「 ✦ KENYON CARTER ✦ 」

────

THE AFTERNOON SUN hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the marshlands as Rafe led Rosemary down to the dock. The air was still and thick with the scent of earth and water, a calmness hanging in the air that felt worlds away from the chaos they had both just come from. The boat was tied off to the dock, and the peaceful rhythm of the water gently lapping at the wooden posts was the only sound.

Rosemary settled herself on the edge of the dock, legs dangling over the side, her bare feet skimming the water's surface. Rafe followed her lead, sitting beside her, the two of them were quiet for a moment, simply soaking in the serenity. It was a rare moment of peace between them, one that felt almost too perfect to last.

"So, what's this about you teaching me guitar?" Rafe asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and skepticism. He looked at the instrument she had brought along with her, the guitar leaning against the dock beside them.

MJ smirked, picking up the guitar and strumming it lightly, the sound echoing through the marsh. "You'd be surprised, Cameron. It's not as hard as it looks," she said, her fingers finding the chords effortlessly. She turned to him with a playful glint in her eyes. "I'll teach you. But you have to promise not to make fun of me."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Make fun of you? What kind of guy do you think I am?"

MJ shrugged, giving him a teasing glance. "I mean, I've seen you make fun of a lot of people, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt," she said, handing him the guitar.

Rafe took it carefully, his hands a little unsure as he adjusted it in his lap. He glanced at her, his face suddenly serious. "You're going to teach me to play?"

She nodded, her eyes softening. "Yeah, why not? You seem like you need a distraction from everything. Plus, you're good with your hands. I'm sure you can pick it up."

He chuckled nervously, adjusting his grip on the neck of the guitar. "I don't know about this," he muttered, strumming a few strings awkwardly. The sound was off, clumsy.

MJ smiled at the effort, though she didn't laugh. Instead, she leaned in a little closer, her fingers hovering over his, guiding his hands into place. "You've got to start with the basics," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "Here, let me show you how to hold it properly."

Rafe was surprisingly patient as she helped position his fingers on the strings, her touch warm and guiding. "Okay, now just try strumming," she said, her voice light and encouraging.

Rafe tried strumming a few chords, but they sounded more like a mess of noise than anything musical. But MJ didn't criticize; instead, he offered him a small smile.

"You're getting there. Just focus on the rhythm. The sound will come," she said.

Rafe looked at her, his lips curving up into a smile. "You really think I can do this?"

MJ glanced over at him, her gaze softening as she replied quietly, "I know you can, Cameron. You've got this, you just have to believe it."

There was a long pause between them, the kind of silence that was comfortable, that didn't need words to fill it. MJ felt a sense of calmness settle over her as she watched Rafe concentrate on the guitar, his brow furrowed in concentration. For a moment, it felt like everything else—his past, their shared chaos—was just outside their reach. It was just the two of them at this moment, on a quiet dock in the middle of nowhere, trying to do something simple and real.

"You really don't mind teaching me this?" Rafe asked after a while, his voice a little hesitant, unsure of himself. "I mean, with everything going on... I just don't want to be a distraction or something."

MJ shook her head, her fingers playing a soft melody on the guitar as she glanced up at him. "You're not a distraction," she said. "You're just... you're just someone I want to be with. I mean, yeah, things are messy, but this is us, Rafe. No one else. We get to have this."

He nodded slowly, his hand brushing against hers in a moment of quiet connection. For a fleeting second, it felt like maybe they could figure out the rest of their mess later. But for now, the only thing that mattered was the sound of the guitar, the warm afternoon breeze, and the fact that they were sitting side by side, taking one step at a time.

"Alright, show me the next part," Rafe said after a beat. His voice was was steady as he looked at hand er, and hiwas s smile was small but genuine.

MJ grinned back, her eyes lighting up. "You got it, Cameron. Just follow my lead."

As she began to guide his fingers through the next few chords, the world seemed to fade away a little, leaving only the sound of music and the soft rhythm of their hearts in sync with the strings.

Rafe watched her for a moment, his expression softening as he asked, "Can you play something for me? Something... calm."

MJ glanced at him, a small smile curling at the corners of her lips. She could see the way his eyes were tired, and worn, like he had been carrying the weight of everything for too long. Maybe she could give him a bit of peace, even if only for a few minutes.

Without saying anything, she took the guitar back from his hands, her fingers lightly strumming as she adjusted the position, settling into a more comfortable rhythm. Rafe lay down beside her, his head resting gently on her lap. His eyes were closed, the weight of the world briefly forgotten in the stillness between them.

She started to play a soft melody, the notes flowing easily as she lost herself in the music. The chords were simple, but the melody was something she'd been humming for a while now, a song she had written when things had been particularly difficult for her. It was slow, gentle—nothing too intense, just a lullaby of sorts.

