「 ✦ FUNERALS ✦ 」

────

WEEKS HAD PASSED since that day at the NA meeting. MJ, Rafe, and everyone else had started to settle into a new rhythm, one that was still fragile but getting stronger every day. For MJ, it felt like quiet healing was starting to take place, but she couldn't shake the ache of losing John B, of how their group had fractured. The quiet loss lingered, even when the days felt lighter.

It was a warm afternoon when MJ found herself on the docks with Kie, Pope, and JJ. They'd gathered there like they used to, hanging out by the water and reminiscing about simpler days. The world was different now. No more chaos, no more police chases, no more life-or-death stakes—at least, not like before.

"Man, remember when we used to spend hours out here, just talking about stupid stuff?" JJ said, his voice a little distant as he gazed out over the water. "Like how we were gonna get rich or figure out how to run the Outer Banks without the Kooks getting in our way. Feels like another lifetime."

Pope chuckled, but it was soft, almost sad. "Yeah. Things seemed a lot simpler back then. We didn't know the real shit that was waiting for us. We had John B with us, too."

There was a quiet pause. No one knew what to say. The absence of their best friend was a void they were all still trying to fill, even if it wasn't something they could just fix.

"I miss him," Kie murmured, her voice breaking the silence. "I know we're all still here, but it's not the same without him."

JJ gave a small nod, his usual bravado muted by the heavy weight of loss. "Yeah. It's not. But we'll make sure we never forget him. That's the one thing we can do."

The words hung in the air, and MJ, who had been standing quietly to the side, felt a familiar ache in her chest. John B had been more than a friend. He'd been the one who always brought everyone together, the glue that held the five of them tight. He had been the leader in their small, tight-knit group. Now, the remaining four of them felt a little more scattered, a little more lost.

MJ pulled a small needle and ink from the pocket of her hoodie, the same makeshift tattoo kit she'd carried with her for months, ever since her first days in rehab when she'd wanted to prove she could handle the tough stuff on her own. It wasn't the first time she'd used it—it was a means of release, a way to remember the people who mattered, to make something permanent in her life. She paused for a moment, glancing down at the kit before looking up at the three of them.

"Hey, how about we get matching tattoos?" she suggested, a small but genuine grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

JJ raised an eyebrow. "Matching tattoos? You mean like... what, one of those 'Best Friends Forever' things?"

Kie laughed but then paused as she saw the serious look on MJ's face. "What do you mean?"

MJ lifted the needle and ink, looking at the three of them with something softer in her eyes than usual. "I was thinking something for John B. You know, a reminder of how we were, of how much he meant to all of us. Something that'll make sure we always remember him, no matter what happens."

Pope's eyes softened as he processed what MJ was saying. "What do you have in mind?"

MJ smiled faintly. "P4L," she said, using the shorthand for "Pogues For Life," the phrase they'd all joked about when things were easier—before everything had gotten so complicated. "We all know what that meant. John B would've wanted it, too. For all of us to stick together. To always remember that we're a family."

Kie's eyes went wide for a moment before she nodded slowly, the weight of the idea settling in her chest. "P4L... Yeah, I like that. Let's do it."

JJ grinned, a mixture of disbelief and excitement in his eyes. "You sure about this? You know, once it's on, it's on. No going back."

"Trust me, I'm sure," MJ said, her voice steady. "I've already done a couple for myself, but this one—this one's for all of us. For John B. For us being together, no matter what's happened or what's going to happen."

Pope gave a small nod, then shrugged. "Why not? We've been through hell and back together. Might as well have something to show for it."

So, right there, on the docks where they had all spent so much time as kids, they made a pact without needing to say more. The tattoos wouldn't just be ink on the skin—they were a symbol of the bond they shared. Of everything they'd been through.

MJ set to work, carefully and precisely, the needle moving across each of their skin with a steady hand. They laughed, teased, and remembered. It was their way of keeping John B close, of holding on to something they could never let go of, even as they all moved forward.

When it was done, they stood together, looking at the small, matching tattoos on their wrists. It was a tiny mark, but it was theirs—a permanent part of their history. P4L. Always.

