LXX.   chasing after our ends

The next day, Logan went to the Chateau looking for Big John. He was dressed in cargo shorts and an old shirt, his fishing gear in the back of his car. He exited the Cadillac and was glad to see the man walking towards the Twinkie. "Hey, Johnny!" He called out, making Big John came to a halt. "You and John B wanna go fishin'? I've been looking for an excuse to whip out my old rod. Braxton's too into playing Call of Duty and Dylan's. . well, she's somewhere."

"Uhhh," Big John hesitated, looking towards the home. "That, uh, sounds great Logan, but, we can't right now. John B and I got something to do."

"Oh," Logan said and nodded. "Like what?"

"Just some father and son bonding time. Haven't had that in a while." The man said, avoiding his eyes suspiciously. "John B, let's go, boy!"

Logan saw him carrying his backpack, the same one he carried since he got back. John B came out of the Chateau and he paused upon seeing the man. "Mr. Jennings, what are you doing here?"

"Well, I came by to see if you both wanted to do some fishing today, but. . . your dad says you're busy," Logan explained, still eyeing his friend. "What do y'all got planned, JB?"

John B glanced at his dad, his father giving him a look. "We're just, uh," he hesitated on what to say. "Um. . ."

"Quite frankly, it's none of your business, Logan. Now can we go, please? We don't have a lot of time," Big John stepped in.

His defensive, the secretiveness, made Logan ponder, and then he understood. He laughed. "You're still on this damn treasure hunt, aren't you?" He said and rubbed his forehead. "John B, why don't you go back inside the house? I need to talk to your dad."

"Uhhh—"

"No, John B, we're leaving. Get in the van," Big John ordered his son.

"Go inside the house," Logan demanded, visibly getting angry.

John B looked back and forth between them, the man who was his father and the man who practically raised him like a father. He loved them both, so he was confused. But ultimately, he turned around and went back to the house.

"So I spend a year of my life thinking your dead, mourning my best friend, and then you finally come back, get to be with your son again, and you're just gonna take off?" Logan lectured, his voice getting high. He scoffed in disbelief. "God damn, John, when's it gonna stop? When you actually die?"

"It ain't none of your business, Logan!"

"And you're gonna drag John B into it? Put his life in danger?" He continued, pointing his finger at the Chateau. "No, it's not gonna happen, John. I watched that boy cry himself to sleep over you! I'm not gonna let you keep hurting him!"

"You don't know what you're talking about, Logan and it ain't your god damn place to tell me what to do with my kid!" Big John yelled at him, red in the face. "You have no say! Okay, he's not your boy."

Logan stood there in disbelief, breathing in and out deeply. His mouth was gaped, face frozen as he tried to process. This was a man who was his best friend since high school, a man he did everything with, who his children adored, and his child he loved. But Logan didn't recognize him right now. It was like they were strangers. Suddenly he laughed and rubbed his jaw. "I have no say. He's not my boy," he recited Big John's words like they were hilarious. "Right. Okay. He's not my boy. He wasn't my boy any of the times he spent the night at my house or I'd take him fishing with me. He wasn't my boy when he was in kindergarten and he scraped his knee trying to learn how to skateboard and I cleaned him up. He wasn't my boy when I started looking after him when you became obsessed with this fucking treasure,"

Big John's face fell. At that point, John B had came out of the house again but stood on the porch.

The laughter had stopped and Logan's face was bright red. "He wasn't my boy when he'd come stay with me whenever you two would fight because he trusted me to be there for him. Or when you took off and abandoned him and he basically lived with me and my family!" He shouted. "He wasn't my boy when I did everything in power to keep him from going to jail or facing the death penalty! Or any of the times he told me he loved me and that he was grateful to have me in his life because lets me honest, Johnny, I'm the only consistent father figure he's had for over a year. So you're wrong. He is my boy. He may be your son but he's my boy!"

A silence buzzed and Logan laughed again, rubbing his red and hot face. Big John stood there in silence, looking between him and his son who was listening to the whole thing.

"Go find your treasure, Johnny. Fulfill this fucking need to be a hero and have all the money in the world if that's what you want. If that's more important than being a father and my best friend," Logan continued and stated backing up. "I don't recognize you anymore."