The soft hum of her voice filled the quiet space, barely above a whisper at first, but then her voice grew louder, blending with the song. She sang with a raw tenderness that reflected everything she couldn't put into words, everything she didn't want to say out loud.

Her voice trembled slightly at the higher notes, but she didn't stop, her fingers continuing to move with ease along the strings. The melody was delicate, and there was an undeniable intimacy in the way she sang, as if the song was just for him, just for the two of them.

Rafe didn't speak, but the steady rise and fall of his chest told her that he was listening. His hand rested gently on her thigh, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin in rhythm with the music. His eyes were closed, and his body relaxed, as though he were trusting her completely with this moment.

She finished the song with a soft, lingering note, her fingers pausing over the strings. There was silence between them for a long moment, the sound of the marsh and the soft ripple of the water in the background the only sounds that remained.

Rafe opened his eyes slowly, meeting her gaze. His voice was low, almost hesitant as he spoke. "That was beautiful," he said, his tone soft but full of sincerity. "You should've told me you could sing like that."

MJ gave a small laugh, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "I don't usually sing for people."

He smiled, his hand moving to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear as well, his touch gentle. "I'm glad you did for me," he said quietly.

She let the guitar rest across her lap, her fingers still lightly touching the strings as she looked down at him. He looked so peaceful like this as if the storm inside him had calmed for just a while. "You deserve some peace, Rafe," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm not sure I believe that," he admitted, his voice rough but warm. His eyes searched hers for a moment, as though he were trying to figure something out.

"You should," she replied softly. "We all do. Even if we don't always know it."

Rafe's eyes softened, and for a brief moment, he didn't seem like the troubled, complicated person she had come to know. He was just Rafe, lying there, trusting her with his vulnerability. The silence between them now felt comfortable, like they were both simply content to be in each other's presence.

"I'm glad you're here," he said, his voice quiet but honest.

She smiled, fingers gently strumming again. "I'm glad you are too, Rafe."

MJ set the guitar aside carefully, the faint melody still lingering in the humid air. Her gaze locked with Rafe's, his blue eyes softened in a way that made her heart ache. The weight of everything unsaid hung between them, as tangible as the warmth of his hand still resting lightly on her thigh.

She reached out instinctively, her fingers brushing the line of his jaw, where stubble teased against her touch. "Rafe," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the gentle ripple of the water, "you're more than what you think you are."

He blinked, surprised at her words, and for a moment, the walls he so carefully built seemed to falter. His hand moved hesitantly to her face, fingertips grazing her cheek as though he were afraid she might disappear. "You really believe that?" he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with a vulnerability he rarely let show.

MJ smiled softly, her thumb tracing the curve of his cheekbone. "I do. And you should too."

Rafe stared at her, the world around them growing quieter as if the marsh itself held its breath. Slowly, he leaned closer, his forehead resting against hers. She could feel his breath, warm and unsteady, mingling with her own. Her heart hammered in her chest, the closeness between them both exhilarating and terrifying.

He tilted his head, his lips brushing hers tentatively at first, testing the waters. When she didn't pull away—when her hands slid up to his shoulders, pulling him closer—he pressed his mouth fully to hers. The kiss was slow, almost cautious as if they were both trying to memorize every second of it. His lips were softer than she expected, warm and full of unspoken emotion.

MJ's hands tangled in his hair as she leaned into him, her senses overwhelmed by the scent of salt air and the feel of him so close. Rafe's hand slid from her cheek to the small of her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. The kiss deepened, the tenderness giving way to a raw intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless, Rafe rested his forehead against hers again. His eyes were searching hers, filled with something she hadn't seen in him before—hope.

"You make me feel like... maybe I could be better," he admitted, his voice hoarse. "Like maybe I deserve this. Deserve you."

MJ cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as she smiled, her own eyes shining. "You already are better, Rafe. And you deserve more than you think. You just have to believe it."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the air around them filled with the quiet symphony of the marsh. Rafe's hand remained on her back, holding her as if afraid to let go, while MJ rested her forehead against his, content to let the world fall away.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was softer, steadier. "I don't want this to be just a moment, MJ. I want... I want more with you."

Her smile widened, a mixture of relief and joy washing over her. "Then we'll figure it out. Together."

And with that, they stayed there for a while, letting the soft hum of the guitar and the fading light of the day hold them in a fragile moment of peace.

────

"Let me know if I'm hurting you," Sarah said, her voice steady but with a hint of concern as she cleaned Heyward's head wound. The guy looked like he'd gone a few rounds with a freight train, and everyone was worried about how he'd gotten the injuries in the first place.