And even though it wasn't the same, it felt like they had something solid to hold on to. Something real. Something that would keep them together, no matter how much time had passed, or how far they'd gone. The five of them—always together, even when life threatened to pull them apart.

 ────

It was the day of Sheriff Peterkins' funeral, and the air felt thick with tension. MJ hadn't wanted to go. She felt suffocated by the idea of facing everyone, the guilt, the weight of what had happened. She could already hear the whispers—see the accusing looks. She wasn't sure if she could stand it. The truth she hadn't yet confessed, the secret she was hiding about the sheriff's death—about what she had done—felt like it was choking her from the inside out.

JJ, standing beside her in the quiet hallway, was confused. He didn't know the full truth. He had no idea that MJ was the one who had shot Sheriff Peterkins, the one who had pulled the trigger in the heat of the moment. All he knew was that it had been a chaotic night, that it had all gone wrong. And he just wanted MJ to be okay.

"You're not gonna bail, right?" JJ asked softly, his voice strained with the concern that he never fully expressed. His hand rested lightly on her shoulder. "We can get through this together, Maybank. We'll make it through, okay? It's just a funeral. It's not like you're gonna be the one in the spotlight, not like you're gonna be the one they blame."

MJ barely looked at him, her throat tight. Her fingers twitched, wanting to do something—anything—to push the thoughts of the past few days away. "I don't know if I can, JJ. I feel like everything's just... too much right now."

"Hey, you've made it this far. You can get through this too," he said, giving her a comforting squeeze. "Just breathe, alright? It's gonna be fine. We'll be fine." His voice was steady, but there was an edge of uncertainty beneath it, the worry of someone who didn't fully understand what MJ was going through. But he was trying. He always tried.

She nodded slowly, but her heart was heavy with the truth that hung between them—what she couldn't tell him. As they arrived at the funeral, the crowd gathered in quiet reverence for Sheriff Peterkins. Friends, family, and law enforcement all dressed in sombre black. But MJ couldn't shake the sense of suffocation. She didn't feel like she belonged there. Not anymore. Not after everything that had happened.

As they took their seats among the others, the funeral service started, but MJ's thoughts were a million miles away. She couldn't focus on the words, the prayers, the eulogies. She could barely hear the preacher's voice over the rush of blood in her ears. Her mind kept drifting to the night of the sheriff's death, the image of her falling, the blood staining her hands—the feeling of the trigger under her fingers.

A familiar itch burned inside her chest, a gnawing need that she had worked so hard to keep at bay. Drugs. The craving that always threatened to take her down. It was louder now, ringing in her ears like a siren.

She fought it. She fought it hard, but it felt like an impossible battle. The urge to numb the pain, to forget the weight of everything—of Sheriff Peterkins' death, of her guilt, of the mess she was in—was almost overwhelming.

Unable to sit still any longer, she stood and made her way out of the chapel. She needed air. She needed to clear her head. But as she stepped outside, her heart racing with the fight against her thoughts, she wasn't alone for long.

Rafe was there.

He didn't ask questions. He didn't need to. He saw the struggle in her eyes the moment he stepped out onto the steps of the church, watching her pace back and forth, her hands shaking as she tried to steady her breath.

"You alright?" Rafe asked quietly, his voice like a soft anchor in the storm that was brewing inside her.

MJ didn't answer at first. She couldn't. Instead, she stared out at the parking lot, her fists clenched at her sides, trying to hold it all together. But the pressure was unbearable.

"I just... I don't want to go back in there," she whispered, barely above a breath. "I can't do it, Rafe. I feel like I'm gonna explode."

Rafe moved closer, his presence solid and unwavering. "You don't have to go back in if you don't want to, you know that, right?"

She shook her head, fighting the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes. "I have to, though. It's the right thing to do. Everyone will think I don't care if I don't go back. But I can't breathe. I can't do it." Her voice cracked as she admitted it.

Rafe didn't say anything for a moment. He just stood there, watching her, understanding without needing to hear the words. He stepped closer, closer than before, and placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

"Then let me help you," he said softly, his voice quiet but firm. "You don't have to carry this alone, not anymore."

