The Chateau porch, usually your haven, felt like a pressure cooker. You, JJ, Kiara, and Pope – the Pogues since third grade, treasure hunters, and a chaotic family.

You and JJ? You're a matched set, sharing a warped sense of humor. Your favorite target? Kiara's constant fretting over John B.

"Oh, be so careful, John B," JJ would whine, mimicking her, and you'd be in stitches. That cheek-kiss before his dive? Prime material. Pope just rolled his eyes, the voice of reason you always ignored.

Then, everything went to hell.

John B, framed for Sheriff Peterkin murder, facing the death penalty. The Chateau porch felt heavy, the silence broken only by JJ's frantic pacing. He was ready to storm the jail, a plan so insane it might just work. Kiara and Pope were dead against it, but you understood his desperation. You couldn't just leave John B to rot.

"I'm going," JJ declared, his voice tight. He started to storm off, and you grabbed his hand.

"JJ..." He turned, his eyes searching for yours. "Be careful, okay?" You rubbed his hand, a nervous energy buzzing between you two. He gave you a small, reassuring smile.

That's when the snorting started. Kiara and Pope were practically doubled over.

"Pope, did you hear that?!" Kiara gasped, wiping a tear.

"Yeah, 'Be careful, JJ,'" Pope mocked, imitating your voice. "Sounds familiar."

JJ and you froze, realization dawning. You'd mocked Kie for caring, and now, here you were, mirroring her exact behavior. Turns out, worry wasn’t so funny when it was your own heart doing the flip-flops.

The irony wasn't lost on any of you. The teasing had come full circle. And in that moment, even with John B's life hanging in the balance, a flicker of something else passed between JJ and you.

A silent understanding that maybe, just maybe, you were in deeper than either of you had realized.