John B ran down the steps. "Mr. Jennings," he said, watching the man walk back to his car. "Logan, I'm sorry!"

"John B, we gotta go," said his dad, turning around and getting into the Twinkie.

He stood there vulnerably, Logan driving away and John B felt the weights on his shoulders crush him even more.

Dylan was having mixed emotions. Big John being backed was huge, not only to her but to her family as well, especially her dad. His mood was completely different. He was happier. Calmer. But losing the cross made things significantly harder. They've lost so much already. She was tired of losing and now Pope was suffering because of it. He just wanted justice. That's all she ever wanted to give him.

"Alright Cleo, it's time for me to teach you the art of smoothie making," Logan announced, standing in the kitchen with Cleo.

"Oh, my gosh, Cleo. You're about to become an expert," Ainsley said dramatically and sat down at the island. "Logan, honey, I thought you were gonna go fishing,"

Her dad licked his lips slightly. "Uh, no. Not today. John B and Johnny are, uh, having a father and son day," he explained, clearing his throat. He clapped his hands. "Okay! Cleo, if you wanna start cutting the fruits for me that would be splendid."

Dylan, sitting in the living room with her brother, looked over the couch. "Don't corrupt her too much, daddy!" She yelled.

Logan raised a hand in her direction. "Would you please have faith in me, Celeste? Nobody makes a better smoothie than me. Not even that bougie ass smoothie shop next to the hotel."

Cleo slipped out a laugh. She was in the middle of cutting mangos. "What's the next step then, Mr. Jennings?"

"Logan, sweetheart, please. All of my daughter's friends call me Logan," he told her and rubbed his hands together. "Alright, first step and always the most important step, have fresh fruits. Lucky for me, the people down at the market know me and always have the best waiting for me. Mangos are my favorite—"

"So are mine," Cleo agreed and ate a piece.

"—but it's always hard to keep them around when my son likes to sneak in here and eat them all." He emphasizes and his eyes trailed back to the living room.

Braxton, lying down on the couch while playing video games on his iPad, quickly sat up. "That was one time!"

"No, it was the first time I caught you."

Dylan chuckled and kicked her brother's foot with her hand.

"Moving on. Okay, Cleo, once we have all the duet cut up and assembled, I personally like to add almond milk. It makes it taste sweeter. Right, Ains?"

The woman nodded. "I concur."

Logan poured the milk into the blender. "Alright, then we add the ice—" he had Cleo dump the ice inside. "perfect. Then we add the fruits. And my next personal flare to making the perfect smoothie," he continued and walked over to the upper cabinet.

"Chia seeds," his family said simultaneously.

Logan smiled widely, holding up the container of chia seeds. "Precisely."

Ainsley laughed. "You never get used to it," she said to Cleo, making the girl smile.

The doorbell went off. "I'll get it," said Dylan. She hopped off the couch and walked through the hallway, passing the staircase and she opened the front door. She smiled when she saw Sarah standing on the other side. "Hey, Sarah."

"Hey, DJ," Sarah responded, not looking as happy.

"What's the matter? What happened?"

"Umm. . ." The girl trailed. "John B and I kind of got into a fight and, uh, I've been struggling to find a place to stay."

"What?" Dylan emphasized. She moved out of the way so she could walk in. "Come in."

Sarah entered the home. "Rafe's at Tannyhill so I obviously can't go there, and Kie's parent wouldn't let me stay. I-I just don't know what to do—"

"Hey, it's alright," Dylan said and put a gentle hand on her arm. She motioned her head to the kitchen door. "Come on."

The two of them walked down the entrance hall and Dylan pushed open the kitchen door, all of them looking over and Ainsley smiled brightly at Sarah. "Sarah, sweetheart."

"Hey there, Sarah," Logan greeted. "What brings you by?"

"Uhhh," Sarah started to say but then she stopped. She glanced Dylan's way.

"Sarah's wondering if she can stay with us for a few days," Dylan asked her parents, giving her a reassuring smile.

Logan and Ainsley looked at each other. "Is everything okay?" The mother asked.

"N-Not exactly," Sarah answered sheepishly.

There was a silence. Dylan reached over and grabbed her hand. Ainsley still looked at her husband but it seemed like she didn't need to think twice, and she gave the girl a smile. "Of course you can stay, honey."