MJ—who was, by no means, a stranger to trouble—was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, eyes narrowed, observing the situation. She'd just gotten the call about Heyward, and naturally, she'd tagged along, pulling her brother, JJ, out of a bathroom stall on the way there. It was awkward—more so for JJ and MJ than anyone else. Sure, they were twins, but that didn't mean they were immune to weird vibes, especially with JJ's recent stunt of pretending he didn't have feelings for Kie.

"Came as soon as I got the call," Pope said, walking over to Heyward, looking a little tense. He was still sorting through his thoughts about the situation, especially with everything that had gone down recently.

MJ couldn't help but feel the awkwardness between Pope and JJ, too. They hadn't exactly been on the best terms after Pope found out about JJ's secret feelings for Kie. And there was still something unsettled between the two of them that neither had fully addressed. MJ didn't care much for the drama, but it still made everything feel heavier.

"You're doing fine, old man," Heyward groaned as Sarah carefully pressed a bandage to his head. "Thanks, kiddo," he mumbled, his voice rough.

"So, what happened?" Pope asked, standing a little taller as he hovered over the situation, eyeing his father cautiously. MJ could tell from the way he was standing that there was still some unresolved tension between them.

"Well, I should've known better," Heyward said with a heavy sigh. "I was locking up, and outta nowhere, this guy comes charging in, catches me by surprise, and boom—I'm on the ground. Then he puts his knee in my chest and starts demanding answers about that damn drawing you showed me. And don't worry, I didn't tell him a thing."

"We didn't doubt you," MJ chimed in, her voice as sharp as ever. She wasn't about to let anyone talk about her family like that. "We know you wouldn't crack that easy."

But Pope didn't seem convinced, still eyeing his father with suspicion. He nodded, passing Heyward the key that had been the center of all their problems. Heyward scoffed as he took it.

"You should've given me this sooner. Would've saved me a hell of a lot of trouble," he said, inspecting the key with a puzzled look. "What's the big deal with this thing, anyway? Ain't worth a damn thing. Why are they after it so badly?"

Pope sighed, rubbing his temples. "First, I get a letter telling me to go to Charleston. Then, I meet this fancy lady who wants me to hand over a key that's been in my family for who knows how long." He threw his hands up in frustration. "None of this makes sense."

Kie, who had been standing off to the side, quietly shook her head. "None of it makes sense. None of it."

MJ wasn't listening. Her eyes were glued to her hands, twisting nervously. The whole situation felt too heavy, too much like it was all connected in ways they couldn't even begin to understand. She hated this feeling—the one that made her stomach twist into knots.

"Well, don't just sit around moping," Heyward snapped. "Figure it out!"

Pope immediately stood up straighter, preparing to handle whatever came next. "No, I'm just gonna give the damn key to that lady. I don't care about the rest of it."

"Are you kidding me?" Heyward barked, sitting up a little straighter despite his injury. "Did I raise you to back down from a fight?"

Pope didn't flinch, though. He stood firm, eyes locked on his father. "No, Sir," he said, his voice flat, but his gaze unwavering.

"Well, alright." Heyward waved his hand dismissively, realizing he was losing control of the situation. "Now, y'all have the key. But what's this thing about a lost treasure?" He glanced over at MJ for a moment, the mention of her last name making her stomach twist.

"I think it's connected to something older," Pope said quietly, glancing over at MJ as if trying to gauge her reaction. "An old cross. Some kind of treasure that's been lost for a long time. Something tells me this is all bigger than we thought."

MJ stood silently, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on her. She clenched her fists, trying to keep her emotions in check, but it was hard. She had no idea what kind of mess they were getting into, but she knew it was bigger than any of them realized.

"Y'all need to talk to Mee-Maw. She's the one who knows about all this family stuff," Heyward said, suddenly dropping a bombshell that made everyone go still. "She might have the answers."

Pope's eyes widened in surprise. "Mee-Maw?" he asked as if he'd never thought of it before. "How did I not think of that?"

MJ couldn't hold back a snarky chuckle. "Guess you aren't as smart as you think, huh, Pope?" She didn't even look up, still fiddling with the keys in her pocket, but her voice carried enough bite that everyone in the room could feel it.

Pope shot her a glare but didn't say anything. He just nodded at the others. "Alright, we're going on a trip. Get your stuff and meet me back here tonight."

MJ sighed, rolling her eyes as she shoved her hands in her pockets. "Great. A road trip. Just what I needed today."

────

MJ walked down the cracked sidewalk toward the local grocery store, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket, her mind racing. The evening was cool, but not enough to shake the uneasy feeling in her chest. It was one of those nights where everything felt off. Her brother had been distant, Pope was lost in his thoughts, and the whole situation with the key was making her head spin. She needed something familiar, something she could control, like snacks. And maybe a soda to wash it all down.

As she passed the alleyway near the old laundromat, she froze. A figure stepped out from the shadows, and MJ instinctively tensed, ready for confrontation, but then she saw him. Kenyon.

