warnings: mdni, smut, mentions of abuse, murder and drinking
word count: 8k
previous
The key turned without resistance.
You had expected the lock to stick or the door to groan loudly enough to wake half the motel. Instead, Room 23 opened as though someone had been waiting for you.
You remained outside for several seconds.
The Marshview Motor Lodge looked worse up close than it had from across the road. Hurricane Agatha had torn several shingles from the roof and shattered one of the office windows. The vacancy sign hung crooked above the parking lot, only three letters still illuminated.
No cars sat outside the surrounding rooms. No voices carried through the thin walls.
You stepped inside and shut the door behind you.
The room smelled of damp carpet and stale air.
A narrow bed occupied most of the space. Beside it sat a scratched nightstand, an unplugged lamp, and a plastic cup wrapped in paper. The curtains had been pulled shut, but one panel hung slightly lower than the other.
You switched on your phone’s flashlight. The room was empty.
Not recently abandoned. Completely empty.
The closet contained two bent wire hangers. The drawers held nothing except an old Gideon’s Bible and a dead insect. There were no clothes, photographs, forgotten toiletries, or personal belongings.
You crouched beside the bed and checked beneath it.
Nothing.
The bathroom was just as useless. A cracked mirror. A mildewed shower curtain. Two towels folded above the toilet.
You searched behind the toilet tank, beneath the sink, and inside the hollow cabinet under the television.
Nothing.
Twenty minutes of searching had led you to an empty motel room on the wrong side of the island at nearly three in the morning.
You stood in the center of the room, irritated.
John B had carried the key for a reason.
He had risked returning to the TannyHill after midnight, searched through hurricane wreckage, and stolen an official-looking document. Then he had fled with the key to this room in his pocket.
You crossed toward the nightstand and opened the drawer again. Empty. You pushed it shut harder than necessary.
The piece of furniture shifted. Something beneath it scraped against the floor.
You stopped.
The nightstand was lighter than it looked. You pulled it away from the wall, revealing a narrow gap between the wooden base and the carpet.
A folded slip of paper had been trapped beneath one leg.
You picked it up.
The paper was damp and partially discolored, but the printed text remained visible.
MARSHVIEW MOTOR LODGE
ROOM 23
Below it was a handwritten name.
Scooter Grubbs.
You had heard the name recently.
After the hurricane, people around Figure Eight had spoken about a body discovered in the marsh. Scooter Grubbs had gone out during the storm and never returned.
The bottom of the receipt contained a deposit amount and a second signature.
You brought the phone closer.
Your chest tightened.
You knew that signature.
You had seen it at charity auctions, on Island Club paperwork, beneath checks written to your parents, and across documents left on the Cameron kitchen counter.
Ward Cameron.
Not initials.
His full signature.
You stared at it.
Ward had signed the motel receipt connected to a man who died during Hurricane Agatha.
You read the date. Two days before the storm. The deposit had been paid in cash. No explanation had been written beside it.
You folded the receipt carefully and slipped it inside your purse.
A car passed on the road beyond the curtains.
Its headlights moved across the walls.
You froze.
The vehicle slowed near the motel entrance. You turned off your flashlight. For several seconds, the room became completely dark. The car continued past. You waited until the sound of its engine disappeared before opening the door. The parking lot remained empty. You locked Room 23 behind you and walked quickly toward your car.
You had found one answer.
Ward Cameron was connected to Scooter Grubbs.
Unfortunately, it created at least ten more questions.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
The lamp beside your bed was on when you returned home.
Rafe sat against the headboard.
He wore only the sweatpants he had fallen asleep in, one knee raised beneath the sheets. His injured hand remained bandaged, though the gauze had begun loosening around his knuckles.
His expression made it clear that he had been awake for a while.
You closed the bedroom door behind you.
“What are you doing up?”
Rafe stared at you.
“Where the fuck were you?”
You set your purse beside the dresser. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“So you left?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
You removed your shoes slowly.
Rafe’s gaze dropped to the dirt along the soles.
“I wanted to buy cigarettes.”
Silence filled the room.
Rafe looked at you.
You looked back.
Neither of you smoked cigarettes regularly. You did not have a pack in your hand, your purse, or your pockets. The nearest store open at that hour was nowhere near the mud covering your shoes.
“At three in the morning?” he asked.
“I told you. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Where are the cigarettes?”
“I changed my mind, Not a good habit to pick up.”
Rafe stared at you for several long seconds.
The lie was insulting.
You almost wished he would call you on it.
Instead, his expression softened.
“Next time, wake me up.”
You paused.
“You hate being woken up.”
“I hate waking up and finding you gone.”
The guilt landed more sharply than anger would have.
Rafe pushed the sheets aside and stood.
He crossed the room before you could move, his hands settling against your arms as his eyes moved over your face.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
His gaze dropped to your neck, your wrists, and the front of your clothes.
“Did someone touch you?” “No.”
“Did someone see you?” “I don’t think so.” His jaw tightened. “That isn’t reassuring.”
“I’m fine.”
Rafe continued examining you as though he expected an injury to appear if he looked long enough. You touched his bandaged hand.
“So are you.”
“Not the point.”
“It usually isn’t with you.”
He looked toward your purse. For one terrible second, you thought he might search it. Instead, Rafe returned his attention to you.
“Im serious, I would have gone with you.”
“You were asleep.”
“You know that it wouldn't have mattered."
You did know.
That made the receipt hidden inside your purse feel heavier.
Rafe slid one arm around your waist and pulled you against him.
You rested your hands on his chest.
He still looked angry, but the anger no longer felt directed at you. It was fear without anywhere useful to go. “You’re not doing that again,” he said.
“Leaving my own house?”
“Leaving without telling me.”
“That sounded like an order.”
“It was.”
You raised your eyebrows.
Rafe exhaled. “Please.”
You studied him.
His eyes remained fixed on your face.
“Fine.”
“Fine what?”
“I’ll wake you up next time.”
“There isn’t going to be a next time.”
You almost smiled. “There’s always a next time with us.” Rafe’s expression suggested he did not find that comforting.
He pulled you toward the bed. You discreetly removed the receipt from your purse while his back was turned and slipped it inside the locked drawer beneath your jewelry box.
When you returned beneath the sheets, Rafe wrapped himself around you. His chest pressed against your back. His injured hand settled carefully against your stomach while the other arm remained beneath your pillow. You stared into the darkness.
The guilt kept you awake until sunrise.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Two days later, Rafe was over your bullshit.
He found you alone near the Island Club tennis courts.
The storm had left one section of fencing bent inward, and several groundskeepers were still clearing branches from the pathway. You had just finished lunch with your mother’s friend when Rafe stepped into your path.
“We need to talk.”
“You’re using Sarah’s lines now?”
“I’m serious.”
“So is she.”
Rafe looked around. The nearest groundskeeper stood too far away to hear. “You saw Pope and JJ at the dock.” You adjusted the strap of your bag. “I saw them leaving.”
“And you knew they sank Topper’s boat.”
“I suspected.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I did ask.”
“You asked who I saw.”
“And you said not to ask questions I didn’t want answered.”
“You understood me perfectly.”
Rafe stepped closer.
“You protected them.”
“I protected you.”
His laugh was sharp.
“From what?”
“From doing exactly this.”
“Exactly what?”
“Tracking them down and making everything worse.”
His jaw tightened.
“They sank Topper’s boat.”
“After you and Topper beat up Pope.”
“So that makes it fine?”
“I didn’t say it was fine.”
“You acted like it.”
“I mean you two jumping Pope wasn't exactly fine either”
“That wasn’t your decision.”
“Neither was attacking Pope.”
Rafe’s face hardened.
You continued before he could interrupt.
“I don’t care about Pope.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I don’t. I care that every time someone does something to you, you have to do something worse.”
“He was running his mouth.”
“So you beat him until your hands split open?”
“You weren’t there.”
“You keep saying that as though it helps your argument.”
Rafe looked away briefly.
His fingers flexed at his sides.
You hated that his injured hand had begun bleeding through the bandage again.
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he said.
“I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, Rafe, I am. Being on your side doesn't mean condoning your idiotic mistakes.”
His eyes returned to yours. “That’s what you think I’m doing?”
“What else would you call it?”
“You're speaking like Ward again.”
The words landed between you.
Rafe knew immediately that he had crossed a line. You became very still.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You always mean it when you’re angry.”
Rafe reached for your wrist. You stepped back. His hand dropped. For several seconds, neither of you spoke.
Then he asked, “If you knew something was going to hurt me, you’d tell me, right?” The receipt flashed through your mind. Ward’s signature. Scooter Grubbs. The empty motel room. You held Rafe’s stare.
“Yes.”
The lie left your mouth smoothly.
Rafe nodded once.
You couldn't tell whether he believed you or not.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
You found John B in Sarah’s bedroom that afternoon.
He sat on the edge of her bed with blood dried near his temple and a torn shirt clinging to one shoulder. Sarah stood between his knees with a wet cloth in her hand.
You stopped in the doorway. Sarah froze. John B looked toward you. No one spoke.
You glanced from the blood to Sarah. “You brought him here?”
“He needed somewhere safe.”
“That sounds like a problem for someone who likes him.”
“I don’t like him.”
John B lifted his eyebrows. You ignored him.
Sarah lowered her voice. “Can you shut the door?” You entered and closed it behind you. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” John B said. You looked at Sarah. “He’s been spending too much time with Rafe.” John B almost smiled. Sarah did not. “DCS is looking for him.”
“That sounds like a DCS problem.”
“He could be sent away.”
You placed your purse on the chair. “And?” Sarah stared at you. “You really don’t care?”
“About John B?” He leaned back on his hands.
“Good to know.”
“I’m sure you’ll recover.”
Sarah stepped closer. “I need you to help me.”
“With what?”
“Hiding him.”
You looked around her bedroom. “You chose the first place Ward would check.”
“Dad doesn’t come in here.”
“He owns the house.”
“He knocks.”
“So does Rafe. That has never stopped him.” John B glanced between you. Sarah noticed.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
The hallway floor creaked. Sarah’s face changed. “Someone’s coming.” You looked toward the bathroom. “Put him in there.” John B stood. Sarah grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the bathroom just as another knock sounded. You picked up a hairbrush from the dresser and sat in front of the mirror. Sarah closed the bathroom door.
Ward entered before she reached the bed.
His gaze moved from Sarah to you. “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” Sarah answered.
You began brushing your hair. Ward looked around the room. “I thought I heard someone.” Sarah laughed too loudly. “You heard us.” “Sounded like a man’s voice.” You turned in the chair. “I was doing an impression of Topper.” Ward stared at you. You lowered your voice and said, “Sarah, why haven’t you answered my fourteen messages?” Sarah covered her mouth. Ward’s expression softened slightly. “You need work.” “I’ve been told.” He remained near the doorway. “Have either of you seen Rafe?” “No,” Sarah said. You shook your head. Ward’s gaze lingered on you. You wondered whether he knew about the motel.
The thought was ridiculous. It still made your pulse quicken.
“If you do, tell him I’m looking for him.”
“Okay,” you said.
Ward closed the door. Sarah waited several seconds before opening the bathroom. John B stepped out. “You do a terrible Topper impression.”
“You’re welcome.”
Sarah returned to cleaning the cut near his temple.
You watched without interest until John B’s attention shifted toward the wall.
A framed portrait hung beside Sarah’s dresser. Denmark Tanny. John B stopped moving. His expression changed. You followed his gaze. “Why are you staring at that?”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Sarah looked over her shoulder. “It’s Denmark Tanny.”
John B stood and moved closer to the portrait. “Who?”
“He owned Tannyhill before my family,” Sarah said. “He was the only survivor from the Royal Merchant.” John B looked at her. The room became quiet. You studied him. “You’ve seen the name before.”
“No.”
“You’re a worse liar than Sarah.”
Sarah frowned. “Excuse me?”
John B turned away from the portrait. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Then stop looking like it does.” He met your eyes.
For the first time, his expression contained something besides irritation. Suspicion. You returned it. John B was searching for something connected to Tannyhill.
You didn't care whether he found it or not. You cared that Ward’s signature sat inside your desk and John B had just reacted to a portrait inside Ward’s house.
Sarah touched his arm. “We should go.” “Where?” you asked.
“Shopping.”
You looked at John B’s torn shirt. “Are you buying him a personality?”
Sarah grabbed her purse. “We’ll be back.”
“You promised to tell me the whole truth.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re saying one word and hoping I don’t ask questions.”
Sarah opened the bedroom door.
“We’re going shopping.”
“You hate shopping when the power is out.”
“Then I’ve grown.”
You recognized your own words and glared at her. Sarah smiled despite herself. Then she and John B disappeared into the hallway.
You remained in the room.
You could have stopped them.
You didn't care enough about John B to try.
You cared about Sarah.
That was becoming increasingly inconvenient.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Rafe caught you lying for her twenty minutes later.
He entered through the kitchen while you stood beside the island drinking water. “Where’s Sarah?”
“Shopping.”
“With who?”
You looked at him. “Why?”
“Topper’s asking.”
“Then tell Topper to call her.”
“She isn’t answering.”
“That sounds personal.”
Rafe opened the refrigerator. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see Sarah.”
“And she left you?”
“Yes.”
“With John B?”
You did not answer quickly enough. Rafe shut the refrigerator.
“You’re covering for her.”
“I said she went shopping.”
“She hates shopping.”
“Apparently everyone knows that.”
Rafe stepped closer. “You’re helping her lie.”
“She’s my best friend.”
“And I’m what?”
You set down the glass.
“Don’t do this again.”
“Do what?”
“Turn everything into a competition.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“She lied to you about John B after getting pissed because you didn’t tell her everything.”
“That is between us.”
“And you’re still covering for her.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she asked.”
Rafe laughed without humor.
“She’d destroy you if she knew about us.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“She’s your sister.”
“Exactly.”
You folded your arms.
Rafe continued.
“I don’t care who Sarah runs around with. I care that you’re always the one cleaning up after her.”
You stared at him.
“You cannot be serious.”
“What?”
“You don’t get to criticize her for making me clean up her messes when that is practically our entire relationship.”
The words escaped before you could soften them.
Rafe became still.
His expression emptied. “That’s what you think?”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“It sounded pretty clear.”
“Rafe.”
“You think being with me is cleaning up a mess?”
“No.”
“You just said it.”
“Rafe you know that's not what I meant. You just always expect me to help fix the problems that you create.”
“I don’t expect shit from you.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Then stop.”
You looked at him.
“What?”
“Stop fixing them.”
His voice was cold now.
“Stop giving me money. Stop cleaning my hands. Stop covering for me. Stop pretending you’re doing any of it because you want to.”
“I do want to.”
“Then don’t throw it in my face.”
“I’m not.”
“You just did.”
You stepped closer.
Rafe moved away.
That hurt more than it should have.
He turned toward the door.
“Rafe.”
He did not stop. Instead he just slammed the door in your face.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
You and Rafe arrived at the outdoor movie separately.
Neither of you had spoken since the kitchen.
Topper stood with Kelce near the back of the field while families unfolded chairs and blankets across the grass.
Rafe leaned against his truck.
His gaze found you the second you arrived.
You looked away.
Ruthie, a friend of a friend, who you had decided to tag along with to the movie, had noticed.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re both doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“You two are basically eye fucking”
“We’re not.”
Ruthie glanced toward Rafe.
He was watching you.
She raised her eyebrows.
You adjusted your bag.
“Can we not?”
Her expression softened.
“Did you fight?”
“No.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“So I’ve heard.”
The movie began. You barely watched.
Rafe remained several yards away with Topper and Kelce. Every few minutes, you felt his attention shift toward you.
You refused to look back.
Then Pope, JJ, and Kiara moved through the crowd.
Topper noticed first. His expression changed. Rafe followed his gaze. You stood before either of them moved. “Don’t.”