Logan waved her over. "Come on over here, Sarah. I was in the middle of teaching Cleo how to make the perfect Jennings smoothie."

Dylan smiled as Sarah walked into the kitchen, standing on the other side of him. Braxton got off his iPad and ran into the kitchen. "There any mangos left?"

"Nope. All in the blender, small fry," Cleo answered and clicked on the blender, flinching at the loud noise.

She sat next to her mom at the island. Dylan took out her phone and texted John B.

DJ 🌊🤞🏻
are you okay, B?
call me, please
I'm worried about you

"YOU DID WHAT?"

"I quit school."

Dylan smacked him upside the head.

"Ow, DJ! Stop!" Pope hissed and slapped her hand away.

"Who are you and what have you done with Pope Heyward?" She said sarcastically and sat her hands on her hips. "You can't quit school, Pope. You have a future."

He had been sweeping water off of the dock. "I don't have a future anymore, DJ." He dismissed, turning his back to her.

Dylan scoffed. "That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard you say—"

Pope dropped the broom and faced her again. "Look what's happened to us, Dylan!" He raised his voice. "Okay, we lost everything! I missed too many days of school and I can't catch back up. It's over for me, DJ. It's probably over for you, too!"

"That's not true, Pope," she said and walked forward, putting her hands on his face. "Look, we can figure something out. We can talk to the school. But quitting? That's not like you. We have the chance to get our lives back on track."

He grabbed her hands and lowered them from his face. "No. Okay? It's over."

Dylan stood her ground. "There are more scholarships out there, P. So what if you have to take lower level classes? You're smart as hell, you can handle it. I don't understand why you're giving up?" She raised her voice that time, his ignorance angering her.

JJ's voice cut through their disagreement. "Pope!" He yelled and the couple turned their heads, seeing him running down the dock. Dylan noticed that he was dripping wet head to toe. "Yo! Bombshell—" he noticed the tension between them. "Wait, what's going on? What happened? Detecting a real heavy vibe? What's going on?"

"Just Pope being an idiot," she seethed.

"I'm not being an idiot. I'm being realistic!" He argued.

"This is some really bad deja vu," JJ muttered while still panting. "Okay, why are you guys arguing?"

Dylan crossed her arms, still glaring at her boyfriend. "Pope's quitting school, AKA destroying his future."

"It was already destroyed."

"Being a coroner's kind of weird anyway, bro."

They both glared at him. "Shut up, wrench dick,"

Dylan slapped him hard on the shoulder. "You're not helping."

"Right, great. So it's definitely not time for this. Okay, shit."

"What?" Pope said.

"Why are you so frantic?"

"I was down at Guffy's, all right? I was trying to get my job back. And I see the catty across my way, and on it. . .is Rafe and Berry," JJ explained with heavy breaths.

Dylan slowly dropped her arms.

"I snuck over to hear what they're talking about. Pope, he has the cross."

"Of course he does. He tricked us—"

"No, no, DJ. You don't understand. He melted it down."

The news caused Dylan to feet like weights were tied around her feet and she was drowning. She slumped over, feeling faint, and her hands covered her mouth.

Pope stood up.

"I'm sorry, bro."

"Pope—"

"FUCK!" He screamed over the dock, causing both her and JJ to flinch. He pushed himself away from the dock and began pacing. "Of course it was Rafe,"

"Yeah, I mean, we probably could've guessed that," said JJ, taking a seat on the cooler.

"Yeah but melting it down? That's sinister shit," Dylan said out loud and shuddered.

"The Cross of Santo Domingo, desecrated! For money? God!" He cried out.

"I know. I think we need to stay calm to make a plan, but we gotta stay—"

He cut JJ off by breaking the broom on the dock. Dylan jumped. "Pope," she said with a cracked voice, his actions scaring her.

"Getting better at that." JJ finished.

He went back to his pacing. "This is messed up, man. Even for them."

"Couldn't agree more, man."

"They're just gonna keep getting away with it! They're gonna keep doing that. They're gonna keep winning."

"I mean, Pope? Is that news to you?" JJ asked rhetorically.

"JJ, please."

"What, DJ? You know it's true."

