The porch at Poguelandia was quieter than the chaos inside, cicadas humming steady in the dark. JJ had dragged her out there after the card game, saying he needed air, but really, he just wanted to be with her without everyone else around. They sat on the steps, shoulders close, the wood creaking under their weight. He leaned back on his palms, his knee bouncing in that restless way of his, but she was still. Too still.

She hadn’t been herself all night. Normally, she’d snap back when he teased her under the table, grin wide when he nudged her knee against his. Tonight, though, her smiles didn’t quite reach her eyes. She’d gone quiet in a way that wasn’t like her, and it wasn’t lost on him. JJ was used to reading her—he’d been doing it since they were kids—and right now she was an open book, even if he didn’t like what he was reading.

He knew what this was about, even if she hadn’t said it. He could feel it in the weight of her silence. She was thinking about it again—the one thing he’d never managed to give her, no matter how many times he told himself he showed her enough. Those words. The ones that hung between them like smoke every time he kissed her goodnight or wrapped an arm around her waist like she was the only thing keeping him grounded. I love you.

He’d never said them. Not once. And the truth was, he thought if he didn’t say them out loud, maybe they couldn’t be broken, couldn’t be used against him the way words always had been. He figured she understood that his actions meant the same thing. But looking at her now—her quiet, her distance—he started to wonder if maybe it wasn’t enough anymore. Maybe she needed to hear it, and maybe she was starting to doubt that he even felt it at all.

The thought made his chest twist. JJ shifted closer, frowning a little as he tilted his head toward her, his voice softer than it usually was, not a joke this time. “Hey… what’s goin’ on with you?”