Rafe looked at you.
It was the first word you had spoken directly to him in hours.
Topper asked, “What?” You ignored him. Rafe pushed away from the truck. “Stay here.”
“You promised you weren’t going to make this worse.”
“I never promised that.”
“Then maybe you should start listening when I tell you to stop.”
Kelce looked between you. Topper stared. Rafe’s jaw tightened.
“Not now.”
“That’s always your answer.”
Pope noticed them approaching. JJ stepped in front of him.
Rafe moved past you. You caught his arm. He looked down at your hand.
“Let go.”
“No.”
“Don’t do this.”
“I’m not the one starting another fight.”
Topper glanced around at the nearby families. “We’re just talking.”
“You and Rafe don’t know how to talk.”
JJ laughed from several feet away. “Princess got you there.”
Rafe pulled his arm from your grip.
“Stay out of it.”
The words were quiet enough that only you heard. That made them worse. You stared at him. “Fine.”
You stepped back. Rafe hesitated.
For one second, guilt moved across his face.
Then Topper called Pope’s name, and the moment disappeared.
The confrontation moved toward the edge of the field.
Voices rose.
People began turning away from the movie.
You saw Kiara slip behind the screen.
Seconds later, flames climbed the white fabric. Someone screamed. The crowd surged backward. Smoke rolled across the field. You covered your mouth and coughed. Rafe appeared in front of you almost immediately.
His hands caught your face. “Are you okay?” You pulled away. “I’m fine.”
“You couldn’t breathe.”
“I coughed twice.”
“Same thing.”
He placed one hand against your back and guided you away from the smoke. Topper continued running after Pope and JJ.
Rafe did not follow him. You noticed.
Although it didn't make you less angry.
Once you reached clearer air, you pushed Rafe’s hands away. “You don’t get to act worried now.” His expression sharpened. “I’m always worried about you.”
“Bullshit.”
“They sank Topper’s boat.”
“Because you beat up Pope.”
“So this is my fault?”
You looked directly at him.
“Yea Rafe.”
Rafe stared at you.
You continued.
“It kinda is.”
“Maybe you should go check on Pope, since you care so much.”
“I don’t care about Pope right now, I care about you.”
“Right.”
“I care that you keep making me afraid of what you’ll do next.”
The anger left his face.
For a moment, he looked genuinely hurt. You hated that some part of you wanted to take the words back. Rafe rubbed one hand over his mouth. “I came back for you.”
“I know.”
“I left them.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t matter?”
“It matters.”
“Doesn’t sound like it.”
“It doesn’t erase everything else you've done this past week.”
Rafe looked away.
The screen collapsed behind him in a shower of sparks. People shouted and ran toward the parking area. He reached for your hand. You allowed him to take it. You were still angry. He was still wrong.
Neither changed the fact that your fingers closed around his automatically.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
JJ took responsibility for sinking Topper’s boat.
You heard about it the following morning from Sarah. “He confessed,” she said.
You sat across from her at the Island Club, turning your straw through a glass of lemonade. “Alone?”
“That’s what Topper said.”
You looked toward the golf course. JJ had not acted alone. Pope had been there. You had seen both of them leaving the dock. Sarah studied your face. “You know something.”
“No.”
“You’re doing the thing again.”
“What thing?”
“The lying thing.”
You almost laughed.
Before you could answer, Rafe appeared beside the table. Sarah’s expression changed.
“Topper’s inside.”
“I’m not looking for Topper.”
His gaze remained on you. Sarah looked between both of you.
“I’m gonna get a drink.”
She stood and left before either of you responded. Rafe took the empty chair. “You heard about JJ.”
“Yea.”
“Don’t.”
You leaned back. “Don’t what?”
“Start feeling sorry for him.”
“He took the blame for something he didn’t do alone.”
“That was his choice.”
“That’s what people say when they don’t want to feel responsible.”
Rafe’s expression hardened. “You talking about me?”
“If the shoe fits.”
“He confessed.”
“You wanted me to tell you Pope did it?”
“Yea, You should've been honest from the start.”
“So you could beat him again?”
Rafe’s jaw clenched.
“You always assume the worst.”
“No. I assume the most likely.”
He leaned closer.
“I’m getting tired of you acting like I’m some fucking animal you have to control.”
“I’m not judging you for being angry.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Then stop fucking acting like one”
Rafe stood abruptly. The chair scraped against the patio. Several people glanced toward you.
You lowered your voice. “Sit down.”
“No.”
“You’re making a scene.”
“You seem to think that’s all I do.”
“That is not what I said.”
“It’s what you mean.”
He walked away. You watched him disappear into the club. Sarah returned several minutes later with a mojito in her hands. Her gaze moved toward the empty chair. “What happened?” You lifted your drink. “Nothing.”
This time, Sarah did not pretend to believe you.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Scooter Grubbs had worked on boats for most of his life.
The information was not difficult to find once you knew what to search.
He repaired engines, transported equipment, and accepted private jobs from people willing to pay cash. His name appeared in old marina listings, a fishing tournament article, and a report about Hurricane Agatha.
His body had been discovered in the marsh shortly after the storm. The official explanation was drowning. You searched for a connection to Ward. Nothing appeared. Ward Cameron’s name did not exist beside Scooter’s anywhere public.
Only on the motel receipt hidden in your desk.
You considered visiting Lana Grubbs. Her address was listed in an old directory, but when you drove past the property, an unfamiliar SUV sat near the road. Two men stood beside it speaking quietly. You kept driving. Approaching Lana without knowing who was watching her would be stupid.
You could wait. Waiting was not your strength. It was occasionally useful.
When you returned home, Rafe’s truck sat in your driveway. You found him in your bedroom.
He stood beside your dresser, holding the broken necklace you had left there the previous week.
Your hand moved instinctively toward the locked drawer.
Rafe noticed. His gaze dropped to it.
For one tense second, neither of you spoke. Then he looked away. “You broke this.”
“It caught on my dress.”
“I fixed it.”
He placed the necklace on the dresser.
You picked it up. The clasp had been replaced.
“Is this supposed to make me forgive you?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
“You said yours broke.”
Rafe shoved his hands into his pockets.
The gesture looked almost uncomfortable.
You studied him. This was an apology. Not a complete one. Not a good one. It was still more than he offered most people.
“Thank you.” He nodded.
You opened the locked drawer after he left.
The motel receipt remained exactly where you had placed it.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Your Midsummers dress was pale baby blue.
The fabric crossed high over your chest before falling into a fitted waist and a long, soft skirt. The entire back remained open.
Your mother had chosen it months earlier.
You had nearly exchanged it. Now, standing in front of your mirror, you were glad you had not.
Rafe entered without knocking.
He wore a matching tuxedo with the bow tie still undone around his collar.
He stopped in the doorway. You met his eyes through the mirror.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m allowed to stare.” His gaze moved slowly over the exposed line of your back. “You’re my date.”
You turned toward him. Rafe remained silent. For once, he did not make a joke.
He crossed the room and stopped behind you. “You look beautiful.” The sincerity caught you off guard. You looked down at the necklace in your hands. “Help me?” Rafe took it.
His fingers brushed the back of your neck as he fastened the repaired clasp. He adjusted the chain until the pendant rested correctly against your chest.
Then his mouth touched your shoulder. You closed your eyes briefly. Rafe kissed the same spot again. His hand settled against your bare waist.
You stepped away. He looked at you.
“You don’t get to act like everything is fine.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I came here, didn’t I?”
“That isn’t an apology.”
“I fixed your necklace.”
“That also isn’t an apology.”
Rafe exhaled. “You want me to say I’m sorry?”
“Yes.”
He looked toward the window. You crossed your arms. “Rafe.”
“I’m sorry.” The words sounded painful.
“For what?” His gaze snapped back to yours. “You’re pushing it.”
“For what?”
“For telling you to stay out of it.”
“And?”
“For what I said at the tennis courts.”
“And?” His jaw tightened. “For going after them at the movie.”
You waited. Rafe’s expression softened slightly. “And for making you afraid of me.”
The anger inside you shifted. You had not expected him to say that part.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“That isn’t what you said.”
“I said I’m afraid of what you’ll do.”
“Same thing.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“It feels like it.”
You moved closer.
Rafe’s hand found your waist again.
“I love you,” you said. “That’s why it scares me.”
He looked at you. The defensiveness slowly left his face. You touched the undone bow tie around his collar.
“We still have to tell Sarah.” The softness vanished.
“Tonight.”
“You promised before Midsummers.”
“We haven’t left yet.”
“You keep saying you’ll tell her, and then the second it becomes real, you hide.”
“I’m not hiding you.”
“Then what are you doing?”
Rafe looked away. You released the tie.
“Are you ashamed of me?” His expression hardened instantly.
“Don’t ever say that.”
“Then prove it.”
“I’m not ashamed of you.”
“You act like being seen with me will ruin something.”
“It will.” Your chest tightened.
Rafe caught your face before you could move away. “Not us.”
“Then what?”
“Everything else.”
“Sarah?”
“She’ll make it impossible.”
“She can only do that if we let her.”
“You don’t know what she’s like.”
“She’s my best friend.”
“She’s my sister.”
“Then stop acting terrified of her.”
“I’m not terrified of Sarah.”
“Good. We’ll tell her.”
Rafe stared at you. You stared back.
Finally, he nodded. “Fine.”
“Fine what?”
“We tell her.”
“Before we leave.”
His jaw tightened again. “Before we leave.”
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Sarah was in her bedroom when you arrived at Tannyhill.
She wore a white dress and stood near the mirror while Wheezie sat on the bed criticizing every piece of jewelry she selected.
Rafe remained in the hallway.
You entered alone.
Sarah looked at your dress.
“You look pretty.”
The compliment sounded genuine.
Guilt tightened beneath your ribs.
“So do you.”
Wheezie looked toward the doorway, and had decided to run off to Rose before she got in the middle of it.
“Rafe’s waiting.”
Sarah glanced behind you.
“For who?” You hesitated. “For me.”
Sarah paused. “What?”
You looked toward Rafe. He stepped into the room. His eyes moved from Sarah to you.
The prepared speech disappeared from your mind.
Sarah laughed uncertainly. “What’s going on?”
Rafe reached for your hand. You let him take it.
Sarah’s smile faded. “Why are you holding hands?”
No one answered. Her gaze moved between you. Then toward your clasped fingers.
“Wait.”
You opened your mouth. Rafe said your name quietly. You looked at him. He pulled you closer.
The movement placed you beside him rather than behind him.
Sarah stared. “No.”
“Sarah—”
“No. What is this?”
You felt Rafe’s hand settle against your bare back. Sarah noticed.
Her face changed completely. “Are you sleeping with her?”
Rafe’s expression hardened.
“She’s my girlfriend.” Sarah stared at him. “Your what?”
“Girlfriend.”
The room became silent.
Sarah looked at you.
“Since when?” You couldn't get yourself to answer. Rafe did.
“Two years.”
Sarah laughed. The sound was sharp and disbelieving.
“No. You're lying. ”
You swallowed.
“Sarah.”
“Two years?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes widened. “Two years? You’ve been dating him for two years?”
You nodded.
Her expression shifted between anger, disbelief, and hurt.
“You let me warn you about him.”
“I know.”
“You stood in the Island Club and told me you didn’t like him.”
“I was scared.”
“No.” Sarah shook her head. “You laughed.”
“Because I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You knew I had no idea.”
“Sarah—”
“You disappeared from every party.”
Your chest tightened. She continued as the memories rearranged themselves.
“You always left five minutes after him. He suddenly knew things I only told you. Every time Dad yelled at him, you defended him like it was personal.”
You said nothing. Sarah’s gaze dropped to your mouth. Her face changed again.
“Kelce didn’t split your lip.”
Silence. Sarah looked at Rafe. “That was you?”
Rafe’s hand pressed more firmly against your back.
Sarah stared at him.
“That party when I caught you in Dad’s office.”
Neither of you answered. “Oh my God.” She looked at you again. “Every sleepover?”
“No.”
“How many?”
“Sarah, stop.”
“How many times did you leave my room to go to his?”
“Enough,” Rafe said. Sarah laughed in disbelief. “You don’t get to tell me enough.”
“Don’t talk to her like that.”
“You don’t get to defend her from me.”
“I’m not asking permission.”
“Rafe, stop,” you said. He looked at you.
“You’re making it worse.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
Sarah’s eyes filled with tears. “You always do this.”
You turned back toward her. “Do what?”
“Make me feel stupid.”
“I never tried to make you feel stupid.”
“You let me sit there and talk about both of you while you knew the truth.”
“I wanted to tell you.”
“For two years?”
“There was never a good time.”
“There were hundreds of times.”
“You had so many things going on, I couldn't just casually bring this up.”
“That's not an excuse.”
“I know.”
“Then stop making excuses.”
You looked down.
Sarah’s voice broke slightly.
“I know who he is.”
Rafe became still beside you. Sarah’s eyes remained on your face.
“I thought I knew who you were.”
The words hurt more than every accusation before them.
Your grip loosened around Rafe’s hand. He noticed immediately.
Sarah continued. “Was any of it real?” You looked at her. “What?”
“Our friendship. Was any of it real, or were you just here because of him?”
Anger cut through the hurt. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Answer me.”
“You know that isn’t true.”
“Do I?”
“Yes.”
“You lied to me every day.”
“Because I didn't want to hurt you Sarah!”
Sarah laughed bitterly.
“Don’t.”
“It’s true.”
“You chose him.”
“Yea I did.”
The room became silent.
Rafe looked at you. Sarah’s face crumpled briefly before the anger returned.
“You didn’t even hesitate.”
“You asked me a question.”
“And you answered.”
“What did you want me to say?”
“That I mattered to you.”
“You do matter.”
“Not enough.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“None of this is fair.”
Sarah grabbed her clutch from the dresser. You stepped forward. She moved away.
“Sarah.”
“Don’t.”
“Please.”
“I can’t look at you right now.” She opened the bedroom door.
Rafe moved as though he might follow. You caught his arm.
“She’s your sister.” His attention returned to you.
“You’re the one shaking.” You looked down. Your hands were trembling.
Sarah disappeared into the hallway.
The door slammed downstairs several seconds later. You stared at the empty doorway. Rafe stepped in front of you.
“Look at me.”
You did not. His hands closed gently around your arms. “Do you regret me?” You looked up. The vulnerability in his expression was almost hidden beneath the tension in his jaw. Almost.
“I regret hurting her.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“No.” You touched his face. “I don’t regret loving you.”
Rafe closed his eyes briefly. Then he pulled you against him. You rested your face against his chest.
His arms tightened around you.
Neither of you mentioned that Sarah had left without waiting for Topper.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Midsummers transformed the Island Club into something almost unreal.
White lights hung from the trees. Tables covered in flowers stretched across the lawn while waiters moved through the crowd carrying champagne. Women wore pale dresses and expensive jewelry. Men adjusted tuxedo collars beneath the summer heat.
You had attended every year since childhood.
This was the first time you entered with Rafe’s hand openly pressed against your bare back.
People noticed.
They tried not to.
Kelce failed completely.
He approached before you reached the main lawn.
“You two?” Rafe looked at him. “Don’t.”
“No, I’m sorry.” Kelce pointed between you. “You two?”
“Kelce.”
“How did none of us know?”
“You’re not observant,” you said.
“How long?”
Rafe’s gaze sharpened. "Two years now."
Kelce’s mouth fell open.
Topper appeared beside him.
“What happened?”
Kelce looked delighted to be the one delivering the news. “They’ve been dating.”
Topper laughed. Then he noticed Rafe’s hand against your back.
His smile disappeared.
“Wait. You two are actually together?”
Rafe looked at him. “Problem?”
“Since when?”
“A while.”
“How long is a while?”