"I know, but you're not helping him by riling him up, either!" She almost yelled. She looked back at Pope. "P, maybe we can go to my dad. He probably knows how to handle this—"

"No," Pope said harshly, making her go quiet. "I'm sick of being the good guy."

He walked away from both of them. JJ and Dylan met each other's eyes before she quickly chased after him. "Hey, Pope," she said, following him through the store. "Pope, hold on. Talk to me, please." She tried to remain as calm as possible but on the inside, she was terrified.

Pope still didn't answer her. The boy circled around counter and ducked, grabbing something from the register. He felt her eyes on him, they burned holes in his skin, but he continued walking out of the building.

Dylan was hot on his heels. She watched him put the pistol in his shorts. "Pope, stop! Please!" She yelled and picked up her face. She reached for his shoulder and tugged on it, making him stop and she turned him around. "I need you to calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down, D." He said roughly, avoiding eye contact with her.

"You're hurt, and you're angry, I know that. I completely get it. But Pope, you're gonna end up doing something that'll ruin your life—"

"Dylan, please, I gotta go!" He yelled at her.

"I'm not letting you get hurt!" Dylan shouted, her voice breaking. "You and Rafe don't exactly have the best track record when you encounter each other. He's a psycho, Pope. He's gonna hurt you!"

Pope's eyes turned dark. "Not if I hurt him first," he spoke grimly.

Dylan inhaled a sharp breath. "I know how this ends if you do what I think you'll do, P," she said slowly, her eyes glossing over. "And I really, really, really don't wanna live in a world where you're not here if you do this."

The two of them stood there in silence, Pope's breathing heavy and rigid while she pleaded with him, on the verge of tears, to stay with her. She knew how the world worked, especially for kids like them. Rafe Cameron was a lot of things: rich, male, white, everything that deemed him untouchable in the world. Pope wasn't rich, he wasn't white, the world wasn't on his side. Dylan was terrified of what the world would do to him if he acted on his intentions.

But Pope still had a mind of his own. "I gotta go," he muttered and turned back around, walking away from her. "I love you." He called out over his shoulder.

"Pope, please don't!" She yelled with another break in her voice. Dylan watched him run away and she covered her mouth, slowly crouching down on the pavement.

Dylan remained at Heyward's with JJ, the two of them helping clean up while Andrea cooked on the grill. Her stomach was in painful knots that the thought of food nearly made her vomit. But she kept her composure. Neither Heyward nor Andrea knew where their son was and she was having the hardest time telling them what he was going to do.

She put a stack of plates on the picnic table after almost dropping them, her hands shaking terribly. JJ came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Hey, he'll come back. It's okay. Stop worrying," he whispered.

"You don't get it, J. I'm scared for him," she whispered back, popping her fingers.

JJ bit his lip and loosened his arms around her, rubbing her shoulders instead.

"Hey, have you heard from John B? I've been trying to reach him, but he won't answer." She asked him, unstacking the plates into two piles.

"Uh, no. I haven't seen him." He muttered back.

"I appreciate the help, you two," said Andrea, the smell of her barbecue mouth watering.

"You know I ain't missing Mrs. Heyward's cooking," said JJ while wiping down the table and he smiled.

"Unlike my derelict son. He's usually home by now," she waved the tongs in her hand. "Dylan, baby, where is he?"

Dylan looked at the woman and clenched her jaw. "Uh, I-I don't know, Mrs. Heyward. He hadn't answered my texts," she explained, her eyes cutting to JJ for a quick second, then she faked a smile. "But I'm sure he'll be here any second."

Heyward came out of the store. "Either one of y'all moved the pistol from in there? The one I keep under the register?" He asked the teenagers.

Her stomach did a somersault. Dylan avoided the men's eye, surely knowing that he would be able to read her facial expressions. She gulped.

"JJ?"

JJ held up his hand. "Whoa, okay. I didn't touch it. Okay?" He swore.

"Yeah, well somebody did. Cause it's gone!" Heyward raged. He watched Dylan take JJ's rag and continued wiping down the table. "DJ?"

The girl froze. Instantly, she met JJ's gaze, the blonde boy sharing the same expression. Dylan tightened her jaw again. "No, Mr. Heyward, I don't take it," she answered, trying to keep her voice from wavering.