She looked at him, her chest tightening as she fought against the swell of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

"I shot her, Rafe," she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. "I killed her. I... I didn't mean to, but I did. I shot her."

Rafe's expression softened. His jaw tightened, but his eyes stayed steady, and calm. "I know. I know you didn't mean it. And I know you've been carrying this weight around, but we're gonna get through it. Together. And if you need me to take the fall for it, I will. I'll do it. I'll say it was all me. I'll say I pulled the trigger both times."

MJ stared at him, a knot forming in her throat as she tried to process what he was saying. "You can't. You can't do that, Rafe. It's my mistake."

"I know it's yours," he said, his voice unwavering. "But if it means you don't have to carry it anymore if it means you can finally breathe, I'll take it. For you. Because I—" He hesitated, then continued, his voice a little more vulnerable. "I care about you, MJ. And I'll do anything to keep you from falling apart."

For a moment, all MJ could do was look at him, her mind racing, the weight of the situation almost too much to bear. She hadn't expected this—didn't know how to handle it—but part of her felt relief at hearing those words, at knowing that she wasn't entirely alone.

But the reality was still there. She had to face what she had done. She had to take responsibility, even if it felt impossible.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Rafe gave her a soft, reassuring smile. "Anytime, Maybank. Anytime."

Kie and Pope stepped outside together, both of them trying to escape the heavy atmosphere of the funeral for a few minutes. They needed a break from the suffocating grief, the reminder of everything they'd lost. But when Kie looked up and saw Rafe and MJ standing there on the steps, her heart sank. Her eyes locked onto Rafe first, then quickly darted to MJ.

The scene was too much for Kie to ignore.

"Kie, let's just—" Pope started to say, but Kie cut him off, her voice sharp and filled with tension.

"Stay here, Pope," she snapped, already walking toward MJ and Rafe.

MJ's stomach twisted as Kie approached, her expression immediately hardening. She'd been trying to ignore the tension between herself and Kie since Rafe had shown up in her life again, but Kie's glare only made her feel more uncomfortable.

Kie stopped a few feet away, eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you doing, MJ?" she demanded, her voice like ice.

MJ didn't respond right away, unsure how to explain the complicated mess she was in. She didn't need to make things worse by adding more fuel to Kie's fire, but Rafe stepped forward, his posture tense as he looked between the two girls.

"She's just trying to help me," Rafe said, his tone defensive, but there was a cold edge to it. He'd never had the best relationship with Kie, and the animosity between them had only deepened since everything had gone down.

Kie shot him a glare that could have frozen him in his tracks. "Help you?" she scoffed, her voice rising. "By being here, trying to act like everything's okay? You're a damn cop killer, Rafe. You're the reason Sheriff Peterkins is dead. And now you're dragging MJ down with you?"

MJ flinched at Kie's words, a sharp sting of guilt slicing through her chest. She didn't know what to say—because, in some ways, Kie wasn't entirely wrong. She had been involved in what happened to the sheriff. She hadn't pulled the trigger, but she couldn't escape the fact that she was there. She had been part of it.

Kie's eyes burned into her like she was waiting for MJ to defend herself. "You need to stay the hell away from him," Kie continued her voice now dangerously low. "He doesn't care about you, MJ. Do you think he does? He's just using you to cover his ass. Do you think he's here because he cares? He's a killer, and he's only trying to drag you down with him."

Rafe stepped forward, clearly agitated now. "Kie, that's enough," he warned, his voice sharp.

But Kie wasn't backing down. She turned on him, her anger boiling over. "You think I'm just going to stand here while you try to manipulate MJ into thinking you're some kind of good guy? She's been through enough without you messing with her head!"

MJ looked between them, torn. She didn't know what to think, what to feel. Part of her wanted to walk away from both of them, to find some way to escape the tension between them.

"I'm not a cop killer," Rafe muttered, but it was more to himself than to Kie. "I'm just trying to make things right."

"You're not making anything right," Kie shot back, her voice steady, but there was a crack of frustration in it. "You're just trying to make yourself feel better, and you don't even realize how much damage you've caused. Do you think MJ doesn't deserve better than this? Then you?"