You and Rafe exchanged a look. Topper’s expression changed.
“No fucking way.”
Kelce nodded enthusiastically. “Two years.”
Topper stared at you.
Then at Rafe.
“That’s why you nearly killed me at that party.”
Rafe took a glass from a passing tray. “I still might.”
“I was trying to make Sarah jealous.”
“I know.”
“So you knew?”
“Obviously.”
Topper looked at you.
“You let me flirt with you.”
“You knew I wasn’t interested.”
“I thought you hated him.”
“So did everyone.”
Kelce shook his head slowly. “This is insane.”
Rafe handed you the drink.
“Are you done?”
“No.”
“Be done.”
Topper looked toward the lawn.
“Where is Sarah?”
You became quiet. Rafe’s thumb moved once across your back. “She came separately,” you said.
That was technically true.
Ward approached before Topper could ask more.
His eyes moved over the group. “Everything all right?”
“Fine,” you answered.
“Fine,” Sarah said from behind him at the same time.
You turned.
She stood near the entrance with her arms crossed.
Her expression remained cold. Ward looked between you. Then his gaze dropped to Rafe’s hand against your back. He said nothing. That made it worse. “Good,” Ward said. “Try to enjoy yourselves.” He moved away.
Sarah followed without looking at you.
Rafe leaned toward your ear. “Want to leave?”
“No.”
“You’re staring at her.”
“I love her.”
“She doesn’t seem to care about that right now.”
You looked at him.
Rafe’s expression softened.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“All of it.”
The apology was quiet enough that no one else could hear. You touched his wrist.
“I’m still mad at you.”
“About what?”
You looked at him.
“That bad?”
“Worse.”
His mouth twitched faintly.
Rafe brought your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Sarah avoided you for nearly an hour.
You remained near Rafe while he spoke to Topper, Kelce, and several people from the Island Club. His hand rarely left your waist.
Whenever Sarah glanced toward you, he noticed. Whenever your expression changed, he leaned closer. He brought you another drink without asking.
When Topper tried pulling him toward a group near the bar, Rafe refused.
“You coming?” Topper asked. “No.”
“You always come.”
Rafe looked at you. “Not tonight.”
Topper followed his gaze. Understanding crossed his face.
Before he could respond, Wheezie appeared beside you.
“I knew it.”
You looked down at her.
“You knew nothing.”
“I'v seen you sneak out of his room around like twenty times by now.”
“Keep your voice down.”
She smiled.
“How much is my silence worth?”
“We already told Sarah.”
“Sarah doesn’t count. I mean Dad.”
Rafe looked over.
“What are you two talking about?”
“Extortion,” you said.
Wheezie lifted one shoulder.
“I prefer negotiation.”
Rafe reached into his pocket and handed her a folded bill.
You stared at him.
“Are you seriously paying her?”
“She’ll go away.”
Wheezie examined the money.
“This buys one week.”
Rafe looked at her.
She smiled and disappeared into the crowd.
“You made that worse,” you said.
“She was going to keep talking.”
“You encouraged her.”
“She’s twelve. Money solves everything.”
“You’re going to be a terrible parent.”
Rafe’s gaze moved to your face. The teasing left his expression for half a second. Then he looked away. You noticed. Before you could ask, Sarah slipped through the side entrance of the club. John B followed several yards behind her. Your attention sharpened.
Rafe noticed. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
You set down your drink. “I’ll be back.”
His hand closed around your wrist. “Where are you going?”
“To talk to Sarah.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Rafe looked toward the side entrance. Then back at you.
“Don’t let her upset you again.” You pulled free. “She’s already upset.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
You walked away before he could follow.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
You found Sarah near the edge of the property with John B.
They stood beneath a tree beyond the main lights. Sarah held a folded piece of paper. John B spoke quietly enough that you could not hear the words.
Sarah noticed you first. Her expression hardened.
“Did Rafe send you?”
“No.”
“Then go back to him.”
“This has nothing to do with Rafe.”
“Everything has something to do with Rafe now.”
You stopped several feet away. “Stop it Sarah. You know that has nothing to do with whatever is happening over here!”
Sarah stared at you. John B looked between both of you.
You continued.
“John B searched your dock. He stole from your family. Now he needs something inside your house, and you still don’t know why.”
Sarah folded the paper quickly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then explain it.”
“I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“You demanded one from me.”
“You lied to me for two years.”
“And that means John B is automatically trustworthy?”
“At least he tells me when he needs something.”
“No. He tells you enough to make you help him.”
John B stepped forward. “This isn’t your business.”
You looked at him. “Stay out of this.”
“I think you lost the right to say that after you've been fucking her brother.”
“Yet you're the one using her.”
“I’m not using her.”
“Then tell her everything.”
Sarah crossed her arms.
“He has.”
You looked at her.
“You believe that?”
“Yes.”
“After knowing him for what? A week?”
“At least I know where he stands.”
The words landed precisely where she intended. You laughed once. “This isn’t about us.”
“It is for me.”
“You are letting your anger at me make decisions for you.”
“And you’re letting Rafe make yours.”
“No. Like I said, he has nothing to do with this.”
Sarah looked away. You saw the hurt return. John B touched her arm. You hated that the gesture made her soften immediately.
“What does he want?” you asked. Sarah said nothing.
You looked toward the folded paper. “Something from Tannyhill?” John B’s expression changed. That was enough. You stepped closer to Sarah. “Be careful.” She laughed bitterly. “Now you care?”
“I never stopped.”
“You have a strange way of showing it.”
“And you have a strange way of proving me wrong.”
Sarah’s eyes filled again. For one moment, you almost apologized. Then she said, “Go back to Rafe.” You stared at her. She turned away. John B followed.
You watched them disappear into the darkness.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Topper found you near the bar.
“Have you seen Sarah?” You lifted your champagne. “No.”
“She was here ten minutes ago.”
“She probably went to the bathroom.”
“Which one?”
“How would I know?”
Topper studied your face. Rafe appeared beside you. His hand settled at your waist. Topper looked between both of you. “Something happened.”
“Nothing happened,” you said. “You’re lying.” He had snarled at you.
“She said she hasn’t seen her,” Rafe replied. Topper looked at him. “You believe her?” Rafe’s thumb pressed lightly against your side. “Yea Top, We haven't seen her for like the past hour or so.” The answer made the motel receipt inside your clutch feel like a stone. Topper walked away.
Rafe waited until he was gone. “You’re protecting her.”
“You know I'm never throwing Sar under the bus for Topper of all people.”
“She just told you she doesn’t know who you are.”
“That doesn’t mean I stop knowing who she is.”
Rafe looked at you. Something unreadable moved across his face. His loyalty was fierce but conditional. Betrayal ended things for him. Yours did not work that way. He didn't understand it. You weren't sure you did either.
Wheezie passed nearby with a plate of desserts. Topper caught her arm. You saw him ask a question.
Wheezie looked toward the side entrance. Your stomach dropped. Topper began walking quickly across the lawn. You set down your glass. “Wheezie.” Rafe followed your gaze. “What?”
“She told him.”
“Told him what?”
“Where Sarah went.”
You lifted your skirt and hurried after Topper. Rafe caught up within seconds. “Slow down.”
“No.”
“Where are they?”
“Hawk’s Nest.”
“How do you know?”
“I heard John B mention it.”
Rafe grabbed your hand. This time, you did not pull away.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
You arrived too late to prevent the fight.
Topper had John B against the ground near the edge of the property. Sarah screamed at him to stop.
John B’s face was bloodied. Topper struck him again.
You released Rafe’s hand and ran forward. “Topper!”
He did not hear you. Sarah tried pulling at his shoulder.
Topper shoved her away without looking. Rafe moved more slowly behind you.
For one terrible second, you thought he would allow it. You grabbed Topper’s arm.
“Enough.” He jerked backward.
The movement threw you off balance. Your shoulder struck the wooden railing. Pain flashed down your arm. Rafe changed instantly.
He crossed the distance between you and grabbed Topper by the back of his tuxedo, dragging him away from John B. “Enough.” Topper struggled. “He was with Sarah!”
“I don’t care.” Sarah heard him. Her face changed.
Rafe shoved Topper backward.
Then he turned toward you. “Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine.”
“You hit the railing.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“Stop saying that.” His hands moved over your shoulder and arm, checking for an injury.
Topper stared at him. Sarah stared too.
Neither had ever seen Rafe forget an entire fight because you might have been hurt.
John B remained on the ground.
You barely looked at him.
Sarah dropped beside him.
“John B?”
He groaned. Topper ran one hand through his hair.
“She kissed him.”
Rafe did not look away from you.
“I don’t care.”
The words hurt Sarah this time. You saw it.
“Rafe,” you said quietly.
He finally glanced toward his sister. Sarah held John B’s face between her hands. Topper looked destroyed.
For a moment, everyone remained frozen in the aftermath.
Then Sarah said, “We need to get him help.”
You moved toward her. She looked up.
The anger between you had not disappeared.
Neither had the years before it.
You helped her lift John B anyway.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Ward offered John B a home before the night ended.
You stood near the entrance of Tannyhill while John B sat with an ice pack against his face.
Sarah remained beside him. Ward spoke quietly.
“You can stay here.” John B looked up. “What?”
“I’ll speak to DCS. We can figure out something more permanent.”
Rafe stood several feet away. His expression became completely still. Ward continued speaking to John B with a patience you rarely heard him use with his own son. Sarah looked relieved. John B looked uncertain. Rafe laughed beneath his breath.
You turned toward him. He walked outside. You followed. He stopped near the damaged porch railing. “He steals from him,” Rafe said. “Lies to him. Gets Sarah to lie.”
“Rafe.”
“And suddenly Dad wants another son.”
You moved beside him. “Maybe he’s trying to help.”
“Of course he is.”
His voice sharpened. “John B needs help, and suddenly Ward Cameron is a fucking saint.”
You touched his arm. Rafe looked through the open door. Ward placed one hand on John B’s shoulder. Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Maybe he’ll get this one right.”
You took his hand. For a second, he resisted. Then his fingers closed around yours.
You remained beside him until his breathing slowed.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Everyone’s attention remained on John B.
Sarah sat near him while Ward spoke on the phone. Topper had left. Wheezie watched from the stairs. Rafe stood outside, refusing to come back in.
You crossed the hallway alone. Ward’s office door had been left partially open. A folder sat on the corner of his desk. You would have kept walking if one name had not caught your attention.
Scooter Grubbs.
You stopped. The folder remained partially open, exposing a payment record beneath Cameron company letterhead.
Scooter’s name appeared beside a cash amount. At the bottom was Ward’s signature. Your pulse quickened. You looked toward the hallway. No one was watching. You entered the office and removed the motel receipt from your clutch. The signatures matched perfectly. Same angle. Same sharp line beneath the last name.
Ward had paid Scooter for Room 23.
He had also made a separate company payment to him shortly before Hurricane Agatha. You returned the receipt to your clutch and stepped away from the desk.
Through the open doorway, Ward stood beside John B.
He spoke gently, offering him safety, protection, and a place inside his home. Then you looked through the front windows at Rafe.
He stood alone beneath the porch light, staring toward the road.
For the first time, you wondered whether Rafe was really the Cameron everyone should be worried about.
next
a/n: HAPPY MIDSUMMER WOOTWOOT also secret is finally out yaaay
warnings: mdni, smut, mentions of abuse, murder and drinking
word count: 9k
previous
The motel key sat beneath the beam of your desk lamp.
You had cleaned the mud from it with the corner of an old towel, revealing a faded blue tag attached to the metal ring. Most of the lettering had been scratched away, but a white bird remained visible above the partial word MAR—VIEW.
Room 23.
A local phone number had once been printed beneath it. Only the final four digits remained. You turned the key between your fingers.
You opened your laptop and searched every motel on the island containing the letters that remained. Nothing appeared.
You tried again, replacing missing letters and searching old tourism pages. Most of the businesses listed had closed years earlier. One had been converted into vacation rentals. Another had been destroyed during a hurricane before you were born.
Then you found an archived advertisement from nearly eight years ago.
MARSHVIEW MOTOR LODGE
The logo showed the same white bird above dark blue waves. The listing included an address near the Cut and a phone number ending in the same four digits engraved into the tag. You leaned back in your chair. It had taken less than twenty minutes.
John B had been searching the Cameron dock after midnight, stolen a boat registration, and accidentally left behind a key belonging to a run-down motel across the island.
None of those facts made sense together.
That only made you more interested. A car door slammed outside.
You quickly copied the motel’s address into your phone and closed the search page. Footsteps crossed the downstairs hallway.
Your parents were gone again, on some fancy trip to europe leaving you to watch the house; which meant only one person would enter without knocking.
Rafe called your name from the bottom of the stairs. You slipped the key beneath the notebook beside your laptop.
“In here.”
He appeared in your doorway seconds later. His hair was still damp, and he wore a pale shirt with the sleeves pushed above his elbows. He looked irritated, which had become his default expression since Hurricane Agatha.
“You ignored me,” he said. “I was busy.”
“With what?”
“Nothing important.” Rafe entered your room and glanced at the open laptop. You lowered the screen before he reached it. His eyes narrowed. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.”
“You just slammed your computer shut.”
“I closed it.”
“Same thing.” He stopped beside your chair.
You rested one hand over the notebook concealing the key. Rafe noticed. His gaze dropped to your fingers. “What’s under there?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m already worried about it.”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
Rafe reached for the notebook. You caught his wrist before he could move it. He looked at your hand and then back at you.
“Seriously?”
“Completely.”
“You know I’m going to find out.”
“Eventually.” His other hand moved toward the notebook.
You stood quickly, blocking the desk with your body. Rafe’s mouth curved. “You’re being suspicious.”
“You’re being annoying.”
“Move.”
“No.” He stepped forward until your back pressed against the desk. “Move,” he repeated. You wrapped your arms around his neck instead. Rafe paused. His eyes moved over your face, suspicion briefly overtaken by amusement.
“What are you doing?”
“Distracting you.”
“At least you’re honest about it.”
You pulled him closer and kissed him. Rafe resisted for approximately half a second. Then his hands settled around your waist. He kissed you back slowly, still smiling against your mouth as he pushed you more firmly against the desk. Your laptop shifted behind you, but the notebook remained in place. “You think this is going to make me forget?” he murmured. “Usually does.” “Not this time.” You kissed the corner of his mouth. “Sure.” Rafe’s fingers tightened against your waist.
He knew exactly what you were doing. He allowed it anyway. You merely ended up seated on your desk with him standing between your legs. His mouth moved along your jaw. “I’m still checking when you leave the room.”
“I’ll take it with me.”
“So there is something.” You caught his face between your hands. “I never said there wasn’t.” Rafe stared at you for a moment. “Whatever you’re doing,” he said, “don’t get yourself into something stupid.” You smiled faintly. “That’s rich coming from you.” His expression hardened. You noticed immediately. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Rafe.”
“I came here because I wanted to see you. Can you not turn it into an interrogation?” You studied him. The tension in his shoulders had little to do with the motel key. Before you could ask again, your phone vibrated across the desk. Sarah’s name illuminated the screen. Rafe glanced at it. “You answering?”
“Probably.”
“You always answer her.”
“Its Sarah.”
His hands remained on your hips.
“And what am I?”
You looked at him. Rafe attempted to make the question sound careless. It was not. “You’re currently blocking me from my phone.” He rolled his eyes but stepped aside. You answered before Sarah could call again.
“Hey.”
“Are you at home?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I come over?”
You looked at Rafe. He shook his head immediately. You ignored him. “Sure.” Rafe mouthed something rude. Sarah continued, “Actually, can we meet at Tannyhill? Wheezie wants ice cream later, and she’s been complaining for an hour.” Rafe heard his sister’s name. His annoyance deepened. You smiled at him. “Okay. Ya I can come over.” “Perfect. See you soon.” You ended the call. Rafe stared at you. “You’re leaving?”