Lying to her own parents was one thing. Lying to Pope's parents crushed her entirely.

Dylan waited for them to go back inside the shop. Once they were out of ear shot, she quickly went around the table. "Pope has it. Pope took the gun," she whispered frantically to JJ.

"He's going after Rafe," JJ realized.

"What do we do?"

"I-I-I'll check Tannyhill."

Dylan nodded. "Okay, okay, uhh. . .I-I'll search the marina." She stuttered, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Hey," he said and put his hands on her shoulders. "Don't worry, okay? We'll find him." He assured her.

She nodded again, not having the strength to tell him all of her worries. "Be careful." She warned before the two of them split up.

If there was any two people who knew each other better in the world, it was Dylan and Pope. She knew it, he knew, and everybody else did too. They thought alike, they moved the same, they were one. Dylan knew him in her soul. Pope was smart, tactile, always their voice of reason. That's what she loved about him.

Rafe hurt them. He dimmed her light that she worked so hard to get back. He made them feel inferior, uncomfortable in their own skin. And he kept hurting them. Dylan was tired of it. The last thing she ever wanted was for Pope to lose himself, especially to Rafe Cameron.

By the time she ran all the way to Guffy's, the sun had disappeared from the sky. She wasn't out of breath but she was panting in a state of hysteria. For all she knew, Pope could've already pulled the trigger. Maybe Rage was already dead. Maybe he disposed his body. Or maybe — Dylan slapped the side of her head. "Shut up!" She told herself.

At some point in her life, maybe she would help him do it. Dylan was certain if she wanted to, she could get rid of a body without leaving evidence. But right now, all she could think about was keeping Pope safe.

She sprinted around the dock, looking all around her for Pope, and she paused when she saw him at the end of the dock. He sat on the cooler, staring directly at the boat where Rafe stood on the phone, and his father's gun was pointed at him. Her heart pounded at a high rate, her stomach twisting again. "Pope," she started softly, taking slow and steady steps toward him. "I know what you're thinking, okay? That this is gonna make you feel better. But babe, it's not."

"I don't care," she heard him say, his voice choppy like he was crying.

The closer she got, the clearer she saw that he was shaking. He was scared, he was vengeful. "Don't just think about yourself in this situation, P," Dylan continued to speak softly. She stood behind him, seeing the gun shake in his trembling hands. "Think about your parents. They would be devastated."

"I think they'd understand how I'm feeling," he sniffled. "For once he would lose like we always do. It doesn't matter anyway. I've lost everything."

It hurt her to hear him say it. Pope Heyward was a boy full of life, a boy full of love. He was the brightest light, the sun reflecting on the ocean, a light that warmed her. But right now he was the moon, something cold and dark, a daunting sight.

Dylan sank to her knees beside him, eyes trained on the side of his face where she saw tears fall. "I've known you since I was twelve years old. In that entire time when life hadn't gone our way, when things are changing, you've always been the same. You're everything good that this world has to offer, P. You're the light in the darkness. You're the calm in the chaos. You hate so much in your life that makes you who you are. Your family, our friends, me." Tears filled her own eyes. Dylan turned her head, watching Rafe walk around the catamaran, still on the phone. She tightened her jaw, clenched her teeth, and shook her head. "Rafe's taken so much from you, but don't let him take away what's most important. Don't let him take away your morality."

She crept her hand up and placed it on his shoulder, Pope flinching under her touch, and he cried more.

"I can't stop you from doing this, but just know if you do, I'll be right here with you." She whispered. Dylan slowly brought her other hand up his back and around his other shoulder. "Don't let him darken you, Pope."

Finally, Pope lowered the gun and cried. He slumped against her and Dylan tightened her grip on him. She placed her hand on the right side of his face and she kissed his cheek. "I love you," she whispered. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

The gun fell to the ground. Pope whimpered and turned around, holding her close to him and she reciprocated. Dylan closed her eyes, choking back a cue and she rubbed his back, pressing her other hand to the back of his head. "I got you, P. I've always got you." She pulled away slightly so they could see each others Dylan held his face in her hands. I love you so much." She said and kissed him gently before holding him again. He laid his head on her shoulder and felt his gears wet her shoulder like rainfall hitting the ocean waves.