MJ's heart pounded in her chest. She couldn't handle this. She couldn't bear the way Kie was looking at her, the accusations in her eyes. It wasn't just Kie who was angry with her—she was angry with herself. She knew Kie cared. Kie wanted to protect her. But how could she expect her to understand when she couldn't even understand herself?

"Kie, stop it," MJ said quietly, her voice barely audible. "Please. I'm not... I'm not who you think I am. I just... I need some space right now. I need to breathe."

Kie's expression faltered for a moment, but only a moment. "No, MJ. You don't get it," she said, her voice rough now. "You're not going to breathe if you keep walking this path. Rafe's not the answer. He's the problem. And I'm not going to stand by while you get dragged down by him."

Rafe didn't say anything in response. He didn't need to. He knew this wasn't over, that the storm between them wasn't anywhere close to calming down. But there was nothing he could do to make Kie understand.

Kie gave one last look at MJ, a mix of anger and disappointment in her eyes, and turned away, storming off toward Pope.

MJ stood there, her body tense, heart racing. She didn't know what to say to Rafe, or to herself for that matter. Kie's words echoed in her mind, cutting deep. She felt torn—torn between the people who wanted to help her, the people who were pulling her in different directions, and her own feelings of guilt and confusion.

She let out a shaky breath and turned to walk away, needing to be alone.

But Rafe didn't move.

"You don't have to do this alone," he called after her, his voice softer now, though still urgent.

She didn't turn around. She couldn't. But she knew Rafe's words were meant to stay with her, whether she liked it or not.

"Just think about it," he added quietly. "I'm here, no matter what."

And as MJ walked away, Kie's angry words still stinging in her ears, she couldn't help but wonder if Rafe was right—or if he was just another mistake she was about to make.

MJ's steps were heavy as she walked away from the funeral, her mind still racing with everything that had happened. She felt like the weight of the world had just piled on her shoulders. "I'm done with funerals," she muttered under her breath, mostly to herself.

Kie caught up to her, her expression still tight with frustration. "You're not done with this one, though," Kie snapped, her voice cutting through the air. "You need to go to Zaza's funeral, MJ. If you don't, people are going to keep thinking you had something to do with it. The rumours are already out there, and you don't need to give them more ammunition."

MJ didn't want to hear it. She had already been through enough, dealing with everything surrounding Zaza's death and the way people had turned against her. She couldn't take another funeral, another round of people questioning her, accusing her of things she didn't do. But Kie was right. If she didn't go, if she didn't show her face, the whispers would never stop.

"I don't care," MJ said, her voice flat. "I'm not going. I'm not going to pretend like everything's fine just so people can look at me and feel better about what they think happened."

Kie's eyes softened for a second, but only for a second. "You don't get it. If you don't go, if you don't show up, it'll look even worse. People will think you're guilty, and then you'll never get the chance to clear your name. And you need to clear your name, MJ."

There was a long silence between them, and the only sound was the faint murmur of voices from the funeral behind them.

Pope, who had been listening in on the conversation, finally spoke up. "She's right," he said quietly. "You've gotta show up. I know it's hard, but if you don't, it'll just make everything worse."

"I don't care what anyone thinks," MJ repeated, but even she knew the words didn't hold the same conviction they used to. Deep down, she knew Kie and Pope were right. She couldn't just let people think she was guilty without even trying to fix it. "Fine. I'll go. But I'm not making this easy for anyone."

Kie gave her a nod of approval, though there was still a cloud of concern hanging over her. "You just gotta keep your head straight. Don't give anyone a reason to think you're guilty."

Pope cleared his throat, then added, "And there's something else you need to think about. Kenyon's being released. His alibi checks out, so he's not connected to Zaza's death after all. But that means he's gonna be coming for you, MJ."

MJ felt her stomach drop at the mention of Kenyon's name. She'd tried to push thoughts of him out of her mind since the incident, but the reality of his return hit her like a punch to the gut. Kenyon had always been dangerous, and unpredictable. And now that he was free, she had no doubt he'd be coming after her.