Her heart skipped a beat. Kenyon. Things had fallen apart between them after the tragedy—MJ had retreated into herself, keeping her distance from everyone, and Kenyon had done the same, consumed by his own grief. Zaza had been his world, and in a way, she had been MJ's too.

Kenyon's bright eyes met hers, filled with a kind of sorrow that made her chest tighten. He looked older somehow, worn down by the past few months. But his face softened when he saw her, a faint, sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Hey MJ," he said, his voice low, almost hesitant, as if he wasn't sure how to approach her anymore.

She didn't know what to say. She hadn't expected to see him here, and the conversation that had been hanging between them since Zaza's death was one MJ wasn't ready to have. But she wasn't about to back down now.

"What's up, Kenyon?" Her voice came out sharp, more snarky than she intended. She hated the awkwardness between them, but she also hated how things had fallen apart with him—how they used to be so close, and now there was this massive, unspoken space between them.

Kenyon hesitated, running a hand through his hair before speaking. "I—I got news about Zaza. Her autopsy came back. They said..." He paused, and MJ could see the struggle in his eyes. "She was killed hours after the warehouse, MJ, She met up with someone else. Someone we don't know."

MJ's stomach dropped. Her throat tightened, and for a moment, she couldn't find the words. "What? No. That doesn't—"

Kenyon cut her off, his voice quieter now, laced with disbelief. "Yeah. I thought you should know. I know it doesn't make sense, but... I think she was cheating, MJ" He swallowed hard as if saying it aloud was a struggle. "I don't know who, but the timing's all wrong. She was dead long after that whole warehouse thing."

MJ stood there, frozen, processing what Kenyon was saying. Zaza? Cheating? It didn't make sense. The Zaza she knew—the girl who was always so loyal, so full of heart—wasn't the type to hide something like that. But then again, MJ had no idea what was really going on in Zaza's life before her death. They hadn't been as close as they'd once been in the last few months. Still, the idea that Zaza might have been lying to them felt like a punch in the gut.

Kenyon shifted uncomfortably, his eyes now on the ground. "I know it sounds crazy, but I'm just trying to make sense of it. And maybe, if we figure out who she met, we'll finally know what happened. Because right now, it's all just a mess, and it doesn't add up."

MJ's mind raced as she processed the new information. It didn't sit right with her—anything about Zaza's death had felt right, but now this? Now she was supposed to believe that the girl she once knew could have been hiding something so huge? She didn't know whether to feel betrayed, confused, or just plain lost.

"I don't know what to say, Kenyon," she finally muttered, her voice flat. "This is... a lot to take in. Zaza wouldn't have—she wouldn't have kept something like that from us."

"I know, MJ. Believe me, I know." He reached up and rubbed his face, clearly exhausted by the weight of it all. "But it's the only thing that makes sense right now. If you find anything out—anything at all—you've gotta let me know. I have to know who she was meeting."

She swallowed hard, her emotions a tangle of frustration and sadness. Zaza was dead, and now they were left trying to piece together the last days of her life. If there was anyone she trusted to help figure it out, it was Kenyon. Even if it felt wrong. But at the same time, MJ couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this than they were being told.

"I'll keep an eye out," she said finally, her voice soft but firm. "But I don't know if I'll find anything. You know how it is."

He hesitated for a moment before he spoke again. "I really miss her, you know. Zaza. She was... everything."

MJ's heart tightened at the sincerity in his voice, and she nodded, a lump in her throat. "Yeah. Me too."

With that, the silence stretched between them, heavy and thick. Kenyon finally broke it, his shoulders slumping. "Look, I should go. I'll see you around, okay?"

"Yeah," MJ muttered, giving him a small, awkward nod. "See you."

As MJ turned to leave, her hand already on the door to the grocery store, she heard Kenyon's voice call out to her. She hesitated for a moment, then turned back to face him. His face was clouded with regret, his eyes dark and tired as he stepped toward her.

"I—I just want to say... I'm sorry, Rosemary Jane, Kenyon said, his voice shaky. "I'm sorry for getting you into all of that... the drugs, the mess we got into." He swallowed, his expression torn. "I know it messed you up. I know it messed everything up."

MJ's heart tightened in her chest, and for a moment, the anger and confusion that had been swirling inside her melted into something softer, something more vulnerable. She didn't know what to say. Part of her wanted to yell at him, to blame him for everything that had happened, but another part of her knew that they were both just kids, trying to survive in a world that had handed them nothing but pain.

She let out a slow breath, looking at him carefully. "You didn't get me into anything, Kenyon. I made my own choices," she said, her voice firm but quiet. "I knew what I was doing."

