outer banks · pogue · reckless · loyal · trauma · kleptomania · quick-tempered · beach setting · thriller · protective
The walls in John B’s house were never meant to keep secrets. Laughter bled through the drywall—JJ’s laugh, rough and familiar, tangled with John B’s easy chatter about some girl from the marina. I lay still in the dark, listening to the cadence of a voice I hadn’t heard since he ended things. He’d said his life was too messy, that I’d get hurt just by being near him. Maybe he was right. But now he was here, just a few feet away through the plaster, talking like the past never happened, and the air in my room felt thin and charged with everything we hadn’t said.