“You arrived without asking.”
“And?”
“And Sarah asked.”
He stepped between your knees again. “Tell her you’re busy.” “With what?” His hands returned to your waist. “This.” You laughed and pushed against his chest.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Rafe.”
“You distracted me on purpose. There should be consequences.”
“You’re very dramatic.”
“And you’re still hiding something.” You slid off the desk, forcing him backward.
“You’ll survive.”
Rafe watched as you slipped the motel key into the hidden pocket of your purse. His eyes sharpened. You realized too late that he had noticed the movement.
“What was that?”
“Lip gloss.”
“That was not lip gloss.” You kissed him once before walking toward the door.
“Find out soon enough.”
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Sarah was waiting for you on the Tannyhill porch. The storm had damaged part of the railing, and several trees remained scattered across the lawn. Workers moved through the property carrying boards and tools while Ward spoke sharply into his phone near the driveway. You slowed when you saw him.
Ward Cameron was not easily frightened.
He was controlled, polished, and usually pleasant to you. He had known your family for years and treated you like another daughter whenever your parents were away. That almost made him worse.
You had witnessed the way his kindness disappeared whenever Rafe disappointed him. You had heard the sudden changes in his voice from the other side of closed doors. You had spent two years sneaking through his house and lying directly to his family. The idea of Ward discovering any of it made something tighten in your stomach.
Sarah followed your gaze. “Don’t worry. He’s been like that all day.”
“I’m not worried.”
“You look worried.” “I don’t.” She opened the front door. “You do.”
You stepped inside before Ward could notice you. Tannyhill smelled faintly of damp wood and saltwater. Candles still covered several surfaces even though part of the electricity had returned. Wheezie sat at the kitchen island eating cereal directly from the box. Sarah immediately took it from her. “We’re getting ice cream later.” “I’m hungry now.” “You’re always hungry.” Wheezie grabbed the box back. “That’s how being alive works.” You laughed and sat beside her. Sarah began filling a glass with water. She appeared unusually distracted.
“What happened?” you asked. “Nothing.” Wheezie made a sound through a mouthful of cereal. Sarah glared at her. You looked between them. “What?” “John B came by,” Wheezie announced. Sarah set the glass down harder than necessary. “Wheezie.” “What? She was going to find out.” “Find out what?” you asked. Sarah turned toward you. “He returned the scuba equipment.” Your expression remained neutral.
“The equipment he stole?”
“He borrowed it.”
“Without permission.”
“He brought it back.”
Wheezie leaned toward you. “They had a moment.”
“We did not.”
“You were smiling.”
“I smile at people.”
“Not like that.”
Sarah pointed toward the hallway. “Go upstairs.”
“No.”
“Wheezie.”
“You said we were getting ice cream.”
“We are.”
“Then I’m staying.”
Sarah looked at you as though expecting help. You shrugged. “She has a point.”
“Both of you are irritating.”
She leaned against the counter. You waited. Sarah picked at the edge of one fingernail. “He seemed distracted when he was here.”
“John B?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing important.”
Wheezie snorted. Sarah threw a napkin at her. You watched Sarah carefully.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.”
“That sounded convincing.” Sarah exhaled. “He asked me about the storm damage. That’s it.”
“He came all the way back here to return stolen scuba gear and discuss the weather?”
“He didn’t steal it.”
“Sarah.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t know. He was acting strange.”
You thought of John B standing among the wreckage with the stolen registration in his hand.
“I saw him later,” you said. Sarah’s posture changed. “Where?”
“Near the dock.”
“When?”
“After midnight.” Wheezie stopped eating. Sarah stared at you. “What was he doing?”
“Searching through the storm damage.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.” That was not entirely a lie.
Sarah moved closer.
“Did he take anything?”
You hesitated. You had seen him leave with a document. You had also seen him drop the motel key currently hidden in your purse.
“I couldn’t tell.” Sarah lowered her voice.
“You’re not going to tell Dad, right?” Wheezie glanced toward the doorway. You looked at Sarah.
“If he asks me directly, I’m not lying.”
“You don’t have to tell him everything.”
“He came onto your property in the middle of the night.”
“He probably had a reason.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know John B.”
“No, you don’t.” Her expression tightened. “You don’t know him either.”
“I know he stole from your family and came back after midnight.”
“He returned the gear.”
“And then searched the dock.” Sarah looked toward the open kitchen door to ensure Ward was not nearby. “Just leave it alone.” You stared at her. “Why do you care so much?”
“I don’t.”
“Then why are you asking me to hide it?”
“I’m asking you not to make it into something bigger.”
“If Ward asks, I’m telling him what I saw.” Sarah stepped closer. “Why? He isn’t your father.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does.” She studied your expression. “Are you scared of him?”
“No.” The answer came too quickly. Sarah noticed. You looked away before she could examine you further.
“I’m not lying to Ward for John B.”
“No one asked you to lie.”
“You asked me not to tell him.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“It is when he asks directly.” Sarah shook her head.
“You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Act like Dad and Rafe are automatically right about everything.” Your jaw tightened.
“I didn’t say Rafe was right about anything.”
“You don’t have to.”
Wheezie looked between you with open interest. Sarah grabbed her purse from the counter.
“Come on.”
“Where are we going?” Wheezie asked.
“For ice cream.”
“You two are fighting.”
“We can fight in the car.”
You followed Sarah through the hallway. As you passed the study, Ward stepped into the doorway. Your steps slowed. His expression softened when he saw you.
“Hey. How are your parents?”
“Good. They’re in europe for the next month.”
“We’re happy to have you here as long as you need.”
“Thank you.” Ward glanced at Sarah and Wheezie.
“Where are you three going?”
“Ice cream,” Wheezie answered. Sarah opened the front door. Ward looked back at you.
“Can I ask you something first?” Your stomach tightened. Sarah stopped. “What?” she asked. Ward’s gaze remained on you. “Sarah said you were here late last night.” You could feel her watching you. “I was.”
“Did you notice anyone near the dock?” The room seemed to become quieter. Sarah’s face warned you not to answer. You touched the strap of your purse. “Yea I saw someone as I was leaving.” Ward’s expression changed. “Who?” You swallowed. “John B.” Sarah looked away. Ward asked, “What was he doing?”
“Searching through the wreckage.”
“Did he take anything?”
You thought of the registration. Then the motel key.
“I couldn’t see.” That was the lie you could manage.
Ward nodded once. “Thank you.” You forced a smile.
Sarah walked outside without waiting for you.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
The ice-cream shop had reopened using a generator.
Half the menu was unavailable, and the card reader did not work, but Wheezie ordered enough for three people while Sarah sat silently at a table near the window. You paid in cash and carried the cups over. Sarah didn't thank you. Wheezie slid into the seat beside her.
“You’re upset.”
“Why would I be?” she deadpanned
“You’re making the face.”
“What face?”
“The one you make when Topper likes another girl’s post.” Sarah glared at her. You sat across from them. Wheezie immediately began eating. Sarah stabbed her spoon into the melting ice cream.
“Dad fired John B.” You paused. “When?” “Twenty minutes ago.” You looked at her. “He called you?” “No. Topper did.” Wheezie raised her head slightly. “I told Topper about the boat.” Sarah turned toward her. “You what?” Wheezie shrugged. “He asked why you were acting weird.”
“So you told him about John B?”
“You were flirting with him.”
“I was not.”
“You touched his arm.”
“That isn’t flirting.”
“You hate when girls touch Topper’s arm.” Sarah stared at her.
Wheezie returned to her ice cream. You attempted not to smile. Sarah noticed. “This isn’t funny.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“Topper told Dad about the scuba equipment. Then Dad asked you about the dock.”
You folded your arms. “You already knew I wasn’t going to lie.”
“You could’ve left some of it out.”
“He asked whether John B came back. I said yes.”
“You made it sound like he was breaking into the house.”
“I said he was searching the dock.”
“That was enough.”
“That isn’t my fault.”
Sarah leaned forward. “You knew what Dad would do.”
“He stole from your family.”
“He returned it.”
“And came back for something else.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You said you didn’t see him take anything.”
“I didn’t.” That lie came more easily.
Sarah studied you. Wheezie scraped her spoon along the bottom of her cup. “You care an awful lot about a guy you supposedly don’t like.”
Sarah kicked her beneath the table. Wheezie yelped.
“Stop kicking me!”
“Stop talking.”
“You’re the one being obvious.”
Sarah looked toward the window. You watched the color rise in her cheeks. “Did something happen with John B?” you asked. “No.”
“You’re blushing.”
“I’m angry.”
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”
Sarah turned back toward you. “This is exactly what I mean. You’re acting like I did something wrong when you’re the one who told Dad.”
“I answered a question.”
“You helped him fire someone.”
“John B made that easy.”
“You don’t even like Dad.” You glanced around the nearly empty shop. “Keep your voice down.”
“Why? Are you scared he’ll hear us from across the island?”
“I already told you I’m not scared of him.”
“Then why are you acting like lying to him is impossible?”
Because Ward had known you since childhood. Because you had watched him reduce Rafe to silence with a single look. Because every time Ward smiled at you, you remembered sneaking out of his son’s bedroom before sunrise. Because if he discovered your relationship, you did not know what he would do to Rafe.
You lifted your spoon. “I’m not discussing this here.” Sarah laughed without humor. “Of course not.”
Wheezie looked between both of you.
“This ice cream trip is terrible.”
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
When you reached Tannyhill, Ward’s voice carried across the front lawn.
“What did you do with the generator money?”
You stopped beside your car.
Rafe stood near the damaged porch with his shoulders rigid. Ward faced him several feet away. Sarah and Wheezie had already entered through the side door without noticing them. You remained near the driveway.
Rafe’s jaw flexed. “I told you, I’m handling it.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“The generators weren’t available.”
“So where’s the money?” Rafe did not answer. Ward laughed once. It contained no humor. “You bought the bike.” Rafe looked away. “You took money meant to repair this house and bought yourself a motorcycle.”
“I was going to replace it.”
“With what?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“That’s always your answer.” Ward stepped closer. “You know who was here this morning? John B. The kid you keep calling trash. He returned what he took and apologized.” Rafe’s eyes hardened. Ward continued. “And you? You were given one responsibility, and you spent the money on yourself.”
“John B stole from you.”
“At least he knows how to work.”
Rafe’s face changed. You felt something cold move through your chest. Ward pointed toward the driveway. “For once in your life, make yourself useful. Find the generators or find the money.” Rafe laughed bitterly.
“And if I don’t?”
“Maybe you should spend some time on the Cut. See how long that attitude lasts when my name isn’t protecting you.”
Ward turned and walked toward the house. He noticed you beside your car. For one uncomfortable second, neither of you spoke. Then his expression became pleasant again.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He entered the house. Rafe remained near the porch. You approached carefully. He didn't, no- couldnt, face you.
“You heard that?”
“Most of it.”
“Then pretend you didn’t.”
“Rafe.”
“Don’t.”
You stopped in front of him. His hands were clenched at his sides. “You bought the motorcycle with the generator money?” He laughed sharply.
“Are you going to lecture me too?”
“No.”
“That would be new.”
“You should have told me.”
“Why?”
“Because I could’ve helped.”
“There it is.”
“What?”
“You always think you can fix everything.”
You stared at him. “I’m trying to help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Your father just threatened to throw you out.”
“He threatens a lot of things.”
“That doesn’t make it normal.” Rafe looked toward the house. His voice lowered. “You heard him.”
“Yes.”
“He thinks John B is better than me.”
“I don’t care what Ward thinks.”
“Well, I do.”
The admission escaped before he could stop it. Rafe looked away. Your anger softened. You stepped closer and placed one hand against his chest. He remained rigid. “I’m not Sarah,” you said quietly. “You don’t have to pretend with me.” His eyes lifted to yours. For a moment, the fury disappeared. Underneath it was something younger.
Hurt.
Rafe caught your wrist, but instead of pushing your hand away, he held it against him. “You shouldn’t have heard that.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Because you think it makes you look weak?” His jaw tightened. You moved closer. “It doesn’t.”
“You don’t have to lie.”
“I’m not.”
Rafe looked toward the house again, ensuring no one could see you. Then he lowered his forehead to yours. The contact was brief and almost hesitant. You slipped your free hand around the back of his neck. “He’s wrong,” you whispered. Rafe’s fingers tightened around your wrist. “You don’t even know what he’s wrong about.” “Yes, I do.” His eyes closed.
You kissed him once, softly.
He did not deepen it or pull you against him the way he normally would. He simply stood there with your hand against his chest, breathing slowly until the tension in his shoulders loosened.
When he finally stepped away, his expression had hardened again.
“I have to handle something.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Does this involve the generator money?”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
Rafe moved toward the driveway. You followed. “Where are you going?”
“I said I’m handling it.”
“Rafe.” He stopped beside his motorcycle.
You hated how much the bike suited him. You hated more that it had become another reason for Ward to despise him. Rafe picked up the helmet.
“Go home.”
“That sounded like an order.”
“It was.”
You stared at him. He sighed. His voice softened slightly.
“Please.”
That stopped you. Rafe rarely said please. You stepped back.
“Call me.”
“I will.”
“You won’t.”
He placed the helmet over his head. “I’ll see you later.”
“Rafe.”
He looked at you through the visor.
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
He started the engine. The sound swallowed his answer.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Rafe did not call.
He returned your message hours later with two words.
rafe: Handled it.
You knew enough about him to understand that this meant the opposite.
The next afternoon, he appeared at your house with a small cut near his eyebrow and an attitude that suggested asking about it would result in an argument.
You asked anyway. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s barely a cut.”
“Did Barry do that?”
His eyes snapped toward you. You had guessed. That was almost more concerning. “Why would you say Barry?”
“Because you owed him money before the storm.”
Rafe entered your bedroom and shut the door behind him. “How do you know that?”
“You told me.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You complain when you’re drunk.”
“I don’t.”
“You really do.”
He rubbed one hand over his jaw. You watched him carefully.
“What did you do?”
“Made a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“The kind that solves the problem.”
“That was vague enough to be threatening.”
Rafe sat on the edge of your bed. You moved between his knees. He placed his hands on your hips automatically, even while avoiding your eyes.
“Did you borrow more money?”
“No.”
“Did you take more product?” Silence. “Rafe.”
“I can sell it.”
“You already owe him.”
“I know.”
“So you borrowed more?”
“I didn’t borrow it.”
“What did you give him?”
His fingers pressed into your hips. “Collateral.” Your stomach tightened. “What?”
“The bike.” You stared at him. “You put up your motorcycle?”
“It’s temporary.”
“For cocaine?”
“For enough product to make the money back.”
“You bought the motorcycle with Ward’s generator money, and now you’ve promised it to Barry so he’ll give you more drugs to sell.”
“When you say it like that, it sounds bad.”
“How else would I say it?” Rafe looked up at you. “I have two days.”
“To do what?”
“Pay him.”
“And if you don’t?” His expression answered before he did.
You cupped his jaw and examined the cut. “Did he hit you?”
“No.”
“Then where did this come from?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
Rafe leaned into your touch despite the irritation in his voice. “He had someone there. We disagreed.”
“You should’ve called me.”
“You would’ve come.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s why I didn’t.”
You stared at him. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer until you stood between his legs.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m some injured animal.”
“You are injured.”
“Barely.”
You brushed your thumb beneath the cut. Rafe caught your wrist and kissed your palm.
“I’m handling it.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I am.”
You looked down at him. Rafe’s confidence was convincing to everyone who did not know him. You knew the difference between arrogance and panic. This was panic. He rested his cheek against your stomach. The gesture was so uncharacteristically gentle that you stopped arguing. Your fingers moved through his hair. Rafe closed his eyes.
For several minutes, neither of you spoke.