But even as she said it, she knew it wasn't entirely true. Kenyon had been the one to pull her into his world, a world of secrets and danger, but at the same time, she had followed him and sought out the same escape he had. She could have walked away at any point, but she hadn't.

Kenyon's gaze softened, but there was a pain in his eyes that MJ couldn't ignore. "Still, I'm sorry. For all of it. Zaza... everything." He paused, his eyes searching hers. "I should've never dragged you into that. You didn't deserve any of it."

She didn't know how to respond. Her thoughts were a blur, and all she could focus on was the weight of his apology, and the sincerity in his words. She nodded slowly, then forced a half-smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "It's not like we can change anything now," she said, trying to keep her tone light, to push away the guilt that threatened to consume her. "We just have to keep moving forward."

Kenyon seemed to accept that, though his expression remained troubled. He shifted uneasily on his feet, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets as he let out a soft sigh. "I don't know what happened to us, River. We used to be tight. And then everything just... fell apart."

"Yeah," MJ said quietly, staring at him for a long moment. "I don't know either."

There was a long pause, both of them standing there, feeling the distance that had grown between them. Then, Kenyon finally spoke, breaking the silence with a quiet but firm, "I hope you figure things out. For yourself."

MJ nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I will."

With one last look, Kenyon turned and walked away, disappearing into the night as MJ watched him go. She stood there for a moment longer, her mind racing with the weight of everything that had been said. The guilt, the regret, the pain of it all—she didn't know how to make sense of it.

But what she did know was that the past was something neither of them could change. They could apologize all they wanted, but the damage had already been done. Now, all she could do was move forward. Even if she wasn't sure where that would lead.

With a final breath, MJ pushed open the door to the grocery store and stepped inside, the bright lights and mundane aisles a stark contrast to the darkness of her thoughts. 

MJ wandered down the snack aisle, her fingers trailing over the bags of chips and candy as she tried to focus on something—anything—that could take her mind off the mess of everything. But as she reached for a pack of sour gummy worms, she caught sight of a familiar face standing a few aisles over, staring at the shelf with a look of intense concentration.

Topper.

Her heart gave a small, irritated lurch. Of course, he would be here. She wasn't sure what she hated more—the fact that he was here, or the fact that she was somehow still paying attention to him.

Her gaze flicked over to the shelf he was standing by and her lips curled into a smirk when she saw what he was holding.

"Really?" she called out, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she pushed her cart toward him. "I always knew you were the type to plan, but damn, Topper. Plan B?"

Topper stiffened, his eyes darting to the small box in his hand before quickly trying to shove it back onto the shelf. But it was too late—MJ had already seen it, and she wasn't about to let him off the hook that easily.

She took a step closer, her arms crossed as she shot him a look that was equal parts amused and judgmental. "Are you seriously trying to cover up your mess with that? Do you even know how it works, or are you just hoping it'll save you from all the dumb decisions you've been making lately?"

Topper shot her a glare, but she wasn't intimidated. She leaned in a little, enjoying the way he visibly stiffened under her gaze.

"You know," she said, her voice low and mocking, "you might be less of a mess if you stopped getting involved with people who don't give a damn about you." She couldn't resist throwing in a little extra sting. "But I guess that's too much of a mature concept for you, huh?"

Topper's face turned red, his hands gripping the box tighter. "I don't need you to lecture me, MJ," he spat, his voice tense. "This isn't your business."

She raised an eyebrow, letting out a short, incredulous laugh. "Oh, sweetie, if I'm the last person who should be giving you advice, then you really are in deeper trouble than I thought."

She didn't give him a chance to respond, instead turning her back on him and heading for the checkout counter. As she walked away, she couldn't resist one last jab, calling over her shoulder, "Hope the 'plan' works out for you, Topper. If you're lucky, it'll be the best decision you make all week."

The last thing she heard was his muttered curse, and she smiled to herself, feeling a small sense of satisfaction. Whatever mess he was dealing with was his problem now. She had enough of her own to deal with.

────

The van was unusually quiet, the weight of the tension between everyone making the air feel thick and uncomfortable. MJ could feel it, but she was trying not to care too much—after all, her twin, JJ, was sitting next to her, and they were fine. They always found a way to distract themselves from the awkwardness.

"So, Limbrey said something about the key," Pope finally spoke up, breaking the silence, and MJ was grateful for the interruption.

"Yeah, the cross of Santo Domingo," Pope continued, looking between everyone. "I think we might be dealing with something... a little bigger than we thought."

"Wait. Can I see that?" JJ piped up, snatching the key from Pope before anyone could react. He turned it over in his hands, making it look like a toy.

MJ rolled her eyes, "For someone who can barely remember to bring his wallet, you're awfully attached to that key."

JJ shot her a playful grin. "Hey, I'm an important person now, I need to make sure it doesn't get lost."

