childhood was definitely not all that it was cracked up to be.

But best friends? Family by choice?

That was the stuff that didn’t break, that was the stuff you didn’t outgrow.

That was the stuff that lasted a lifetime.