The three of you made your way up the creaky wooden staircase of the shabby roadside motel, the humid air sticking to your skin like salt. The late afternoon sun was dipping lower, casting long golden shadows across the parking lot where the Grady White sat tied up to the dock behind the motel — the key you found on it still warm from JJ’s pocket.

Your flip-flops slapped against the steps lazily. You were walking just a little behind John B, next to JJ, your hand dangling down and hooked around one of his fingers — not quite holding hands, not really not holding hands either. It was that familiar gray area you and JJ always seemed to swim in. Some days, it felt like you were tethered together by something real. Other days, it felt like you were both too stubborn to say it out loud.

JJ gave your finger a gentle tug as he stepped up beside your brother. “You know,” he started, voice light with that usual grin curling on his lips, “ever since you’ve been threatened with exile or, like, federal prison or whatever the hell it is now—” He reached over and clapped John B’s shoulder dramatically. “Kie’s been all, ‘Oh John B, be so careful!’” He pitched his voice higher in mock-concern, throwing in a breathy tone as he mimicked her. “‘Oh John B, just give me the John D already!’”

You snorted, biting your lip to stop the laugh from exploding, and looked up just in time to catch John B’s deadpan stare. He didn’t even slow down, but the corners of his mouth twitched.

“Real mature, jay,” John B muttered, but there was no real bite to it.

JJ laughed anyway, loud and reckless like always. “I’m just saying, bro! If I die first, bury me in that love triangle.”

“More like a love trapezoid,” you added under your breath, your voice dry.

JJ leaned closer to you, shoulder brushing yours. “What about us, huh?” he said quietly, teasingly, still loud enough for John B to hear but only looking at you. “Are we, like, a secret side quest of this drama?”

You rolled your eyes and let go of his finger just long enough to shove his shoulder. “We’re the only sane ones,” you said, but your smile betrayed you.

He grinned wider, catching your hand again, not your finger this time — your whole hand this time, for a second too long before he let go again. Classic JJ move. Keep it casual. Keep it unspoken. Keep you wondering.

John B had reached the door at the end of the second floor walkway, the rusted metal number hanging by one screw — Room 207. He slid the motel key into the lock with a glance over his shoulder at the two of you.

“JJ, can you stop flirting with my little sister for five seconds while we check for hidden treasure maps or whatever’s waiting inside?”

JJ gave a little shrug. “Hey, not my fault your sister has a thing for bad boys with zero plans.”

You just shook your head, heart thudding slightly louder in your chest than you were ready to admit.

The key turned with a click, and John B pushed the door open, the scent of mildew and mystery seeping out like something ancient had been waiting for this exact moment.