"What do you mean, coming for me?" MJ asked, the edge of panic creeping into her voice.

Pope's face was grim as he looked at her. "He thinks you know something about what happened to Zaza. The only reason he didn't turn on you before was because of the whole mess with the cops and everything else. But now he's out, and he's probably pissed. You need to be careful, MJ. He might try to make you the scapegoat, or worse."

Kie stepped closer, her expression a mix of concern and determination. "We'll keep an eye out for you, but you need to be prepared. If Kenyon's coming after you, it's not going to be pretty."

MJ nodded the weight of everything pressing in on her. She had barely gotten through the hell of the last few days, and now she had to face the fallout of Zaza's death, the rumours, and the threat of Kenyon.

"I'll be careful," MJ said, but the fear that lingered behind her words was unmistakable. She didn't know how she was going to make it through this, but one thing was for sure—she was going to have to face it all. No more running.

Kie gave her a tight-lipped smile, trying to reassure her. "You've got this. Just stick with us, alright?"

Pope nodded, stepping in beside her. "We'll figure it out, MJ. Just don't let Kenyon get the upper hand."

As they walked toward the car, MJ couldn't shake the feeling that everything was closing in on her. She didn't know what would happen next—what Kenyon would do, what people would think of her after the funeral—but for the first time in a long time, she felt like she didn't have a choice. She was in too deep now. There was no way out but forward.

────

MJ Maybank stood behind the counter at the Island Inn, a half-smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she wiped down the counter for what felt like the hundredth time. The noise of the Kooks and Pogues in the room blended into the usual hum, but today, everything felt different. More tense. Especially when her eyes landed on her twin, JJ, serving a table full of Kooks.

He looked right past her as if she wasn't even there. It wasn't surprising, but damn, it still hurt.

Her fingers tightened around the rag she was holding. She wasn't in the mood for this today.

JJ made eye contact with her for a second, but when she gave him a small, tired smile, he turned away without a word. It was like she didn't even exist.

"Great," she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. "Guess I'm invisible now."

She slammed the rag down onto the counter, taking a deep breath to push back the annoyance building inside of her. Of course, this was the day the tension was too much to ignore.

Austin, one of the Kooks, was sitting at a table nearby, and as if on cue, she opened her mouth. "At least John B got what was coming to him," she said with a tone that made MJ's blood run cold. "Saved them the cost of a trial, right?"

MJ didn't even bother glancing at her. "Right, because who needs a trial when you've got John B to blame for everything, right?" she muttered, voice laced with sarcasm. "Good for the Kooks, huh?"

Topper, who was also sitting with Austin, quickly jumped in. "Guys, they're still investigating. We don't know everything yet," he said, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction, though his tone was uncomfortable.

Austin just scoffed. "Yeah, well, it's obvious who did it," she said, looking at MJ with a cold, judging gaze.

MJ rolled her eyes and shook her head, not even bothering to respond. She wasn't in the mood for a lecture from someone who didn't know a damn thing about the situation.

"Exactly," Kelce added, his voice dripping with his usual smugness. "It's always the Kooks' fault, right?"

MJ's patience snapped. "Of course, it's always our fault. You guys never do anything wrong, huh?" she said, her voice dripping with disdain.

She was so fed up, and she didn't care anymore. Her eyes locked on JJ, who was still working the room, moving between tables like nothing was wrong. It pissed her off to see him so unaffected like everything was just fine when it wasn't.

She walked up to him, standing in front of him with her arms crossed. "JJ," she said firmly, trying to get his attention. "Just walk away."

But he didn't. Instead, JJ just looked at her for a long moment before shoving past her, heading straight for Topper and the rest of the Kooks at the table.

She tried to push him back. "JJ, come on, don't do this."

But he shoved her hand off him, snapping at her. "Not now Rosemary," he spat, his voice laced with anger.

MJ's jaw clenched. She hadn't expected him to blow her off so easily, but the sting of it hit harder than she would've liked to admit.

As if it wasn't enough, Kelce, one of the Kooks, threw in his two cents. "Careful don't piss her off, she might kill you also."