Then you began forming a plan.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Barry’s trailer was easier to find than you expected.
Ethan had given you enough information at the Boneyard to narrow the location to a road near the marsh. After that, you only had to look for Rafe’s motorcycle. It sat outside the trailer the following morning.
You parked far enough away that your car would not be recognized.
You had changed before leaving home.
Your hair was hidden beneath a dark wig cut several inches shorter than your own. You wore inexpensive sunglasses, faded jeans, and a loose shirt you would never normally choose. Your jewelry remained at home, and you had altered your makeup enough to change the shape of your eyes.
It would not withstand close inspection.
It didn't need to. Barry’s truck was absent. You waited.
No one entered or left the trailer.
When you finally approached, you kept your movements casual. The door opened with less resistance than expected. You stepped inside. The trailer smelled like cigarettes, sweat, and something chemical.
You ignored the drugs scattered across the table. You searched only long enough to find what Rafe needed.
Cash was hidden inside an old tin beneath a stack of papers. More sat inside a kitchen drawer.
You took a thick portion without emptying either hiding place.
Barry would notice. You wanted him to.
You returned everything else precisely where you found it. Then you left.
Your pulse did not settle until the trailer disappeared behind you.
Cricket operated from an old fish-processing building near the edge of the marsh.
You had never met him before, but you had heard enough from Ethan to know he supplied people like Barry and expected loyalty in return.
You parked behind a convenience store and walked the remaining distance.
A man near the entrance stopped you.
“What do you want?”
“I need to speak to Cricket.”
“About?”
“Barry.”
His expression changed.
“Name?”
You had prepared one.
“Lena.”
“Lena what?”
“Does he need my last name?”
He studied you.
You allowed nervousness to show.
Not too much.
Just enough to suggest you were afraid of Barry rather than manipulating anyone.
The man disappeared inside. Several minutes later, a man emerged.
Cricket looked you over without greeting you.
“You know Barry?”
“A little.”
“What’s a little?”
You glanced toward the road as though concerned someone had followed you. Cricket noticed. “Relax,” he said. “Nobody’s here.” You lowered your voice. “He talks too much.”
“About what?”
“Mostly about how nobody checks what he brings in anymore.”
Cricket’s expression remained unchanged.
“He said that?”
You hesitated.
“Maybe I misunderstood him.”
“What exactly did he say?”
“That people only know what he tells them. That he could keep half of what he makes and nobody would notice.” You looked down. “I shouldn’t have come.” Cricket stepped closer.
“When did he say this?”
“A few nights ago.”
“Where?”
“At his place.”
His eyes moved over your disguise.
“You with him?”
“No.”
“Then why were you there?”
You let embarrassment cross your face. “It doesn’t matter.” That answer suggested enough without requiring details. Cricket studied you for several seconds.
“Did Barry send you?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“No one.”
“Then why tell me?”
You glanced toward the road again.
“Because he’s getting reckless.”
“With you?”
“With everyone.”
You stepped backward. “I made a mistake coming here.” Cricket did not stop you.
That was the point. He remained outside the building, watching as you walked away. By the time you reached your car, the seed had already been planted. Barry had missing money.
Cricket now had a reason to question whether he had taken it himself.
You removed the wig only after returning to Figure Eight.
Then you called Rafe. He answered on the second ring.
“What?”
“Hello to you too.”
“Where are you?”
“Why?”
“You’ve been ignoring me.”
“I’ve been busy baby.”
“With what?”
You looked at the cash hidden beneath the passenger seat.
“Nothing important.”
Rafe became quiet. “You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“The one where you say nothing happened right before something terrible happens.”
You smiled despite yourself.
“I guess you can only expect trouble from me.”
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Sarah cornered you that afternoon.
You had returned to Tannyhill to pick up a dress she had borrowed months earlier. Instead, you found her waiting in the upstairs hallway with her arms crossed.
“We need to talk.”
“Those are never comforting words.”
“About John B.”
You continued toward her bedroom. Sarah followed. “I thought we already did.” “No. You decided you were right and stopped listening.” You placed your purse on the bed. “I listened.”
“You told Dad before talking to me.”
“He asked me directly.”
“You keep saying that like you didn’t have a choice.”
“I didn’t.”
“You always have a choice.” You turned toward her. “Why did I need your permission to tell Ward that someone trespassed on his property?”
“Because it involved me.”
“It involved John B.”
“And me.”
“How?” Sarah hesitated. You noticed. “What happened between you?”
“Nothing.”
“Then it didn’t involve you.”
She shook her head. “You’re impossible.”
“No, I’m confused. You barely know him, but suddenly you’re defending him to everyone.”
“He’s not what you think.”
“I don’t think anything about him.”
“You clearly do.”
“I think he stole scuba equipment, came back after midnight, and took something from your dock.”
Sarah froze. “You said you didn’t see him take anything.”
“I saw him searching.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No, it isn’t.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re hiding something.” “So are you.” Sarah stepped closer.
“Do you know what your problem is?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“You act like everyone owes you an explanation while you never give anyone one.” You became still. Sarah continued before you could answer. “You disappear constantly. You lie about where you’ve been. You know things you shouldn’t know, and whenever I ask, you change the subject.”
“That has nothing to do with John B.”
“It has everything to do with this.”
“How?”
“You expect me to tell you exactly what happened with him while you won’t even tell me who you’ve been seeing.”
You looked away.
That silenced you because she was right.
Sarah’s anger softened slightly.
“Is this really about John B?”
“Yes.”
“Or are you still angry because I spend time with Topper?”
You looked back at her.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Its true, isnt it?”
“No.”
“You’ve been mad at me for months.”
“I’m not mad.”
“You complain every time I cancel.”
“Because you always cancel fifteen minutes before we do anything.”
“I have a boyfriend.”
“You have a boyfriend you claim to hate every other week.”
“I don’t hate him.”
“You insult him constantly.”
“So do you.”
“I’m not dating him.” Sarah rolled her eyes. You folded your arms. “If you hate Topper so much, break up with him.”
“I said I don’t hate him.”
“Then stop acting like you do. And if you’re interested in John B, end things with Topper. Secrets get you nowhere and you know that Sarah."
The hypocrisy of the sentence sat heavily between your ribs.
Sarah stared at you. “I’m not cheating.”
“Then what happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “I thought he was interesting. That’s it.”
“You flirted with him.”
“Oh my God.”
“Wheezie noticed too.”
“Wheezie thinks touching someone’s arm is a marriage proposal.”
You remained standing. Sarah looked down at her hands.
“I know I’ve been spending too much time with Topper.”
Your anger shifted. She continued.
“I didn’t realize how much until you said something.”
“I’ve said something several times.”
“You usually say it while insulting him.”
“That doesn’t make it less true.”
Sarah smiled faintly. Then her expression became serious again.
Then Sarah said, “Next time something involves me, talk to me before you talk to my dad.”
You nodded slowly.
“Then next time you ask me to protect you, tell me the whole truth first.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Neither of you intended to keep the agreement completely.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
The party began after sunset.
A Kook whose parents had evacuated before the hurricane opened his house to nearly everyone on Figure Eight. The lower floor quickly filled with music, alcohol, and people pretending the island had returned to normal.
You arrived in your own car.
Sarah and Topper came together.
Rafe appeared twenty minutes later with Kelce, his motorcycle nowhere in sight.
You noticed immediately. He found you across the crowded living room. His expression softened for half a second. Then he remembered other people were watching. Rafe approached with a drink in one hand.
“You look bored.”
“I’ve been here fifteen minutes.”
“Exactly.”
His free hand brushed the small of your back as he moved past you. The touch lasted less than a second. It still changed your breathing.
Kelce handed you a cup. You smelled it before drinking. “What is this?”
“Something good.”
“That isn’t an ingredient.”
“It has vodka.”
“So does paint thinner.”
Kelce laughed and disappeared toward the kitchen. Rafe remained beside you. His attention shifted toward Topper, who stood near the staircase. You followed his gaze. Topper accepted a small bag from him. Your stomach dropped. “Are you serious?” Rafe looked at you. “About what?” “You know exactly what.” He took a sip of his drink. You lowered your voice. “You put your motorcycle up for that, and now you’re giving it away?”
“Topper will pay me.”
“He’s your best friend. You’re not making him pay.”
“He said he would.”
“And you believed him?”
Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Relax.”
“That word makes me want to hit you.”
His eyes moved over your face. Anyone else speaking to him that way would have started a fight. Instead, Rafe stepped closer and slid one arm around your waist. The gesture appeared casual to everyone else. His thumb pressed against your hip “I’m handling it,” he murmured.
“You’re giving away the product you’re supposed to sell.”
“He’ll pay me later.”
“You have two days.”
“I know.”
“Barry has your motorcycle.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you acting like none of this matters?”
Rafe glanced toward the people surrounding you. His voice lowered further “Because I’m not discussing this here.” “You’re the one doing it here.” His grip tightened. “You done?” “No.” A faint smile touched his mouth. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”
“Do not.”
“What?”
“Try distracting me.”
“You distracted me yesterday.”
“That was different.”
“Why?”
“Because it worked.”
Rafe leaned closer. His mouth hovered near your ear. “This will too.” You felt his lips brush the sensitive skin beneath it.
Then Sarah appeared beside you. “What are you two whispering about?” Rafe stepped back. You lifted your drink. “How annoying he is.” Sarah looked between you. “You’ve been getting along suspiciously well lately.” Rafe smiled. “She loves me.” You nearly choked on your drink. Sarah laughed. “In your dreams.” Rafe looked directly at you. “Something like that.” Sarah missed the meaning. You did not.
Topper called her name from across the room. She immediately turned toward him. Rafe watched her leave. Then his gaze returned to you.
“Come outside.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You’re high.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re touching your nose.”
His hand dropped. You raised your eyebrows. Rafe caught your wrist and pulled you through the crowd.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
By the time you reached the driveway, Sarah and Topper were already leaving.
Topper opened the passenger door for her.
Sarah looked back at you. “You have your car, right?”
“Yes.”
“Text me when you get home.”
“You too.”
She climbed inside. Topper’s car disappeared down the road.
Rafe stood behind you. “Looks like she abandoned you.”
“She left with her boyfriend.”
“Same thing.”
“You’re very needy tonight.” His hand settled against your lower back. “Get in.”
“My car is over there.”
“I know.”
“Then why would I get into yours?”
Rafe opened the passenger door. “Because I asked nicely.”
“You ordered me.”
“Still used words.”
You stared at him. He leaned one arm against the roof of the car. “Please.” There it was again. That small softness he seemed capable of showing only when no one else could see. You climbed inside. Rafe rounded the car and entered the driver’s side. He didn't start the engine. You looked at him. “What?” “Where were you earlier?” You leaned back against the seat. “Where were you when Barry took your motorcycle?” His eyes narrowed. “You’re stealing my lines now?”
“Someone should use them properly.”
Rafe turned toward you. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“You disappeared all morning.”
“I have a life.”
“You used that excuse with Sarah.”
“How do you know what I say to Sarah?”
“I know you.”
His attention moved to your purse. You shifted it farther away. Rafe noticed. He reached across the console. You caught his hand.
“Don’t.”
“What’s in there?”
“Lip gloss.”
“That excuse didn’t work yesterday.”
You released his wrist and moved closer. Rafe smiled faintly.
“You going to distract me again?”
“Maybe.”
His gaze dropped to your mouth. “You’re getting predictable.”
“You’re still falling for it.”
You climbed across the console and settled onto his lap. Rafe’s hands immediately closed around your hips. The position forced your sundress higher over your thighs. His eyes darkened. “You planned this.”
“I didn’t.”
“Liar.”
You kissed him before he could question you again. Rafe responded instantly. His mouth moved roughly over yours, one hand sliding up your back while the other pulled your hips closer. The steering wheel pressed against your back, but you barely noticed.
He kissed you like the entire party had been an inconvenience he had tolerated only to reach this moment.
Your fingers tangled in his hair. Rafe tilted your head and deepened the kiss.
His tongue moved against yours. You shifted on his lap. The movement dragged your body against the hardness beneath his pants. Rafe’s grip tightened sharply.
“Careful.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you don’t listen.”
You rolled your hips again. His head fell back against the seat. A rough breath escaped him. Rafe looked at you. The softness in his gaze disappeared beneath something darker. “You think that’s funny?”
“A little.”
He pulled you down against him. The sudden friction made your breath catch. Rafe watched your expression closely. Then he did it again.
Your dress had gathered around your hips, leaving only the thin fabric of your underwear and his pants between you. Every movement sent heat tightening low in your stomach.
Rafe’s mouth returned to yours. His hands guided your hips into a slow rhythm against him. You attempted to remain quiet. He noticed.
“You can make noise.”
“We’re in a driveway.”
“Everyone’s inside.”
“That has never stopped Sarah from appearing at the worst moment.”
Rafe kissed along your jaw. “She left.”
His lips moved beneath your ear. You tilted your head despite yourself. “That doesn’t mean everyone else did.”
“I don’t care about everyone else.”
His teeth grazed your neck. You tightened your fingers in his hair.
“I know.”
Rafe sucked against your skin. You immediately pulled his head back. “Don’t.”
His eyes met yours.
“What?”
“You know what.”
“Do I?”
“You’re going to leave a mark.”
“Good.”
“Rafe.”
He kissed the same spot again. You tried pushing his shoulder, but he caught your hand and pressed it against the seat beside your head. His mouth returned to your neck. The slow pressure made your body move against him without permission. Rafe groaned quietly. His free hand slipped beneath the back of your dress, palm spreading across your bare skin. “You’re doing that on purpose,” you whispered. “So are you.” He guided your hips forward. You gasped. Rafe lifted his head. For all the possession in his expression, his eyes moved carefully over your face. “You good?” The question was quiet. You nodded. “Say it.” “I’m good.” His thumb stroked once across your hip.
Then he kissed you again. You pressed closer, grinding down against him as his mouth covered yours. His hand moved beneath the front of your dress, sliding over your stomach before cupping your breast through your bra. The touch sent another pulse through you. Rafe felt it. His thumb brushed over your nipple through the fabric. You broke the kiss with a sharp inhale. He smiled against your mouth.
“Still mad at me?”
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
“You’re still an idiot.”
“And you’re in my lap.”
His hand tightened around your breast. Your hips moved harder against him. Rafe’s breathing became uneven.
He buried his face against your neck and held you firmly against him, allowing you to set the pace for several seconds before taking control again.
The windows had begun to fog. Your lipgloss was smeared across his mouth. Rafe’s hair had fallen over his forehead. He looked less angry than he had all week.
You kissed him slower. His hands softened against your waist. For a moment, the urgency faded.
Rafe brushed his nose against yours.
“Come to Midsummers with me.”
You stared at him.
“I’m already your date.”
“I know.”
“You asked me two weeks ago.”
“I’m reminding you.”
“Why?”
“Because you like making things difficult.”
You almost smiled. Then you remembered Sarah.
“We have to tell her.”
Rafe’s expression changed. You felt the shift beneath your hands.
“Not now.”
“You always say that.”
“She’s with Topper.”
“She’s always with Topper.”
“We’re at a party.”
“And yesterday we were at my house. Last week we were in your room. There is always a reason.”
Rafe kissed you again. You turned your face away. His mouth landed against your cheek.
“Don’t distract me.”
“You like when I distract you.”
“That isn’t the point.” His hands remained at your hips. You looked at him. “It’s been two years.”
“I know.”
“She nearly figured it out while we were getting ready for the Boneyard.”
“But she didn’t.”
“She asked if I was seeing someone.”
Rafe’s eyes sharpened. “What did you say?”
“What do you think I said?”
He relaxed slightly. That irritated you more. You began lifting yourself from his lap. Rafe’s arms tightened around your waist immediately.
“Where are you going?”
