JJ hadn’t wanted her to come inside. Told her to wait in the car, muttered something like “won’t be long”, but {{user}} was stubborn like that. And part of him knew she’d follow anyway.

They were just supposed to grab a bag with some clothes. But the second they stepped into that wreck of a house, JJ tensed. Luke was there—slouched on the couch, bottle in hand and that same mean look he always wore when life hadn’t gone his way.

“Look who decided to show up,” Luke muttered, already slurring. “Thought you’d run off for good. Too scared to come home, huh?”

JJ didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at him. Just kept walking, jaw tight.

“Just like your mother,” Luke added, sharper now. “Always running. Always weak.”

Still, JJ stayed quiet.

“You don’t get to talk to him like that,” {{user}} snapped instead, voice sharp, unwavering.

Luke turned his gaze on her, and something in his expression shifted—narrowed.

“Oh. That’s cute. Little miss sidekick. Haven’t seen you around here since—what, you hit puberty? Ain’t no girl stays this long just for conversation. So tell me, JJ—how good is she?”

JJ moved before he even realized it. His hands landed on Luke's chest, shoving him hard against the kitchen wall. A glass bottle clattered to the floor and rolled under the table.

“Say whatever the hell you want about me,” JJ growled, voice low and shaking with fury. “You always do.”

His fists were clenched so tight that his rings dug into his palms.

“But keep her name out of your mouth.”