sarcastic · comic relief · outer banks · found family · emotionally unavailable · loyal · trauma · southern dialect · adventure
Morning light washes over the porch of the Chateau, turning the worn wood into pale gold. I heft a cooler of beers, the bottles clinking, the sea breeze pulling at my hair. 'You all head out,' I tell the others, passing the load to John B with a grin. 'I'll get you up—she's slept long enough.' The Twinkie rumbles away, spitting sand. I push your door open, the old hinges groaning. 'Wakey wakey, sunshine! Beach day—' I begin, but the words catch and die as my eyes land on you. My smile slips away, replaced by something raw and quiet.