“To my car.”
“No.”
“Let me go.”
“No.”
You stared at him. “Then answer me.”
“We’ll tell her.”
“When?”
Rafe looked away. You tried moving again. His arms tightened further. “Before Midsummers.” You stopped. “What?”
“We tell her before Midsummers.”
“I’m already your date.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you still acting terrified of your little sister?”
“I’m not terrified of Sarah.”
“Then let me go.”
Rafe’s jaw tightened. You attempted to climb off his lap again. He pulled you back. “Stay.”
“Give me a reason.”
“Because I said we’ll tell her.”
“That isn’t the reason.”
His hands pressed firmly against your lower back. You waited. Rafe looked at you with an expression you rarely saw. Uncertain. “Because I don’t want you changing your mind.” The anger left you. “About telling her?”
“About me.”
His voice was quieter than before. You stared at him.
Rafe did not care whether Sarah approved of him. He barely cared whether she spoke to him. What frightened him was the possibility that Sarah’s anger would make you reconsider the relationship. That you would decide two years of secrets had cost too much. You placed one hand against his cheek. “I’m not changing my mind.”
“You don’t know how she’ll react.”
“I know.”
“She’ll blame me.”
“She blames you for everything.”
“She’ll make you choose.”
You looked into his eyes. “I already did.”
Rafe became still.
You had chosen him the night you climbed through his window. You had continued choosing him every day since. His arms loosened slightly, but he did not release you.
“Before Midsummers,” you repeated. He nodded. “Before Midsummers.”
“Promise?”
Rafe looked irritated by the question.
You waited. “I promise.”
You kissed him.
This time, Rafe’s hands held you gently. Then his mouth returned to the mark on your neck.
You pulled away.
“Are you serious?”
“What?”
“You know exactly what.”
Rafe smiled.
“Wear your hair down.”
“Sarah is going to see it.”
“Then tell her.”
“You just promised before Midsummers, not in the driveway tonight.”
He kissed the mark once more. “Could speed things up.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You love me.”
You looked at him. Rafe’s expression shifted, as though he had not meant to say it so plainly.
You kissed him before he could take it back.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Rafe did not tell you about Pope immediately.
You found out the following afternoon when he appeared at your house with blood dried across his knuckles. He attempted to keep one hand inside his pocket. You noticed before he reached the stairs.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Take your hand out.”
Rafe continued walking. You blocked the hallway.
“Move.”
“No.”
“I’m not doing this.”
“Then show me.”
He looked toward the empty living room. “No one’s here,” you said. Rafe pulled his hand from his pocket. Two knuckles were split. The skin around them had already begun swelling. You stared at him. “Who?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Who'd you beat to a pulp this time?”
Rafe pushed past you. You followed him into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator. “Do you have anything to drink?”
“Water.”
“Anything useful?”
“No.”
He shut the door. You grabbed his wrist. Rafe looked down at your hand. “What happened?” He exhaled. “Topper and I handled something.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the one you’re getting.”
You guided him toward a chair. To your surprise, he sat. You retrieved the first-aid kit. Rafe watched as you cleaned the dried blood. He flinched when the cloth touched the deepest cut. You looked up. “Pope.” His silence confirmed it. “Why?”
“Because of what happened at the Boneyard.”
“JJ pulled the gun.”
“He was there.”
“So were fifty other people.”
“He’s a Pogue.”
“That isn't an explanation.”
Rafe’s jaw tightened. “He was running his mouth.”
“So you and Topper attacked him?”
“He deserved it.”
“For being near JJ?”
“You weren’t there.”
“No, because you didn’t tell me.”
“You would’ve tried stopping me.”
“Yea I would've.”
“Exactly.”
You wrapped gauze around his hand. Rafe watched your face.
“You think I’m a piece of shit.”
“I think you keep giving everyone reasons to treat you like one.”
His expression closed. You finished securing the bandage.
For a moment, you thought he would leave. Instead, Rafe looked down at his hand.
“You’re still here.”
“Unfortunately.”
His mouth twitched faintly. You placed the supplies aside. Rafe caught your waist and pulled you between his knees. You allowed it. His forehead rested against your stomach.
The same position as the day before. You moved your fingers through his hair.
“Pope didn’t deserve that.” Rafe said nothing. “You know he didn’t.”
His arms tightened around you.
“I was angry.”
“You’re always angry.”
“I know.”
The admission softened you despite yourself. You bent and kissed the top of his head. “Next time, call me before you do something stupid.”
“You say that like there won’t be a next time.”
“There will absolutely be a next time.”
Rafe laughed quietly against you.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Topper’s boat began sinking before sunset.
You had gone to the Island Club with Sarah, mostly because neither of you wanted to remain angry after the John B argument.
She was inside ordering drinks when you stepped toward the dock.
Two figures moved quickly near the far end. JJ and Pope.
You recognized them immediately. Pope walked stiffly, one hand pressed against his side. His face was bruised, and he kept glancing over his shoulder. JJ said something you could not hear. They disappeared between two storage buildings.
You looked toward the dock. Topper’s boat sat unusually low in the water. At first, you assumed the tide had shifted.
Then someone shouted. Water had begun filling the lower compartment. Topper came running from the club. “What the hell?” Several workers rushed toward the boat. Sarah appeared behind you.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
Topper jumped onto the dock. “My boat is sinking!”
“That appears to be what’s happening,” Sarah said. He glared at her. “This isn’t funny.” Rafe arrived several minutes later. The second he saw the boat, his expression hardened. “The Pogues.” Sarah crossed her arms. “You don’t know that.”
“Who else would do it?”
“You have no proof.”
Rafe looked at you. You had not spoken. His eyes narrowed slightly. Topper continued shouting at the workers. Sarah attempted to calm him.
Rafe moved closer to you. “You saw something.”
“Maybe.”
“Who?”
You looked toward the space where JJ and Pope had disappeared. Then back at him. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”
Recognition moved across Rafe’s face. He knew you were using his own words.
For a moment, you expected him to press you. He did not. His gaze dropped to your mouth.
Then to the faint mark he had left on your neck, partially hidden beneath your hair.
“You’re getting good at that.”
“At what?”
“Keeping things from me.” You smiled faintly. “I learned from you.”
Rafe’s expression suggested he was not sure whether to be proud or concerned. He placed one hand at the small of your back. Sarah glanced toward you. Rafe removed it before she could fully register the touch.
Topper’s boat continued sinking. You remained silent.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Several days later, Rafe layed across your bed while a movie played quietly from the television. He had chosen it and stopped paying attention within ten minutes. His bandaged hand rested against your thigh. You sat beside him with your back against the headboard, pretending to watch while thinking about the cash hidden in your closet.
Barry’s deadline had passed. Rafe had said nothing about the debt. That worried you more than if he had complained.
You reached for the remote and paused the movie. Rafe opened one eye. “What?”
“I have something for you.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“It might be.”
He sat up slowly. You crossed the room and removed the cash from beneath a stack of sweaters. Rafe stared when you placed it on the bed.
“What is that?”
“Money.”
“I can see that.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“Where did you get it?”
You returned to the bed. Rafe looked from the money to you. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Stop saying that.”
“You say it constantly.”
“Yeah, and you never believe me.”
“Exactly.” He picked up the stack and counted enough to understand the amount.
“This is more than you gave me last time.”
“I know.”
Rafe dropped it back onto the bed. “I’m not taking it.” You stared at him. “You need it.”
“No.”
“Barry has your motorcycle.”
“I’ll get it back.”
“With what?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“You have the money directly in front of you.”
“It’s not mine.”
“It isn’t mine either.”
His eyes narrowed. “That answer made this worse.” You pushed the stack toward him. “Take it.” Rafe pushed it back.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I still owe you from last time.”
“You said you loved me when I gave you that.”
“I do love you.”
“Then take this too.”
“That isn’t how that works.”
“Since when do you care where money comes from?”
“Since it came from you.”
You became quiet. Rafe looked away as though irritated with himself for saying it. “I’m not using you to pay Barry.”
“You’re not using me. I’m offering.”
“And I’m saying no.”
“You could lose your bike.”
“I dont care about the bike"
"He could hurt you.”
Rafe’s expression hardened. “He won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I can handle Barry.”
“You said you could handle the debt the first time.” His jaw tightened.
You regretted the words immediately but did not take them back.
Rafe stood. “I should go.” You caught his wrist. “Don’t.” He looked down at you. “I’m trying to help.”
“I know.”
“Then stop making it impossible.”
Rafe remained silent. You softened your grip.
“Why won’t you let me do this?”
His gaze moved to the cash. Then back to you. “Because you keep cleaning up everything I ruin.” The anger left you. Rafe looked toward the television. “Ward already thinks I can’t do anything without someone fixing it.”
“I’m not Ward.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t treat me like him.”
“I’m not.”
“You are if you think helping you means I believe you’re incapable.”
Rafe’s expression shifted. You pulled him closer until he stood between your knees. “I’m helping because I love you.” He stared at you. “I still owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I owe everyone something.”
The words were quieter than the rest. Rafe seemed to measure every relationship by what could be demanded in return. You placed both hands against his waist.
“Not me.” He looked down. “You especially.”
“No.”
“You keyed Bennett’s car because he owed me.”
“He also charged my family’s account.”
“You gave me money last week.”
“Because Barry was threatening you.”
“And now this.”
You glanced at the cash. “That was my choice.” Rafe touched your face with his bandaged hand.
“You’re going to get hurt doing something for me.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know.”
“Then trust me.”
“That’s the problem.”
“What is?”
“I do.”
His thumb moved across your cheek. The admission settled between you. Rafe trusted you enough to know you would go too far for him. He also knew he would let you. You kissed the inside of his injured wrist.
“Keep the money.”
“No.”
“Rafe.”
“I said no.”
He gathered the cash and placed it back into your hands. Then he climbed onto the bed and pulled you against him before you could argue again. Your back settled against his chest. His arm wrapped securely around your waist. “You’re infuriating,” you said.
“I know.”
“You’re going to regret refusing this.”
“Probably.”
“You admit that?”
“I’m growing.”
You laughed despite yourself. Rafe kissed your shoulder. “Put the movie back on.” You pressed play. He kept his arm around you for the rest of the night. The cash remained on the nightstand.
Untouched.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Rafe fell asleep shortly after midnight.
His injured hand rested against your waist while his face pressed into the back of your neck. Even asleep, he held you as though expecting you to disappear.
You waited until his breathing deepened.
Then you carefully lifted his arm and slipped from beneath him. Rafe shifted but did not wake. You crossed the room and opened your purse. The motel key waited inside the hidden pocket.
MARSHVIEW MOTOR LODGE.
Room 23.
You looked back at Rafe.
He had refused the money you stole for him.
He had attacked Pope and hidden it.
You had watched John B steal from the Cameron dock and protected part of what you knew from Ward, Sarah, and Rafe. Everyone around you was keeping secrets. The only difference was that you intended to uncover theirs.
You dressed quietly and returned the cash to its hiding place.
Before leaving, you leaned over the bed and kissed Rafe’s temple.
His hand moved across the empty space beside him.
You hesitated.
Then you took the motel key and walked downstairs. The roads were nearly empty.
As Figure Eight disappeared behind you, the houses became smaller and the hurricane damage more severe. Broken signs leaned across the roadside. Entire stretches remained dark.
You entered the motel’s address into your phone even though you had already memorized it.
The route led toward the Cut.
Toward John B.
Toward whatever had been important enough for him to sneak onto the Cameron property after midnight.
The Marshview Motor Lodge appeared beyond a row of damaged trees.
Half the sign had collapsed.
Only three rooms showed any light.
You slowed the car.
Room 23 sat at the far end of the building.
You parked across the road and wrapped your fingers around the key.
You still did not know who the room belonged to.
You did not know why John B had carried the key.
You did not know what he had stolen from the dock or how any of it connected.
warnings: mdni, smut, mentions of abuse, murder and drinking
word count: 7.8k
previous
The first thing you noticed when you woke was the silence.
Not complete silence. Tannyhill was never completely quiet. Even without electricity, the old house creaked around you, settling after a night of wind and rain. Water tapped steadily against the window. Somewhere outside, a damaged shutter knocked against the side of the house whenever the remaining breeze caught it.
But the hurricane had passed. The second thing you noticed was Rafe’s arm locked around your waist. You opened your eyes slowly.
Gray morning light filtered through the curtains, illuminating the mess Hurricane Agatha had left behind inside his bedroom. One of the windows had leaked overnight, leaving a dark stain across the rug. Clothes had been thrown across the floor when the power went out. A flashlight rested sideways on his nightstand beside two empty glasses.
You were lying on your side with your back pressed against Rafe’s chest, one of his legs tangled between yours. You were supposed to be sleeping down the hallway. Sarah had insisted you stay at Tannyhill after your parents left the island for the weekend, refusing to let you spend the hurricane alone in your family’s house. She had set up blankets across her bedroom floor, gathered enough snacks to last several weeks, and promised that the two of you would stay awake until the storm passed.
You had lasted until Sarah fell asleep.
Then you slipped into Rafe’s room.
At twenty, you had been sneaking into his bed for long enough to know exactly which doors squeaked and which floorboards complained beneath your weight. You knew how to unlock his bedroom door without making the handle click. You knew to leave your shoes beneath Sarah’s bed so she would assume you were still there if she woke.
You also knew that Rafe Cameron had never once made leaving easy. Carefully, you lifted his arm from your waist. His grip tightened immediately.
“No.”
His voice was rough with sleep.
You glanced back at him. “You’re awake?”
“No.”
“Then let go.”
Rafe buried his face against the back of your neck. His lips brushed your skin before his arm pulled you closer.
“Go back to sleep.”
“I need to get back to Sarah’s room.”
“She’s sleeping.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know Sarah.”
“She’s your sister and you barely know what she does half the time.”
“Exactly. She’s probably asleep.”
You reached for the edge of the blanket, but Rafe’s hand slid beneath the oversized shirt you had stolen from him the night before. His palm settled against your bare stomach, warm and heavy.
“Rafe.”
“What?”
“You’re not helping.” His mouth pressed against the curve where your neck met your shoulder. “I’m not trying to.”
You attempted to sound irritated, but his lips moved slowly upward, leaving warm kisses along your throat. His thumb traced an absent circle against your stomach.
The hurricane had kept everyone awake for most of the night. Wind had shaken the windows while tree branches scraped across the roof, and every few minutes Sarah had shouted from her bedroom that the house was going to collapse.
Rafe had been waiting for you when you eventually slipped through his door.
You had spent more time kissing him than sleeping.
“We already did this,” you whispered. Rafe’s mouth curved against your skin. “Did what?”
“You know what.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re irritating.”
“And you’re still in my bed.” He rolled you onto your back before you could stop him. The blanket slipped to his waist as he moved above you. His hair was disheveled from sleep, falling across his forehead. There was a faint scratch near his shoulder that you were fairly certain had come from you sometime after midnight. You placed one hand against his chest. “I’m serious.” “So am I.” His mouth covered yours.
The kiss began lazily, his lips warm and soft against yours. It lasted only long enough for you to start relaxing before his hand slid from your waist to your thigh, pulling your leg around his hip.
You felt his smile when your fingers moved into his hair. “You’re impossible,” you murmured.
“You say that a lot.” “Because it’s true.”
Rafe kissed you again, deeper this time. His hand traveled slowly along your thigh beneath the shirt, fingertips tracing the edge of your underwear without moving farther. Your body instinctively pressed closer to his.
He broke the kiss only to drag his mouth along your jaw. You turned your head, giving him more access before remembering that you were supposed to be leaving.
“Rafe.” His lips moved beneath your ear. “What?” “We can’t.”
“We’re not doing anything.”
“You have your hand under my shirt.”
“You wore my shirt.”
“Because you threw my clothes somewhere.”
