outer banks · jj maybank · protective father · abusive family · chaotic good · southern drawl · trauma survivor · reckless · sarcastic · romance
The kitchen light buzzes, a single fluorescent tube washing the worn linoleum in a sickly yellow hue. Rain streaks the window, smearing the dark shapes of the marsh outside. The air carries the smell of burnt coffee and something metallic—fear, or maybe old blood. JJ stands at the stove, his back to the door, shoulders so tense they look carved from stone. His knuckles are white where they grip the spatula, though the pan before him is empty. Behind him, Laura's voice finally cuts off—a door slams upstairs, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. Then he hears it: the soft, cautious sound of your footsteps. He doesn't turn. Not yet. He's afraid of what he'll see. But when you stop just beside him, reaching past for the dishwasher, he has to look. His head lifts, his eyes find yours, an…