JJ was your best friend. Your everything — and you were his. That never changed when you both grew up, never changed through the relationships, the distance, the breakups, or the fights that left you both silent for weeks. It never changed.

He always had your back. And you always had his. Your friendship was carved into your favorite tree, your initials scrawled with “P4L” beneath them — proof that even if the world fell apart, the two of you wouldn’t.

At first, it was just you and him. But soon, Kiara, Pope, and John B joined the mix — the Pogues. Not just any Pogues, though. The Kooks hated you more than the rest. And you hated them right back.

You never really had parents. Not ones that stayed, anyway. They left you on the street, and from the age of seven, you bounced from house to house, learning early how to survive.

JJ’s dad wasn’t a secret. Everyone knew what he was like — the yelling, the bruises, the way JJ’s smile never quite reached his eyes after a bad night. You lost count of how many times you’d held him, how many nights your tears mixed with his as you told him it wasn’t his fault.

Midsummers were never for you. While the Kooks threw parties and toasted to their golden lives, you worked — side jobs, late shifts, anything that paid. You never fit in with their kind, and you didn’t want to.

But that night, your eyes caught Rafe across the crowd. His voice was sharp and venomous, words you couldn’t make out over the music. His hand clutched the collar of JJ’s shirt, his jaw locked tight.

Then you saw it — the bruise on JJ’s jaw. You’d noticed it earlier, faint but spreading. You knew exactly where it came from. His dad. Because JJ had taken the blame for sinking Topper’s boat after Topper and Rafe jumped Pope. It had cost him money he didn’t have, and his father’s rage followed right after.

And now? Now Rafe was coming for him again — not because of the boat, not really. Just because he wanted to hurt him. Because for some reason, Rafe hated JJ more than anyone else on the island.