Tides of the Heart

Chapter One: The Pogues of the Outer Banks

The Outer Banks, Paradise on earth. It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island. It's a place of golden sands, turquoise waves, and an invisible line dividing the town's haves and have-nots. On one side, the Kooks—polished, privileged, and wealthy. On the other, the Pogues—gritty, resourceful, and united by the shared weight of their struggles.

For John B and Liv Routledge, the Pogues weren't just a group of friends—they were family.

The Routledge home sat on the edge of the marsh, a weathered shack with peeling white paint and a hammock that swayed gently in the ocean breeze. Liv was sprawled out in it now, her long brown hair falling in messy waves over her shoulders as she balanced a sketchbook on her knees. Her sun-kissed skin bore the faintest traces of freckles, and a smudge of charcoal stained her fingers, a testament to hours spent drawing.

Nearby, John B knelt on the wooden deck, waxing his surfboard with practiced care. His sandy-blond hair, perpetually tousled by saltwater and wind, caught the sunlight as he worked. Tall and lean, he moved with the ease of someone who had grown up by the sea, every motion second nature.

"You're wasting a perfectly good wave day," John B said, glancing up at her with a teasing grin.

Liv shot him a smirk, twirling her pencil. "Not all of us need to paddle out to feel alive, you know. Some of us like to relax."

"Relaxing's overrated," he replied, pulling the wax across the board with long, deliberate strokes.

Liv chuckled, but her smile faltered as her gaze drifted toward the dock. The family's boat, the HMS Pogue, bobbed lazily in the water, still waiting for Big John's return. It had been months since their father disappeared, and though John B clung to the hope that he'd come back, Liv wasn't so sure.

The rumble of an old dirt bike pulled her from her thoughts. JJ Maybank, with his wild blonde hair and mischievous grin, skidded to a stop in front of the house.

JJ was the jokester and troubled one, often dealt with an abusive father at home, but he rarely talked about it with the group, hiding his pain behind jokes.

"Morning, Routledges!" he called, swinging off the bike. His eyes flicked to Liv, and she felt the familiar flutter in her chest. She quickly looked away, pretending to focus on her sketchbook.

"Finally!" John B said, standing and clapping JJ on the shoulder. "Where've you been?"

"Fixing this beast," JJ replied, patting the handlebars of his bike. "And by fixing, I mean duct-taping it back together."

Liv laughed softly. JJ always had a knack for turning his troubles into a joke, but she knew better than to ask too many questions.

Before JJ could launch into another story, the familiar honk of an old van echoed down the dirt road. The van screeched to a halt, and Kiara Carrera and Pope Heyward spilled out, carrying snacks and a boombox.

Kiara, her dark curls framing her face in a wild cascade, lived on the kook side but had been kicked out by her parents after refusing to follow their rules and was now living with John B and Liv.

Pope, with his lean build and sharp, intelligent eyes, was the brains and glue of the group, he worked for his dad during the week, helping out at Heyward's seafood stand and handling inventory. His dark skin glowed under the sun, and his closely cropped hair always seemed perfectly in place, a subtle reflection of his meticulous nature.

"Party's here!" Kiara declared, tossing a bag of chips at John B.

Pope grinned, adjusting the strap of his backpack. "We figured you'd be slacking off, so we brought reinforcements."