“They’re on the floor.”
“Very helpful.” His teeth grazed your neck. You inhaled sharply. Rafe lifted his head just enough to look at you. “Quiet.” “You’re the one-” He kissed you again, swallowing the rest of your sentence.You tightened your hand in his hair and pulled him closer, abandoning the idea of leaving for several dangerous seconds. His body pressed yours deeper into the mattress as he kissed you with the same slow confidence that always made you forget why resisting him had seemed important.
His thumb swept over the inside of your thigh. You shifted beneath him. Rafe made a low sound against your lips.
Then a floorboard creaked in the hallway. You both froze. Another creak followed. You pushed him away. “Sarah." Rafe dropped his head onto your shoulder with a frustrated groan. “I hate this house.” “It’s your house.” “Exactly.” You scrambled out from beneath him and landed beside the bed. Your shorts were near the window. One sock had somehow ended up beneath his desk. Rafe remained sprawled across the mattress, watching you search. “You know,” he said, “this would be easier if we told her.” You straightened and stared at him. “That is literally what I have been saying.” “No. You’ve been saying we need to tell her.”
“Those are the same words.” “They sound different when you say them.” You pulled on your shorts. “We do need to tell her.” Rafe’s expression changed slightly. He sat up, resting his back against the headboard. “Not this again.”
“Yes, this again.”
“Why?”
“Because it has been two years.”
“And?”
“And she’s my best friend.”
“She’s also my sister. I think I know how she’ll react.”
“You don’t know.”
“She’ll freak out.”
“She’ll be mad that we lied.”
“She’ll blame me.” You paused while searching for your other sock.
Rafe looked away. There it was. The real reason beneath every excuse. Sarah would believe he had corrupted you. Manipulated you. Dragged her sweet, seemingly harmless best friend into whatever darkness everyone on Figure Eight already associated with him. She would never imagine that you had walked willingly into it. “She knows me,” you said more gently.
“She thinks she does.”
“So does everyone.”
“That doesn’t bother you?” “Sometimes.” Rafe’s gaze returned to you. You found your sock beside his dresser and pulled it on. “She deserves to hear it from us,” you continued. “Not from Topper. Not from Wheezie. Not because she walks into a room and catches you with your hand under my shirt.”
“She would’ve caught you with your hand in my hair.”
“Not the point.”
“Feels relevant.”
“Rafe.” He sighed and rubbed one hand across his face. “We’ll tell her later.”
“You always say later.”
“And you always accept it.” That irritated you because it was true. You crossed the room and stopped in front of him. “Eventually, later becomes too late.” Rafe caught the back of your thigh and pulled you between his knees. His expression had softened, but not enough to make you believe the conversation was over. “You really think she won’t try to talk you out of it?” “She can try.”
“And if she makes you choose?” You looked down at him. He attempted to appear indifferent, but his fingers tightened slightly against your leg. “She won’t.”
“That wasn’t the question.” Before you could answer, Sarah’s voice sounded faintly from the hallway. “Are you awake?” You and Rafe stared at one another. Her footsteps moved closer. You grabbed your sweatshirt from the floor. Rafe stood and opened the bathroom door connecting his room to the hallway. “Go.”
“You’re the one who wouldn’t let me leave.”
“Do you want to get caught?”
“Maybe it would solve the problem.” He gave you a warning look.
You smiled sweetly and slipped through the doorway. The hallway was empty, but Sarah’s bedroom door stood open at the opposite end. You moved quickly, closing Rafe’s bathroom door behind you before hurrying toward Sarah’s room. You nearly collided with Wheezie.
She stood outside her bedroom wearing plaid pajama pants and holding a flashlight beneath her chin. Her eyes moved over your clothes. Then toward Rafe’s bathroom. Then back to you. “Morning,” you said. Wheezie slowly lowered the flashlight. “Why were you in Rafe’s bathroom?”
“I wasn’t.”
“I watched you come out.”
“I was checking whether the water worked.”
“In his bathroom?”
“It was the closest one.”
“To Sarah’s room?” You smiled. Wheezie stared at you for another long second. Then her gaze dropped to the dark mark near your collarbone.
Your hand immediately covered it.
“Don’t you have something else to do?” She smiled in a way that made her look dangerously Cameron. “Probably.” Wheezie walked away without saying anything else. You watched her disappear down the stairs. Behind you, Rafe’s bathroom door opened slightly.
“You think she knows?” he whispered. You turned. Only half his face was visible through the gap. “Yes.” “She’s fourteen. She doesn’t know anything.” “She knows enough to blackmail both of us.” Rafe considered that. “Give her twenty dollars.” You stared at him. “That is your solution?” “It usually works.” You pulled the sweatshirt over your head and walked into Sarah’s room before he could say anything worse.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
By eleven that morning, Tannyhill’s lawn looked like the aftermath of a war.
Agatha had torn branches from trees, overturned patio furniture, and scattered pieces of neighboring docks across the shoreline. Part of the Cameron dock had collapsed into the water. The boathouse had flooded, and one of Ward’s smaller boats had broken loose during the night before becoming trapped against the marsh.
The power was still out across most of the island. Ward responded by giving everyone orders.
“Topper, grab the larger branches near the drive. Kelce, help him.” Kelce looked toward Rafe. “Why do I have to-” “Because you’re here,” Ward answered. Topper laughed beneath his breath.
Sarah stood barefoot in the grass, examining a broken piece of fencing as though it had personally offended her. Wheezie sat on the front steps drinking juice from the carton. You followed Rafe toward the damaged dock.
Ward stepped in front of him.
“Where are you going?”
“To check the boathouse.”
“I told you to start with the generator.”
“I already checked it.”
“And?”
“And it’s flooded.” Ward stared at him. “Did you fix it?” Rafe’s jaw tightened. “It’s flooded.” “That doesn’t answer my question.” “It needs to dry out.” Ward exhaled sharply, as though Rafe had deliberately caused the hurricane. “For once in your life, make yourself useful instead of standing around explaining why you can’t do something.”
Rafe’s shoulders went rigid. You stopped several feet away. Sarah glanced over but quickly looked back toward Topper. Ward continued. “I need you to take responsibility without turning every simple task into another problem for me.” “I didn’t flood the generator.” “No, but somehow you’re still incapable of helping.” Rafe stepped closer.
“You asked me to check it. I checked it.”
“And now I’m asking you to fix it.”
“I can’t magically dry out a fucking generator.”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Or what?” Ward’s expression hardened. You moved between them before Rafe could do something that would ruin the rest of the morning.
“Rafe,” you said, touching his arm. “I need help by the boathouse.”
“I’m talking to my father.”
“I know.”
“Then wait.” You tightened your fingers against his arm. “Now.” Rafe looked at you. Ward’s attention moved between the two of you, but he seemed too irritated to notice anything strange about the way Rafe responded to your touch. After several seconds, Rafe stepped back. “Fine.” He followed you toward the water.
You did not release his arm until the house was partially hidden behind the trees. Rafe pulled away. “I didn’t need you saving me.”
“Good, because I was saving everyone else from listening to you scream.”
“I wasn’t screaming.”
“You were three seconds from punching him.”
“Maybe he deserved it.”
“Probably. Still a bad idea.” Rafe kicked a broken piece of wood from the path. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand that he deliberately pushes you until you react, and then he gets to act like your reaction proves everything he already thinks about you.” Rafe looked at you. You continued walking toward the boathouse. “I also understand that punching Ward before breakfast would’ve made the rest of the day unbearable.”
“He talks to me like I’m twelve.”
“I know.”
“He doesn’t talk to Sarah like that.”
“I know.”
“He thinks I ruin everything.” You stopped.
Rafe stood with his hands on his hips, staring toward the water. His anger had not disappeared, but something wounded sat beneath it. This was the part no one else saw. Sarah saw her older brother throwing another fit. Ward saw the disappointing son he had already decided Rafe would become. You saw how quickly anger became the only emotion Rafe allowed himself to show. You stepped closer. “This is exactly why we should tell Sarah.” Rafe’s head snapped toward you. “What does Sarah have to do with my dad?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you bringing her up?”
“Because I’m tired of standing ten feet away and pretending I don’t care when something happens to you.”
“You can care without telling her.”
“Not openly.”
“So?”
“So I hate it.” Rafe stared at you. You lowered your voice. “I hate pretending it doesn’t bother me when Ward treats you like that. I hate acting like I don’t know why you’re angry. I hate watching Sarah roll her eyes at you when I know what actually happened.” “She’s not going to understand.”
“Maybe she would if we gave her the chance.” Rafe stepped forward and cupped the side of your face. You knew what he was doing before he kissed you. For half a second, you allowed it.
Then you placed both hands against his chest and pushed him back.
“No.” His eyebrows rose. “No?”
“You don’t get to kiss me every time you don’t want to answer.”
“It usually works.”
“That’s the problem.” Rafe’s mouth curved. You pointed at him. “Stop smiling.” “I’m not.” “You are.” “A little.”
Before you could continue, Sarah shouted from somewhere behind the trees. “Oh my God!” You and Rafe immediately separated.
Sarah ran across the lawn with both hands cupped carefully in front of her. Topper followed, laughing. Kelce trailed behind them with a branch over one shoulder. Ward stood near the driveway, speaking into a phone that had no signal. “Look!” Sarah called.
She reached you and slowly opened her hands. A butterfly rested against her palm, its orange wings opening and closing. You smiled despite yourself. “You caught it?”
“It landed on me.” Topper leaned over her shoulder. “It likes you.” “Obviously.” Rafe glanced toward you. “It’s a butterfly.” Sarah ignored him. Several more fluttered above the damaged flowerbeds, disturbed by the storm and the sudden return of sunlight.
For the next several minutes, Sarah forgot about the destroyed dock, the missing power, and the branches scattered across the property. She chased butterflies through the grass while Topper encouraged her and Kelce offered increasingly terrible advice.
Wheezie came down from the porch to watch. Sarah caught another butterfly and turned toward Ward.
“Dad!” Ward lowered his phone. “What?”
“Hold still.”
“Why?”
“Just hold still.” She approached him with both hands closed. Ward narrowed his eyes. “Sarah.” “Trust me.” “That sentence has never ended well.” Topper covered his mouth to hide his laughter. Sarah pretended to brush something from Ward’s shoulder, then released the butterfly directly beside his face. Ward jerked backward. Sarah burst out laughing.
Topper doubled over. Kelce nearly dropped the branch. Even Wheezie smiled from the steps. Ward stared at Sarah in disbelief. “You think that’s funny?” “Yes.” She ran toward Topper before Ward could catch her.
For one brief moment, everything felt normal. Sarah laughing in the yard. Topper chasing after her. Kelce making fun of Ward from a safe distance. Rafe standing beside you with his shoulder brushing yours.
Everyone was looking toward Sarah when Rafe’s fingers found your hand. He didn't hold it. He simply brushed his knuckles across yours once. A silent touch. Small enough to miss. Familiar enough to make your chest tighten. You glanced at him. Rafe was already looking at you.
Then Ward turned around, and both of you stepped apart.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
The missing coke was discovered less than twenty minutes later.
Rafe had hidden it inside a waterproof compartment beneath a loose panel near the back of the boathouse. The storm had forced water through the walls, ripped part of the panel free, and filled the compartment with mud and debris. You watched him pull out two soaked plastic packages. He placed them on an overturned crate. Then he reached back into the compartment. His movements became faster. “Where’s the other one?” You stood near the doorway. “What?" Rafe shoved his arm farther beneath the damaged panel.
“Fuck.”
“What’s missing?”
“Nothing.”
“You just asked where something was.”
He ignored you and began tearing through the debris piled beside the compartment. You moved closer. “Rafe.”
“Go help Sarah.”
“No.”
“Go.”
“You’ve searched that same spot four times.” He threw a broken piece of wood aside. “Tell me what’s missing.” Rafe stopped. Water dripped steadily from a hole in the roof. He looked toward the open doorway, making sure no one else was nearby. “Coke.” You lowered your voice. “How much?”
“Enough.”
“That isn’t a number.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters if you’re acting like this.” Rafe shoved both hands through his wet hair. “One package.”
“Could it have washed out?”
“Maybe.”
“Then we search the shoreline.”
“It could be anywhere.”
“Okay.”
“No, not okay.”
Barry’s name illuminated the screen of Rafe’s phone where it rested on the crate. The call ended. Another message appeared immediately.You could not read the entire thing, but the preview contained enough.
Need my money, country club. Today.
You looked at Rafe. “This isn’t only about the missing coke.” He grabbed the phone and turned it facedown. “You owe Barry.” Rafe said nothing.
“How much?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“How much?”
“I said don’t worry about it.”
“And I said tell me.” His jaw flexed. “I was already short.”
“How short?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Stop saying that.” Rafe moved past you toward the doorway. You caught his wrist. “Let me help.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Barry isn’t some idiot from the club whose car you can scratch.”
“I know who Barry is.”
“No, you know what people say about him.”
“I know enough.”
“You don’t.”
“Then tell me.” Rafe stared at your hand around his wrist. “You need to stay out of this.” You released him. “You stopped being able to tell me that two years ago.” “This is different.”
“How?”
“Because I said it is.” You laughed without humor. “Great explanation.” Rafe lowered his voice. “He doesn’t care who your family is. He doesn’t care that you live on Figure Eight. If he thinks he can use you to get to me, he will.”
“So let’s make sure he can’t.”
“You’re not listening.”
“No, you’re not listening. I’m offering to help you pay him back.”
“With what?” You hesitated. Rafe noticed. “With what?” he repeated. “I’ll figure it out.”
“No.”
“You don’t get to decide.”
“Actually, I do. Because this is my problem.”
“You make everything your problem until it gets bad enough. Then suddenly no one else is allowed near it.” Rafe picked up the two remaining packages. “Go get ready for the Boneyard.”
“Rafe.”
“We’re done talking about it.” He walked out of the boathouse. You stared after him. You had known better than to believe it was over.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
That evening, you and Sarah got ready in her bedroom by candlelight while most of Tannyhill remained without power. “Black or blue?” she asked.
“Blue.”
“You didn’t even look.”
“I’ve seen both.” Sarah tossed the black shirt at you before noticing your attention on your phone. Rafe had ignored your last two messages since the argument at the boathouse.
“You’re being secret weird,” she said. “are you seeing someone?”
“No, I’m not.”
“You disappear, smile at your phone, and have a mark on your shoulder.”
Your hand rose instinctively.
Sarah gasped. “I knew it. Who is it? Kelce?”
“Why would it be Kelce?”
“You’re always around him.”
She laughed. “Even if it’s Rafe, just tell me. I won’t be mad.”
The idea was so impossible to her that she could joke about it. “It isn’t Rafe.”
“Is it a Pogue?”
“No.” Sarah studied you before turning back to the mirror.
She laughed, but her expression quickly softened.
“Do you think we’re drifting?”
“No.”
“You disappear all the time, and you never tell me where you go.” She looked at you. “You used to tell me everything.”
Two years of lies sat between you.
“Sarah, there actually is something—”
Her phone vibrated.
Topper: We’re leaving now.
Sarah grabbed the blue shirt. “We should go. I’ll meet you there?”
You nodded. Your phone lit up beside you.
Rafe: Don’t say anything.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
The Boneyard looked untouched by the hurricane.
Driftwood had washed farther up the sand, and the marsh still carried pieces of broken docks, but the party continued as though the island had not spent the previous night beneath violent wind and rain. Bonfires burned along the beach. Music echoed from portable speakers. Kooks and Pogues drank from the same coolers while pretending the island’s dividing lines disappeared after dark.
Rafe had finally changed out of the clothes he wore while searching the boathouse. A dark shirt stretched across his shoulders, and his chain caught the light from the nearest fire.
You tried not to stare.