"Shut up, Kelce," MJ snapped back, her eyes flashing with frustration. She could feel the tension building like something was about to snap.

JJ, apparently fed up with everything, grabbed a fork and a glass of water, clinking them together with a loud noise. "Can I have everybody's attention, please?" he shouted, his voice cutting through the buzz of the room.

MJ sighed heavily, rolling her eyes again. She didn't have time for this, but she was already stuck in it.

"I have an announcement to make," JJ said, his eyes scanning the room. He shot MJ a quick look, but she didn't react.

"My best friend, John B, did not kill Sheriff Peterkin," JJ continued, his voice getting louder, full of emotion.

MJ froze, her stomach dropping. She hadn't expected this. She wasn't sure what she expected, but it wasn't this.

"Rafe Cameron killed her," JJ said with conviction, his eyes burning with anger. "That's what happened."

Kelce scoffed, and MJ could see him glancing her way, probably wondering what she was thinking. But she didn't move, didn't even flinch. She stayed still, focusing on JJ, her heart pounding in her chest.

"You think that?" Kelce shot back, stepping up to JJ, and challenging him. "You really think it's always the Kooks' fault?"

MJ couldn't help herself. She scoffed again, shaking her head. The Kooks would never get it. The Pogues were always the ones blamed for everything.

She started to step forward to separate them before it could escalate, but before she could even move, JJ pushed her away. "Get off me," he yelled, his voice harsh.

She stumbled back, feeling the sting of his words. "JJ," she whispered, but he didn't even acknowledge her. Instead, he squared off with Kelce, looking ready to fight.

"Guys, stop," she said weakly, her voice barely cutting through the tension. But it was no use.

JJ swung, and everything seemed to happen in slow motion. His fist connected with Silas's nose with a sickening crack, and MJ's breath caught in her throat.

"JJ!" she yelled, but he didn't stop. Instead, he tore off his apron and threw it at her.

"I'm fired," he muttered, storming off, leaving her staring at the chaos he had just caused.

MJ stood frozen, her hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The aftermath of JJ's outburst still hung heavy in the air, but she forced herself to keep her head high as the Kooks whispered and muttered, their voices carrying just enough for her to hear.

"Figures," Topper said, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. "Like brother, like sister. Both Maybanks completely unhinged."

Kelce chuckled darkly, tilting his head toward MJ with a smug grin. "Hey, Maybank, you good over there? Need a fix or something? I'm sure one of us could spot you a little something. You know, if you're willing to... earn it." He made an obscene gesture, drawing laughter from the table.

The insinuation hit MJ like a slap to the face. Her blood boiled, and she slammed her rag down onto the counter, storming over to their table. "Say that again," she snapped, her voice sharp and cutting through the laughter. "Go on, Kelce. Say it again, I dare you."

Kelce leaned back lazily in his chair, completely unbothered by her anger. "What? Just saying what everyone's already thinking." He smirked, glancing at Topper and the others for backup. "You're out here all cleaned up now, but let's not act like you didn't spend the better part of last year trading favours for a hit. Or is that too close to home, Maybank?"

MJ's jaw tightened, her nails digging into her palms as she fought the urge to lose it. "You don't know a damn thing about me," she growled. "You wouldn't last a day in my shoes, you spoiled little—"

"Chill out, Maybank," Kelce interrupted, his grin growing wider. "I mean, it's not like I'm the only one who noticed. Zaza sure did. Isn't that what she saw before you left her for dead?" His tone dripped with mock concern, but his words hit their mark.

The room seemed to go silent. MJ froze, her heart hammering in her chest as the mention of Zaza's name hung in the air like a storm cloud.

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about," she spat, but her voice cracked, betraying the emotions she was trying to hold back.

Kelce leaned forward, his smirk turning into something darker. "Don't I? Word is Zaza caught you red-handed that night. You and Kenyon. Maybe if you'd kept it together, she wouldn't have ended up—"

MJ didn't even let him finish. Her hand shot out, grabbing the glass of water on the table and hurling it at Kelce's face. It shattered on impact, water splashing over him as he jumped back in shock.