"Important, my ass," MJ snorted, but it was clear she was amused. "Next thing you know, you'll be the one holding a treasure map."

"Are we supposed to know what that is?" Sarah asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"I'm guessing it's some kind of historical artifact," Pope explained, giving JJ a side-eye as he tried to act casual.

"Wait, did you say New Spain?" JJ asked, pretending to be fascinated. "Is there an Old Spain? Or like... a middle-aged Spain?"

No one laughed, but MJ smirked anyway, nudging her brother's shoulder. "You're a damn genius, JJ. Let's get you a medal."

"Stop making fun of me," JJ grumbled, but his usual flippant attitude couldn't hide the tension in his shoulders. He hadn't said much to MJ in the past couple of hours, but it wasn't anything new—he just had to process his emotions differently. That didn't stop her from giving him shit about it, though.

"Anyway," Kie continued, ignoring JJ's sarcasm, "It was a gift from New Spain to the Spanish king. Something about it being super fancy and lost at sea in 1829."

"That sounds like the type of thing I'd forget at home and then panic about later," JJ said, rolling his eyes and leaning back in his seat. "Big-ass cross, though. Can you imagine how many churches they'd need for that thing?"

"It's massive," MJ muttered, squinting at the image on Kie's phone. The cross in the photo was taller than the person. "That's not just a cross, that's a damn monument."

JJ threw his head back with a laugh. "A cross so big, they probably need a whole new religion to go with it."

"Hey, focus!" Kie shot back, though her lips twitched as if she wanted to smile at JJ's joke. "This cross was considered the most extravagant gift from the provinces. Lost off the coast of Bermuda. But why would it matter that the key is from your Mee-Maw's pharmacy?"

Pope's eyes darted to MJ for a second before he looked back down at the key. "I don't know. This whole thing's too messy."

Silence fell over the van again as they pulled up outside the nursing home. Pope was the first one out, barely pausing before he turned back to the group. "Actually, I'm gonna do this one alone. I can handle it."

"He's acting weird," JJ said. 

"Stop projecting, dude. You're not that deep." MJ rolled her eyes, tapping him on the arm.

"What? I can't have a little deepness?" JJ grinned.

"You? Deep?" MJ snorted. "Not unless you count the space between your ears."

JJ grinned like the banter had just recharged his batteries. "You're just jealous of my wisdom."

"I'm jealous of your ability to walk in a straight line without tripping," MJ quipped back, already scanning the nursing home with a sense of restlessness. She knew something was about to go down, and it had nothing to do with her brother's inability to keep his thoughts to himself.

The van door slammed shut as Pope waved everyone off. "We'll pick you guys up in a bit."

As the van pulled away, MJ didn't even glance back Pope. She was already focused on what was coming next—though if she was being honest, she wasn't sure what that was. What she was sure of was that she was going to get through this with JJ, no matter how ridiculous it got.

"So, do you think we're gonna find some actual treasure or just more weird crap?" MJ asked, leaning back and tossing a glance at JJ.

"If I had to guess," JJ said, his eyes glinting with that typical mischievousness, "We're gonna find a hell of a lot of weird crap. Maybe treasure. But we'll definitely get into some shit."

"Yeah, sounds about right," MJ smirked, the quiet tension of the last few hours already fading in the face of their usual back-and-forth. "And you'll probably get yourself arrested along the way, but hey, at least it'll be fun."

"Probably," JJ grinned, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "But that's the fun part."

────

Later that day, MJ had slipped away from the group, her mind restless as she wandered the familiar streets. The sky was beginning to darken, and the air had a thick, humid quality to it. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she glanced at the screen, her brow furrowing when she saw Rafe's name.

"Yeah?" MJ answered, her tone flat, not expecting much.

"MJ! MJ!" Rafe's voice on the other end was frantic, almost unrecognizable. She jerked her phone away from her ear for a second, the intensity of his distress rattling her. It was unlike anything she'd ever heard from him before.

"Rafe? What the hell's going on?" she asked, now more alert, her mind racing to make sense of his panicked tone.

"I—my dad," Rafe gasped, his voice breaking in a way MJ had never heard before. "He... he blew up the boat. He's... he's dead. And he took the blame. For me. He said it was me."

MJ's stomach twisted, her mind reeling from the words. "What the hell are you talking about?" Her voice was low, almost a whisper, the disbelief clear in her tone.

"He's gone, MJ. My dad—he... He did it! He sacrificed himself. He took the fall for me," Rafe was choking on his words now, his breathing erratic. "He wanted to protect me, but... he's gone! He's—"

"Rafe, listen to me!" MJ snapped, trying to cut through his hysteria. Her heart pounded in her chest. "Where are you? I need you to calm the hell down. Where are you? You're not alone, right?"

