𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘; brother

1.7K 39 17
                                    

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

          𝐖e are born to make loving bonds and to suffer when they're tested

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.





          𝐖e are born to make loving bonds and to suffer when they're tested.

Marlowe's childhood friendship with the boys is among her earliest memories, among her fondest ones. Siblings of the summer sun when each long holiday came around, siblings who sailed the storms and calm waters as co-captains.

They're meant to be tested. Pushed and strained and stretched. Because, what's a strong bond, if it can't weather the deadliest of hurricanes on the open sea? If it can't endure the greatest challenges this world has to offer?

So, as her gaze flows across the quiet saltwater twinkling in the sunset, she doesn't let the lump in her throat knock her down. After all, this is not a goodbye. It's a see you later.

That very faraway stare drifts to the docked boat awaiting its passenger's arrival. They're all waiting. And they have been for an unnervingly long time.

"Where is he?" Kiara urges impatiently.

Sirens blare in the distance.

"Give him a second," Pope expresses. "He'll be here."

JJ finishes preparing the Phantom for departure. "He's coming. He'll be fine."

Marlowe leans against the SUV, arms crossed, observing her three best friends by the dock. She's thankful, after all they've been through, to have these people still standing by her side. Someone to turn to. To lean on. Her best friends in the whole damn world.

Except for one.

When a Kildare Police cruiser speeds through the clearing, she feels her heart skip a beat.

"Shit," she hisses, pushing away from the vehicle behind her to stand up straight. "We got company."

"JJ?" Kiara turns to the boy.

"Hey, yeah," the mentioned stresses. "Get back on the boat. Untie it."

The door of the cruiser opens before they can move an inch. A familiar mess of brown locks steps out of the driver's seat. He readjusts his backpack, offering no recognition in terms of their bewildered reactions.

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋'𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃, jj maybankWhere stories live. Discover now