Together Again • JJ Maybank

Twelve cont.

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TWO WEEKS EARLIER  //  JJ'S POV

"You're still one of us, JJ. A pogue. And I still love you."

With my jaw clenched, I stubbornly locked my eyes onto the blade of grass in front of me instead of turning to watch Abby as she walked away. 

The past few months had been torture as I tried to stay away from her. But I was determined to keep her and the rest of the Pogues safe, so if that meant me keeping away, then I'd have to continue to suffer with a broken heart.

I pulled my Juul from my pocket once I heard the front door close behind me, taking a deep inhale in an attempt to slow my racing thoughts. Abby had shown up at my doorstep yesterday, and in a moment of weakness after hearing her voice, I opened the door. She was so desperate, excited and nervous to figure out the meaning of the postcards that I couldn't stop myself from letting her in. And when it turned out that I had the missing piece, my world crumbled around me once again.

John B was still alive. 

Even just thinking it now made me feel sick to the stomach. Yesterdays relief hit me like a bulldozer. But now that the dust has settled, I'm fucking angry! How could he let us think he was dead for this long? He was suppose to be my best friend, and he abandoned me!

For the past four months I've been convinced that I am the cause of all our problems. Cursed. Or bad luck. I don't know which one, but some fucked up shit at least. I wasn't going to sit around and let Abby, Pope or Kiara's lives be dragged down by mine any longer. Everyone I ever cared about either left or got hurt. Except for my dad. Which is just even more evidence that I am cursed.

Last night was an accidental bump in the road. I was weak. And having Abby hold onto me as I broke down made me remember how much I wanted and needed her. I miss John B like crazy, but nothing compares to how much I miss Abby.

Holding her body in my arms again felt incredible. But waking up this morning knowing I'd fucked up, once again, felt worse than any beating my dad could give me. Maybe last night would be the closure she needs to give up on me. It sure as hell didn't feel like closure to me, but I'd at least have one last incredible memory with her to hold onto.

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TODAY

I've tried to keep busy these past two weeks since Abby discovered that John B was still alive. My mind was racing, flicking back and forth between keeping away or going back to my friends, especially when she left a message telling me she had actually spoken to him. But I kept reminding myself how they probably hated me now any way. Best to stay away and not make things any worse again.

So I spent my weeks drinking, smoking and doing odd jobs for dads friends for cash. Turns out when I fully commit myself over to his wasted lifestyle, he's not completely ashamed of me. 

"Maybe you are my son after all." He'd said when I told him I was done with school and he found me smoking on the sofa in the middle of the day. The surprised expression on his face when I agreed to help him on a small job had me feeling a small sense of pride, even if it was mixed heavily with a sinking feeling of disappointment at myself.

When I wasn't smoking or drinking to numb my thoughts, I've been saving what little money I could to pick up scrap pieces from the salvage yard and working on a little project. Who would have thought having a hobby would clear my mind without the help of getting drunk or high?

I'd just gotten out of the shower after washing away the grease off my hands, that I had somehow managed to get all over my clothes and body, when I heard my phone ringing in my bedroom.