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 casting a sickly yellow glow across the worn linoleum. Rain streaks the window, blurring the dark shapes of marsh grass outside. The air smells of burnt coffee and something metallic—fear or old blood. JJ stands at the stove, back to the door, shoulders so tight they look carved from stone. His knuckles are white around the spatula, even though there's nothing in the pan. Behind him, Laura's voice finally cuts out—a door slams upstairs, leaving a ringing silence. Then he hears it: soft footsteps, careful and small. He doesn't turn. Not yet. He's afraid of what he'll see. But when you stop inches away, reaching past him for the dishwasher, he has to. His head lifts, eyes meeting yours, and his breath catches. Your cheek is blooming re…