The trailer smelled like cigarettes and stale beer. Zoe stood just inside the doorway, her whole body frozen in place. Barry was at the counter, grip tight around a bottle of whiskey, his knuckles white. His jaw was clenched, shoulders squared like he was bracing for a fight.

And sitting on the couch, like he belonged there—Was their father. "Zoe." Her dad's voice still had that rough edge to it, like every word had to scrape its way out of his throat. It had been years since she'd seen him. Years since the cops had dragged him off, since Barry swore they were finally free of him.

Yet here he was. Her stomach churned. "What are you doing here?" Her voice came out sharper than she expected, but she didn't care. Her dad just smirked, leaning back like this was some kind of casual visit. "That any way to greet your old man?"

"You're not my dad," she shot back, heart hammering. "You never were." Something flickered in his eyes. Annoyance? Amusement? She couldn't tell. But what she did know was that she wanted to be anywhere but here.

Barry, still gripping the whiskey, cut in before their dad could say another word. "She don't need to see you." His voice was low, dangerous. Their dad let out a slow, mocking chuckle. "Relax, boy. Just came to say hello. No harm in that, right?"

Zoe's fingers curled into fists. He always did this—acted like he was just checking in, like he hadn't left bruises on their skin and fear in their bones. "I should go," she muttered, backing toward the door.

Her dad tilted his head, his smirk fading. "Running away again, kid?" Her throat tightened. Barry shot their dad a look that could've burned straight through him. "She ain't running. She's leaving. There's a difference."

Zoe didn't wait for more. She turned and walked out, each step feeling heavier than the last.

The moment she walked into the Chateau, she knew she wasn't acting right. She felt off. Her limbs were heavy, her stomach twisted in knots, and she could barely focus on what anyone was saying. The boys were talking about the gold, about where to go next, but their voices felt distant.

Even JJ, who was usually the loudest, felt far away. It was Kiara who noticed first. "Zoe," she said, nudging her. "What's wrong?" Zoe swallowed.

Her instinct was to say nothing. To push it down like she always did, to bury it like she had to when she was younger. But something about the way Kie looked at her—concerned, but not pitying—made it harder to lie.

She exhaled. "My dad's back." The room went still. John B and Pope stopped talking. JJ, who had been spinning a lighter between his fingers, stilled completely.

Kie's face darkened. "Wait—what?" Zoe forced a shrug. "Yeah. Guess he's out now. Just showed up at the trailer like nothing happened." No one spoke at first. Then JJ scoffed. "Well, that's just f—king great."

Zoe looked over at him, and that's when she realized—he understood. His shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched, and there was something in his eyes that was way too familiar.

JJ exhaled sharply and stood, grabbing his beer. "You wanna talk about it, or you wanna pretend it didn't happen?" Zoe hesitated.

Then, finally, she stood, following him out to the porch.

They sat on the old wooden steps, beer bottles resting between them. The night was quiet except for the occasional rustling of the trees.

JJ took a sip of his drink before glancing over at her. "So. Your dad's back." Zoe let out a humorless laugh. "Lucky me."  JJ hummed, running a hand through his hair. "Is he still a piece of sh*t?"

Zoe huffed. "What do you think?" JJ smirked at that, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Guess that answers that." They fell silent for a moment, the weight of their thoughts settling between them.

Then Zoe, hesitant, asked, "What about your dad?"
JJ tensed for a second. Then he exhaled, leaning back on his elbows. "Same old, same old. He's either gone or throwing punches. Not much in between."

Zoe nodded. She figured.bShe hesitated before saying, "Barry used to take most of it. When we were kids." JJ looked over at her.

She stared at her bottle. "I used to feel guilty about it. Like, he was protecting me, but at the same time, I hated that he had to." JJ nodded, understanding. "Yeah. Been there."

Zoe swallowed. "It's weird, you know? How you can hate someone and still... I don't know. Wish they were better." JJ sighed, shaking his head. "Yeah. I get that too."

She looked over at him, and for the first time, she realized how similar they were. Not just in the way they grew up, but in the way they carried it—the weight of things they shouldn't have had to bear.

She nudged his foot with hers. "Guess we're both a little messed up, huh?" JJ smirked. "Little? Try a lot."
Zoe let out a small laugh, and for the first time that night, she felt like she could breathe again.

JJ took another sip of his drink before saying, "You know we got your back, right?" Zoe nodded. "Yeah. I know." And for the first time in a long time—she actually believed it.

After her talk with JJ on the porch, Zoe stayed at the Chateau for a while longer. The rest of the Pogues had clearly noticed she wasn't herself, so they did what they always did—distracted her.

Pope and John B threw together some half-burnt marshmallows for s'mores. Kie made her sit between her and JJ on the couch, arm casually slung around Zoe's shoulder like a silent I got you.