She could hear him trying to regain some composure on the other end of the line, but the quiet was filled with a raw, suffocating kind of grief. "I don't know what to do, MJ. I don't know how to fix this. He... he just—he took the blame. And I couldn't stop him. I—I couldn't save him."

MJ's pulse quickened as she leaned against a nearby streetlight, trying to steady her thoughts. Rafe—Rafe was completely unravelling. The usual bravado, the cocky attitude, the damn arrogance was gone. He was shattered. And somehow, it made everything worse.

"Listen to me," MJ said, her voice firm now despite the panic bubbling in her chest. "You don't have to go through this alone. We'll figure it out. You're not going to fix this on your own, okay? You have to stay with people right now, stay where it's safe. I'm coming to you. Just... just don't do anything stupid."

A long silence followed, and MJ thought for a moment the line had dropped. But then she heard him speak, quieter now. "I don't know if I can keep going like this. I don't know how to fix it. I don't know if I can live with this... with what he did for me."

Her chest tightened, and the words she knew would break through everything else slipped out before she could stop them.

"You don't have to fix it, Rafe," MJ said, her voice softer now, the edge of her anger replaced by something else—something more vulnerable. "You just have to keep breathing. Just keep going. And I'll be there. We'll figure this out, okay?"

Rafe was silent for a beat, then sniffed loudly, his voice cracking. "I don't even know if I deserve... if I deserve to be saved."

"Then you don't get a choice," MJ snapped, though her words were gentler now. "You don't get to decide that. You're coming with me, and we'll deal with this together. You hear me?"

There was another long pause. Then, finally, Rafe's voice, broken but quiet, answered.

"Yeah. Yeah, I hear you."

MJ closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Her heart was still racing, but the sharpness in her mind cleared just enough to focus. This wasn't over. Not yet. And she wasn't going to let him fall apart, no matter how much it hurt.

"Stay put, Rafe," she said, her voice now resolute. "I'm on my way."

MJ's phone buzzed again, pulling her from the haze of thoughts. It was a text from Rafe, an address she barely recognized. It was his family's place, but deeper in the woods, farther away from everything. Her heart skipped a beat as she quickly typed a reply: On my way.

She shoved the phone into her pocket, grabbed her helmet, and jumped on her bike. Her muscles burned as she pedalled harder than usual, trying to push through the rising panic gnawing at her insides. She couldn't help Rafe if she lost herself in the chaos. Focus, she told herself. Focus on him.

The ride felt long, but she knew every twist and turn like the back of her hand. The trees passed in a blur as she sped toward Rafe's place, the world around her feeling muffled as if the entire situation was too big to understand. By the time she reached the address, the sun had almost completely set, leaving only the faint glow of streetlights flickering in the distance.

She pulled up to the large, dark house, her breath catching as she spotted Rafe standing on the porch, his figure hunched, looking like he hadn't moved in hours. The sight made her stomach turn.

She parked her bike quickly and jogged up the steps to him, her boots crunching against the gravel.

"Rafe," she called, her voice sharp, but the moment he looked at her, her tone softened. He was a mess—eyes wide, cheeks streaked with tears, his hands trembling at his sides.

"Hey," she said quietly, stepping forward and gently guiding him inside. She didn't have words for how much she wanted to take away his pain, but all she could do was be there. She took a deep breath, running her hand through his dishevelled hair, something steady for him to hold on to.

He let out a shaky breath, clutching the hem of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. "Rose called me," he muttered, eyes bloodshot. "She—she said there's a video. Something for all of us to watch. I—I don't know, MJ. I can't... I can't be alone for this."

The words were barely above a whisper, but they carried so much weight that it felt like the room got smaller.

"Of course, you're not alone," MJ said softly, her voice firm in the way she always tried to be when everything felt like it was falling apart. "I'm not going anywhere."

He nodded but didn't speak for a moment, staring blankly into the distance. "Would you... would you come with me?" Rafe asked, his voice fragile, raw.

"Yeah," MJ said, squeezing his arm gently. "I'll drive us."

She paused, then stepped back, trying to break the tension with a bit of humour. "Hand me your keys."

Rafe blinked at her for a second, almost too disoriented to process. Then, his lips curled into a wry smile, despite the chaos inside him. "You sure? I heard you're not a great driver."

MJ's eyebrows shot up. She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning into her playful side despite the circumstances. "You think I'm gonna let a little thing like bad driving stop me from helping you out?"

Rafe chuckled weakly, a short, almost pained sound. "I mean, yeah... kinda. You've had a couple of... accidents, haven't you?"

"Who hasn't?" she shot back, a smirk tugging at her lips as she snatched the keys from his hand. "Now, stop stalling. We've got a video to watch, remember?"