"Say her name again," MJ hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "I dare you."

Kelce stood, wiping his face with a sneer. "Touchy, huh? Wonder why that is. Guilty conscience?"

Topper laughed nervously, clearly enjoying the show but not wanting to get involved. The others at the table exchanged glances, their smirks faltering as they realized just how close MJ was to snapping.

"You're done," MJ said, pointing a trembling finger at Kelce. "Get the hell out of here before I make you regret it."

Kelce opened his mouth to retort, but before he could say anything, Raz, the manager, stormed over, his face red with anger. "What the hell is going on here?" he barked, looking between MJ and the Kooks.

MJ didn't even bother explaining. She grabbed the apron she'd tossed on the counter earlier and threw it over her shoulder. "I'm taking my break," she muttered, brushing past Raz and out the back door before anyone could stop her.

Once outside, she leaned against the wall, sucking in deep breaths to calm herself. Her hands were still shaking, her mind racing with Kelce's words. No matter how much she tried to tell herself he didn't know the truth, the guilt she carried clawed its way to the surface, threatening to drown her.

She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, willing herself to keep it together. She wouldn't let them break her—not Kelce, Topper, or anyone.

MJ's phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking the silence of the cool night air as she leaned against the wall of the inn, her breathing still ragged from the confrontation inside. She fished it out with trembling hands, her pulse quickening as she saw the name on the screen.

Rafe.

She hesitated for a moment, debating whether to even open the text. Her thumb hovered over the notification before she finally gave in, her curiosity outweighing her frustration with everything else in her life.

The message read:

"Kenyon just got released. Be careful. He's probably looking for you. Call me if you need anything. I'm always here for you, MJ."

Her jaw tightened as she read the words. Just the mention of Kenyon's name sent a chill down her spine. She hadn't forgotten the way his cold stare bore into her the last time they crossed paths, or the threats he'd made before everything spiralled out of control. Now he was out, and if what Rafe said was true, it wouldn't take him long to come for her.

Her phone buzzed again, and another message popped up.

"MJ, I love you. Everything I've done... it's always been for you."

MJ blinked at the screen, her heart skipping a beat. She reread the message, trying to process the weight of his words. Love? That wasn't something she ever expected to hear from Rafe Cameron, of all people. Sure, he'd bailed her out, protected her when he didn't have to, but love? She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.

Of course, it was for her. The shooting, the cover-up, the lies—everything he'd done only made her life messier, not safer. But a small part of her, buried deep beneath layers of mistrust and anger, couldn't help but wonder if he meant it. If Rafe genuinely believed he was doing this for her, not just to save himself.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, debating how—or if—she should respond. She didn't want to encourage him, not when her life was already so complicated. But at the same time, she couldn't just ignore the warning about Kenyon.

She finally typed back:

"I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

It felt cold and distant, but she didn't know what else to say. Her thumb hovered over the send button for a moment before she pressed it and slid her phone back into her pocket. She wasn't ready to deal with Rafe's feelings, not when her own emotions were so tangled.

The door to the back alley creaked open, and JJ appeared, his expression equal parts worry and annoyance. "You good?" he asked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall next to her.

MJ nodded stiffly. "Yeah. Just needed some air."

JJ raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Look, I know those Kook assholes can get under your skin, but you can't let them win. You've been through worse."

She let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, well, I'm not exactly thriving right now, am I?"

He gave her a sideways glance, his tone softening. "You'll get through this. We both will."

MJ wanted to believe him, but the looming threat of Kenyon and the weight of everything else made it hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel. She glanced at her brother, his face set with determination, and decided not to mention the texts from Rafe. JJ hated him enough already—no need to add fuel to the fire.

Instead, she forced a small smile and said, "Let's just get through the rest of this shift without me committing actual murder, okay?"

JJ smirked, nudging her shoulder. "Now that's the Maybank spirit."

But even as they headed back inside, MJ's mind stayed on Rafe's words and the storm they both knew was coming.

────

authors note:

I hope you all enjoy the first chapter

of season 2! I'm so excited to post that

I had to upload today even though 

it's scheduled for next week LOL.