At some point, John B cracked a joke about JJ's terrible fishing skills, which turned into a full-blown argument over who actually caught the biggest fish last summer. Pope, ever the referee, fact-checked them both with exaggerated hand motions and dramatic retellings of the event.

By the time Zoe was laughing—really laughing—she realized how much she needed this.

She leaned into Kiara, sighing. "I don't deserve you guys." Kie squeezed her shoulder. "Damn right, you don't. We're way too good for you." Zoe rolled her eyes but smiled. Pope pointed his stick at her. "For real, though. You don't have to go back tonight."

Zoe hesitated. The idea of staying—of ignoring her dad's existence entirely—was tempting. But she couldn't. She wasn't a runner.

And as much as she hated it, Barry was still there. She exhaled. "I'll be fine." JJ gave her a look. "You sure?" No. But she nodded anyway. "Yeah."

Zoe pushed the door open slowly, stepping inside like she was walking into a lion's den. The place was dark, but she could hear the faint sound of the TV buzzing. And then—

"You think you can just come and go whenever the hell you want?" Her father's voice was sharp, cutting through the air like glass.

Zoe's entire body tensed. She glanced around, not seeing Barry anywhere. He always made himself scarce when their dad was around. Smart.

Zoe forced a breath. "I don't owe you an explanation." Her dad scoffed, pushing himself up from the couch. "You got some mouth on you, girl."

Zoe stood her ground, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "What do you care? You weren't here for years. But now you wanna play dad?" She let out a dry laugh. "That's rich." His expression darkened.

"That how you talk to the man who raised you?" he asked, voice eerily calm. Zoe's jaw clenched. "Raised me? You didn't raise me. Barry did." The moment the words left her mouth, she knew she messed up.

Her father stepped closer, and she instinctively took a step back. Outside, Barry was talking to Rafe, sealing some kind of deal over god-knows-what. Rafe leaned against his bike, barely paying attention, until—

A loud crash. Barry's head snapped toward the trailer. Then—

"Don't you talk back to me, girl!" Rafe straightened up. "The hell was that?" Barry's face went blank for half a second before realization set in.

Zoe. Before either of them thought, Barry was already moving, pushing the door open just in time to see— Their dad, looming over Zoe, his face twisted in anger.

Zoe holding her cheek, her breathing sharp and shallow. And Rafe, right behind Barry, seeing all of it. For a moment, there was silence. Then—

"What the f—k do you think you're doing?" Rafe's voice was low, dangerous. Zoe's dad turned, barely sparing him a glance. "Ain't your business, boy."

Barry stepped forward, jaw clenched. "Like hell it isn't." Rafe wasn't thinking. He just moved. Before Zoe's dad could say another word, Rafe was shoving him—hard—against the wall.

"You like putting your hands on girls, huh?" Rafe's voice was venomous, his grip tight on the man's collar. "You think that makes you a big man?"

Zoe's dad struggled against him, but Rafe didn't let go. Zoe was frozen. She'd never seen Rafe like this—not when he was trying to intimidate people for fun, not when he was pissed off at the world. This was different.

Barry didn't interfere. He just stood there, watching.

Zoe's dad huffed, rubbing his neck, but he didn't fight back. Maybe he was smarter than he looked.
Barry finally stepped in. "Go to bed, old man." His voice was firm, eyes cold. "Now."

For once, their dad actually listened.

Zoe stepped out onto the porch, her hands still shaking. Rafe followed, exhaling sharply. "You good?" Zoe scoffed. "What do you think?" Rafe leaned against the railing, running a hand through his hair. "He's a f—king piece of sh*t."

She let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah. Tell me something I don't know." A pause. Then, softer—

"That happen a lot?" Zoe hesitated. She should've lied. Should've brushed it off, made a joke, done anything but tell the truth. Instead, she just said, "More than it should've."

Rafe was quiet. Then, without thinking, he muttered, "I get it." Zoe turned to him, confused. "What?" Rafe clenched his jaw, eyes distant. "My dad. He—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter."

Zoe studied him for a long moment. This was new. This Rafe—the one not laced with arrogance, not high on adrenaline, not looking for a fight. Just him.

And she hated to admit it, but she believed him. She swallowed hard. "Kinda messed up, huh? That we just get used to it." Rafe let out a dry laugh. "Yeah. F—ked up, actually." Another beat of silence.

Then— Without really thinking, Zoe leaned into him just slightly. And Rafe, for some reason, let her.
He didn't pull away. Didn't make some snide comment. Didn't ruin the moment with his usual Rafe-ness.

Instead, he did something that surprised both of them. He pulled her into a hug. Not a quick, awkward one. A real one. Arms wrapped around her tightly, like he actually meant it.

And Zoe—who never let herself break, never let herself be vulnerable—sank into him, just for a second. Just long enough to let herself feel it. And for once, she didn't feel so alone.