For the first time in hours, there was a flicker of something in Rafe's eyes—something faint, like hope, even if he couldn't quite hold on to it yet. He stepped back, nodding slightly.

"Let's go then," he said, his voice quiet again, but this time with a hint of something else, something that might have been gratitude—or maybe just relief.

MJ started to lead the way to the door, her heart still thumping in her chest, but she could feel the weight of the moment settle around them. No matter what happened next, she was here for him. And that was something Rafe needed more than anything right now.

────

MJ stood in the living room, her arms crossed over her chest as the recorded message from Ward played out in front of them. She barely registered his words, her mind too focused on Rafe. His pacing behind Wheezie, the nervous energy radiating off him, was all she could feel. The guilt gnawed at her. Ward's confession was almost too much to bear, but what really tore at MJ was the silent understanding between them. Ward had taken the fall for Rafe, for all the things Rafe couldn't admit, and for a moment, she felt the weight of her own guilt settle over her.

She clenched her fists, her heart racing. Ward had taken the blame for her too. For the sheriff. For the things that had happened in the chaos that night. She hadn't told anyone the full truth—hadn't been able to. Ward had protected her, even at the cost of his own life. And now, hearing his words, she felt suffocated by the burden of it all.

As Ward continued on about his fears and regrets, MJ's eyes kept drifting to Rafe, and her stomach twisted. She couldn't stand to see him like this. He was hurting—just like she was, just like everyone was—and yet, she knew deep down that his pain came from a place of betrayal too. His father had taken the blame for the things Rafe had done, and now it was all unravelling.

When Ward's video ended, there was an eerie silence in the room. Everyone was reeling from his final confession. But MJ couldn't focus on them. She only had eyes for Rafe.

Without thinking, she pushed past Sarah, who was sitting frozen in disbelief, and followed Rafe outside. She found him standing near the porch, glass in hand, his body tense as if every muscle was about to snap. The cool night air did nothing to calm him down, and she could see the shake in his hands.

"Rafe," she said, her voice soft but steady, trying to meet his gaze. "It's not your fault."

He looked up at her, the anger, the pain, the confusion, all mixed into a storm behind his eyes. "My dad—he just—he... did that for me," he muttered, shaking his head. "And I... I'm the reason he's gone."

MJ stepped closer to him, her hand instinctively reaching out to gently touch his arm. She couldn't let him go through this alone, not when she knew what it felt like to carry someone else's burden. The guilt threatened to swallow her whole, but Rafe needed her now, more than ever.

"Rafe," she said again, firmer this time, "he didn't just do that for you. He did it for everyone he loved. He thought he was protecting you, and... I don't think he could live with the idea of seeing you get hurt. But that doesn't make it your fault."

He met her eyes for a long moment, and MJ could see the conflict raging inside him. He didn't want to believe her, but at the same time, he needed to.

"I should have told him the truth," he whispered, almost to himself. "I should've..."

"No." MJ cut him off gently, her tone serious. "You didn't deserve that. And neither did your dad." She felt her chest tighten, thinking of the lies and secrets that had been kept from her. "I didn't deserve it either."

Rafe's brow furrowed in confusion, but before he could speak, MJ continued, her voice small but filled with emotion. "I—Ward took the fall for me too. For the sheriff... when I... when I shot him. He said nothing, Rafe. He kept quiet for me."

Rafe froze, the glass slipping from his hand and shattering on the ground. "What?" he choked out, his face pale with disbelief. "MJ, you didn't—"

"I did." MJ's voice cracked as the weight of her confession came crashing down on her. "And Ward—he covered for me. He said he did it to protect me. To protect all of us." She swallowed hard, not wanting to break in front of him but not sure how much longer she could hold it together. "And now he's gone. Because of all of this. Because we both kept secrets."

The words hung in the air between them, thick with guilt. Rafe didn't know what to say, his shock evident in his silence. MJ felt like she couldn't breathe, knowing that Rafe's father wasn't the only one who had taken on a burden that wasn't his to carry.

Finally, Rafe looked up at her, his eyes wide and searching. "But you... you never asked him to do that. You didn't ask him to protect you."

"No," MJ whispered. "But I couldn't stop him. He didn't want me to carry the guilt, Rafe. Just like you don't want to carry it now."

She stepped closer, her voice softening as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "We both need to forgive ourselves for what we've done. For the people we've hurt. But it starts with understanding that none of this is solely on us. We're all in this together."

Rafe blinked rapidly, a single tear sliding down his cheek. "I don't know how to fix any of this, MJ."

"You don't have to," she said quietly, pulling him into a tight hug. "You just have to take it one day at a time. And let me help you."

They stood there for a long while, the weight of everything hanging heavy between them, but somehow, at that moment, MJ knew they were going to be okay. Not right away, not yet—but they would figure it out. Eventually.

She hopped.