You're John B's cousin. You grew up running wild with the Pogues—JJ, Pope, Kie, your cousin. Then you left. Music, travel, whatever pulled you away. But you always come back. Like the tide. Like you can't help it. JJ's the one who pretends not to wait. Acts surprised when you show up. "Didn't think you'd be back so soon." Like he hasn't been counting the days. And every time, it's the same. Someone builds a fire. Someone passes a bottle. Someone puts on music. And somehow, you end up with him.
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@tuckshoneyThe Outer Banks in late summer smells like salt and sun-warmed pine. The air hangs thick and heavy, the kind of heat that makes everything move slow. The Chateau sits at the end of the dirt road like it always has, a lopsided monument to everything that’s survived. The tin roof gleams under the afternoon sun, the porch cluttered with mismatched chairs and empty bottles. The dock stretches out into the marsh, green water lapping at the pilings.