How Far We Came [Jackson J. Genrette] (Outer Banks AU)

The morning sun painted Figure Eight in shades of gold, casting long shadows across the manicured lawns of the Cameron estate.

Jackson J. Genrette—JJ to everyone except his mother when she was furious—lounging by the pool, his shirt unbuttoned over his swim trunks. Beside him, Rafe Cameron was already on his second energy drink of the morning.

"Your mom's gonna flip if you skip the first period again," Rafe said, not bothering to hide his smirk. "Even if she is the coolest single mom in Figure Eight."

JJ ran a hand through his sun-bleached hair, a gesture so similar to his mother's it was uncanny. Larissa Genrette had raised him alone since he was 4, building her clinical practice from scratch while juggling a toddler.

Now she was Figure Eight's most sought-after Docter, and JJ had grown up watching her turn their life into something extraordinary through sheer determination.

"Mom gets it," JJ shrugged, though guilt pricked at his conscience. "She worked through college with a baby. She always says I'm allowed to take breaks as long as I don't give up."

The sliding glass door opened, and Sarah Cameron emerged, her school bag slung over one shoulder. Her eyes met JJ's for a brief moment before darting away. The awkwardness of their recent breakup still lingered in the air, though they knew now that they only loved each other as family.

"Some of us care about school," Sarah said, watching Pope and Kiara pass by on their morning jog along the beach path below. The two Kooks pointedly ignored the Pogues, just as they always had. There was an unspoken boundary that even Sarah, for all her occasional rebellious tendencies, never crossed.

JJ sat up, suddenly serious. "Mom's already planning a gigantic birthday party. She says it's to celebrate me, but I think she just wants to show all those country club snobs that a single mom who had a kid at nineteen can raise a halfway decent human."

Rafe moved closer, their shoulders touching. "More than halfway decent," he murmured, quiet enough that Sarah couldn't hear.

Sarah rolled her eyes at their obvious flirting. "You two are impossible. And JJ, you're still on for the gala this weekend, right? Someone's gotta help me dodge all those setup attempts by Rose's friends."

JJ Point of view

"Wouldn't miss it, Barbie," i grinned at our old nickname—a relic of 11 years of friendship when his mom made them dress as Ken and barbie for Halloween at 7 years old.

Everyone thinks it from our six months. We just never told them differently.

"Whatever, Ken," she shot back, but her smile was genuine. "Just try not to spend the entire night making eyes at my brother."

My phone buzzed with a text from his mom: "Sunshine, I know you're skipping. Just make it count. Love you more than all the stars. 

P.S. Take pictures if you and Rafe finally get your act together." 

 "That's not going to happen"

" Whatever you say, Love" 

I rolled my eyes. ' honestly what's wrong with the surrounding women?'

I smiled, feeling that familiar surge of gratitude. Mama had been nineteen when she'd had him, barely more than a kid herself. But she'd given up her wild child days, thrown herself into her studies, and built them a life that wasn't because of her family name, our family name. She'd taught him that family wasn't about fitting someone else's mold—it was about loving fiercely and without apology.

"Earth to J," Rafe's voice cut through his thoughts. "You're doing that thing again where you get all deep and philosophical. Just like your mom."

"Can't help it," I laughed, turning to face him. "It's in my DNA."

Sarah made a gagging noise. "And that's my cue. Try not to be too obvious when you finally kiss, okay? I'm still adjusting to the idea that my brother might be dating my ex."

" We are not dating, Sare,", "Yeah, sure, whatever you say.".. Bitch

As she headed off to her car, I caught Rafe's eye. The morning sun through the window turned his best friend's eyes to a sky blue, and across the beach, I could see Pope and Kiara disappearing around the bend—a reminder of the social boundaries that had always divided their world into neat categories.