He caught you anyway. “What?” you asked. Rafe’s mouth tilted. “Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“So were you.”
“I was looking behind you.”
“At what?”
“The ocean.”
“You’re facing the dunes.” You rolled your eyes and walked ahead. A large piece of driftwood blocked the path. Rafe caught your waist as you stepped over it, steadying you before your foot reached the sand.
His hand remained in place one second too long. Sarah was several feet ahead, clinging to Topper’s arm. Kelce was opening a beer. No one noticed. You looked up at Rafe. “You can let go.”
“Can I?”
“You should.”
He released you slowly.
Later, he took your drink without asking, tasted it, and handed it back. When you complained, he said he was checking whether it was good. When you fixed the chain twisted beneath his collar, he leaned closer and asked whether you needed an excuse to touch him. When he passed behind you near the fire, his fingers brushed the back of your neck. Each touch disappeared before anyone could see it. It was how the two of you spoke when words were too dangerous.
Sarah unknowingly encouraged it.
“I left my jacket in the car,” you said after the sun disappeared.
Sarah was seated beside Topper near one of the fires.
“Rafe can help you find it.”
You looked at her. “I can find my own jacket.”
“It’s dark.”
“I have a phone.” Sarah waved dismissively. “Rafe, go with her.” Rafe took a slow drink. “Why?”
“Because I asked.”
“That’s not a reason.” Topper laughed. “Just go.”
Rafe looked at you. You stood. “Come on, Cameron.” He followed with an exaggerated sigh. You argued loudly enough for everyone to hear as you walked away from the fire.
“You’re walking too slowly.”
“You’re the one who lost something.”
“I didn’t lose it. I left it.”
“Same thing.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Once the bonfires were hidden behind the dunes, Rafe caught your hand. You allowed him to pull you toward your car. “Where’s the jacket?” he asked. “There isn’t one.”
“I know.” He pressed you against the passenger-side door.
“You ignored me all afternoon.”
“You told me to stay out of your problem.”
“So you’re punishing me?”
“I’m respecting your wishes.”
“Bullshit.” You smiled faintly. “Maybe.” Rafe placed one hand beside your head. “You were going to tell her.”
“Maybe.”
“Don’t.”
“You don’t get to control what I tell Sarah.”
“If you tell her while we’re fighting, she’ll think I forced you to hide it.”
“You did force me to hide it.”
“No, I asked.”
“And you agreed.” You hated that he was right. Rafe’s gaze dropped to your mouth. “You’re still mad.”
“Yes.”
“Want me to fix it?”
“No.” He kissed you anyway. You lasted less than two seconds before grabbing his chain and pulling him closer. Rafe’s hand slid around your waist, pressing your body against his. The metal of the car was cool behind you, but his mouth was warm and demanding. The kiss deepened quickly. He tilted your head, his thumb resting beneath your jaw while his tongue swept against yours. You tightened your fingers around his chain. Rafe made a low sound against your mouth. “You’re going to break that,” he murmured.
“Buy another one.”
“Or you could stop pulling it.”
“You could stop kissing me.”
“That isn’t happening.” His mouth moved along your jaw. You tried to remember that Sarah and Topper were waiting beyond the dunes. Then Rafe kissed the side of your neck. Your fingers slid into his hair.
“Not there.”
“Why?”
“Sarah will see.”
“She didn’t see the last one.”
“She literally asked me about it.”
Rafe smiled against your skin. “What did you say?”
“That it wasn’t you.”
“Liar.”
“You told me not to say anything.” His hands moved beneath the hem of your shirt, palms warm against your waist. You pulled his mouth back to yours. The makeout became messier, less controlled. His body pushed yours against the car while your knee slid between his legs. He gripped your hips and kissed you hard enough to make your lips sting. You could feel the frustration from the boathouse in every movement. The argument had not disappeared. It had simply changed shape. A branch snapped somewhere nearby. You broke apart. Rafe turned toward the sound. Two figures passed several cars away, laughing too loudly to notice you. You fixed your shirt. “We need to go back.” Rafe leaned against the car. “You never had a jacket.”
“I know.”
“What are you going to tell them?”
“That you’re useless.” He caught your wrist and pulled you back for one final kiss. This one was slower. Almost affectionate. That made leaving harder. When you returned to the fire, Topper looked between you and Rafe. “What took so long?” “She couldn’t find it,” Rafe said. Topper grinned. “Sure.” Sarah glanced at him. “What?” “They totally hooked up.” You nearly inhaled your drink. Sarah slapped Topper’s chest. “Stop.” “I’m joking.” She looked at you and Rafe, then started laughing too. “Can you imagine?” Rafe sat beside you. “Yeah,” he said calmly. “Disgusting.” You kicked his ankle. Topper laughed harder. Sarah shifted closer to him, unknowingly leaving you beside Rafe. His knee pressed against yours beneath the edge of the blanket.
Sarah did not look twice. She never considered the possibility.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
The Pogue’s name was Ethan. He had worked at the Island Club for nearly a year, mostly serving drinks on the golf course and collecting empty glasses after private events. You had always been friendly with him, partly because he was amusing and partly because he heard everything wealthy Kooks said when they believed staff members were invisible. You found him near a smaller fire with two coworkers.
He smiled when he saw you. “Didn’t expect to see you over here.”
“You say that every time.”
“Because every time, you’re surrounded by people who hate us.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Your friends do.” You glanced toward the main fire. Rafe was talking to Kelce, but his attention shifted toward you immediately. You turned back to Ethan. “You know Barry, right?” His smile weakened. “Why?”
“Curious.”
“About Barry?”
“Everyone needs a hobby.” Ethan studied you. “Yeah. I know him.”
“Where does he live?”
“That’s a weird question.”
“Near the Cut?”
“Why do you want his address?”
“I didn’t ask for an address.”
“You asked where he lives.”
“General area.” Ethan took a drink.
“What did he sell you?”
“Nothing.”
“Then what did he sell one of your friends?” You smiled.
“You ask too many questions.”
“And you’re asking about a dealer who doesn’t like people asking questions.” You leaned closer. “Does he work alone?” Ethan looked toward the others around the fire before lowering his voice. “Mostly.”
“Mostly isn’t alone.”
“He gets his supply from someone farther inland. At least that’s what people say.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know something.”
“I know Barry stores shit in a trailer off the old service road. Sometimes people come through at night. Different cars. Same two or three guys.”
“Does he owe any of them?” Ethan laughed quietly. “Barry owes everyone.” That interested you. “Everyone?”
“He gambles. Borrows money. Buys things he can’t move fast enough.”
“So he has debts.”
“Probably.” Ethan shifted closer. “What’s this actually about?”
“Nothing.”
“That answer works better when you don’t ask where a drug dealer lives.” You smiled at him. “I like knowing things.”
“I’ve noticed.” His hand settled lightly against your hip. You did not move immediately. You were watching his face, waiting to see whether he would reveal anything else. “What do I get if I tell you more?” he asked. “Depends what you know.” “I know Barry has a cousin who runs deliveries for him.” “Name?” Ethan leaned closer to your ear. Across the beach, Rafe watched. You could feel it without looking. “Don’t know his real name,” Ethan said. “People call him Cricket.”
“Cricket?”
“Yeah.”
“Where does he stay?”
“Near the old fish plant.” His thumb moved once against your hip. You stepped back before it could become more. “Thanks.”
“That’s it?”
“What were you expecting?”
“A drink.”
“You know how to get one.”
Ethan laughed as you walked away. When you looked toward the main fire, Rafe was gone.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
You found him near the edge of the water. You stopped beside him. “Can we talk?”
“We’re talking.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Do I?” You crossed your arms. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re being bratty.” He laughed once without humor.
“Bratty?” “And short.”
“Maybe I don’t feel like talking.”
“You always feel like talking when no one asks.” Rafe turned toward you.
“Go back to your new friend.”
You stared at him. “Ethan?” “So you know his name.”
“He works at the club.”
“I know where he works.”
“Then why did you say it like that?” Rafe looked over your shoulder toward the fire. “He seemed comfortable.”
“You’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“He touched me for three seconds and you disappeared.”
“You let him.”
“I was talking to him.”
“With his hand on your ass?”
“It was on my hip.”
“Oh, sorry. Completely different.” You lowered your voice. “Can you not do this here?”
“Do what?”
“Act like an asshole because you can’t ask a normal question.”
“I don’t care what you were doing.”
“Clearly.” Rafe stepped closer. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself.” “You’re being ridiculous.”
“And you’re avoiding the question.”
“What question?”
“Why were you talking to him?” Before you could answer, shouting erupted near the water.
Both of you turned. A crowd had gathered where Topper and John B stood chest-to-chest in the shallows. Sarah was shouting at Topper. John B shoved him. Topper shoved back.
Then both of them fell into the water.
“Oh my God,” you muttered. Sarah ran forward.
“Topper!” You and Rafe followed. By the time you reached the crowd, Topper had John B pinned beneath him. Water splashed around them as John B struggled. “Stop!” Sarah screamed.
Topper ignored her. “Topper, let him go!” JJ pushed through the crowd.
The gun appeared in his hand so quickly that several people did not react until he raised it.
The shot cracked through the air.
Everyone screamed.
Your body jolted. Rafe’s arm moved automatically across your front, pushing you behind him. Smoke curled from the barrel. JJ held the gun with a familiarity that unsettled you. He did not look like someone who had found it for the first time that afternoon.
He looked practiced. Comfortable. The crowd scattered. Topper released John B.
John B stumbled upright, coughing and dragging air into his lungs. Sarah stood frozen near the water, staring at the gun. “Get off our side of the island!” JJ shouted before firing another warning into the sky.
People ran farther up the beach. You watched the four boys exchange a quick look. John B checked something beneath his shirt or inside his pocket before Kiara grabbed his arm. Whatever he was carrying mattered enough for him to make sure it remained there even while struggling to breathe.
The Pogues moved away quickly, disappearing toward the dunes instead of remaining to argue. Rafe started after them. You caught his arm. “Let it go.” He pulled free. “He pulled a gun on us.”
“And chasing him through the dark is going to improve that?”
“He pointed it at Sarah.”
“He fired into the air.”
“That makes it fine?”
“No. It makes running after an armed Pogue incredibly stupid.”
“Move.”
“Rafe.” His expression was wild with anger.
Topper stood several feet away, coughing and shouting that he was going to kill John B. Sarah tried calming him. Rafe looked toward the dunes where the Pogues had disappeared. Then at you.
His gaze was still hard from the earlier argument.
“Go find Ethan,” he said.
He walked away before you could respond.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
You waited near your car for twenty minutes. Sarah had left with Topper, who was still furious and soaking wet. Kelce disappeared with another group. Rafe had vanished somewhere along the beach. You considered leaving without him.
Then he emerged from the darkness. His shirt was partially untucked. Sand covered his shoes. You folded your arms. “Where were you?” “Doesn’t matter.”
“Did you follow them?”
“No.”
“You’re lying.” Rafe stopped several feet from you. “Why were you talking to him?” You stared at him. “Are you serious?”
“Answer me.”
“You disappeared after someone fired a gun, and this is what you care about?”
“I said answer me.” Your anger flared. “I was asking about Barry.” Rafe became completely still.
“What?”
“I was asking Ethan where Barry lives, who supplies him, whether he owes anyone money, and who works for him.” Rafe stared at you. For once, he had nothing to say. You stepped closer. “You told me not to help, so I found another way.”
“You asked a Pogue about Barry?”
“Yes.”
“At a party?”
“Yes.”
“And you let him touch you for information?” The disbelief in his voice made your temper snap.
“I let him think I liked him for thirty seconds.”
“Don’t do it again.” You laughed sharply. “You do not get to give me orders after nearly exposing us and your entire operation.”
“I didn’t expose anything.”
“You started acting like a jealous psycho in front of everyone.”
“No one noticed.”
“I noticed.”
“That’s different.”
“No, it isn’t.” Rafe moved closer. “You don’t know anything about Ethan.”
“I know enough.”
“He could’ve told Barry you were asking.”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because unlike you, I can speak to someone without threatening to break his face.” Rafe’s jaw tightened. “If we are going to handle your problems together, you need to stop acting before you think.”
“I didn’t ask you to handle anything.”
“You never ask. You just expect me to sit around while you destroy your own life.” His expression changed.
“You sound like Ward.” The words landed harder than either of you expected. You became quiet. Rafe looked away first. The wind carried music faintly across the dunes. When you spoke again, your voice was lower. “I am not your father.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You said I sound like him.”
“Because you’re standing there telling me everything I do is wrong.”
“I’m trying to stop you from ruining your life.”
“I can handle my own life.”
“Clearly.” Rafe flinched almost imperceptibly. You immediately regretted saying it, but anger kept you from taking it back. He stepped away from the car.
“Fine.”
“Fine what?”
“Stay out of it.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re not my fucking babysitter.”
“No. I’m the person who keeps cleaning up after you because I love you.” Rafe stared at you. The words hung between you. You had said them before. Just never like an accusation.
You opened the driver’s-side door. “Go home, Rafe.” He did not move. You climbed inside and shut the door. For a moment, you thought he might stop you. He stepped back instead. You drove away without looking in the mirror.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Rafe texted you shortly after midnight. You were sitting in bed wearing an old sweatshirt, scrolling through messages you had no interest in reading. His name appeared across your screen.
Rafe: Can I come over?
You waited twenty minutes before answering.
You: if you want.
He arrived five minutes later.
You heard gravel shift beneath his truck outside before the quiet knock sounded against your window. You unlocked it and stepped back. Rafe climbed inside. “You could use the front door,” you said. “Your parents are home.”
“They’re asleep.”
“Exactly.” You sat on the edge of the bed.
Rafe remained standing. Neither of you spoke for several seconds. He looked calmer than he had at the Boneyard, but not apologetic enough to satisfy you. “I shouldn’t have said you sounded like him,” he said. You looked at him. “That’s your apology?”
“I’m getting there.”
“You should’ve prepared before coming.” Rafe exhaled.
“I’m sorry.”
“For?”
“Jesus Christ.”
“For?”
“For saying you sound like Ward.”
“And?”
“And telling you to stay out of it.”
“And?” His eyes narrowed.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.” Rafe sat beside you.
“I shouldn’t have acted like that about that pouge.”
“You acted insane.”
“I didn’t like him touching you.”
“That doesn’t make it my fault.”
“I know.”
“You can’t punish me every time someone flirts with me while we’re pretending I’m single.”
“I know.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I’m trying.” You looked down at your hands. Rafe’s fingers brushed yours. “Barry called again,” he said. You glanced at him. “He won’t accept that you’re short on money.”
“No.”
“How long do you have?”
“Not long.”
“How much?” Rafe told you. The number was worse than you expected. You stood without responding and crossed the room. “What are you doing?” You knelt beside your dresser and pulled open the bottom drawer. Beneath a stack of folded shirts sat a small lockbox. You removed it and entered the code. Rafe watched as you pulled out a thick stack of cash. You returned to the bed and placed it in his hand. He stared down at it.
“Where did you get this?”
“Saved it.”
“For what?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Rafe counted quickly. “This isn’t enough.”
“I know.”
“It’s still a lot.”
“I know.”
“You’re giving me all of it?”
“I’m lending it to you.” He looked up.
“You expect me to pay you back?”
“With interest.” Rafe smiled slowly.
“What?”
“This is why I’m in love with you.” You rolled your eyes.
“Because I give you money?”
“Because you always have a plan.”
“This is not a plan. This is a temporary solution.” He placed the cash on your nightstand. Then his hand closed around the back of your neck. You attempted to maintain your irritation. “You’re not getting out of the conversation.” “I know.”
Rafe kissed you. The kiss was softer than the one beside your car, lacking the jealousy and anger from earlier. You rested your hand against his chest but did not push him away. His thumb traced your jaw. “I’m sorry,” he murmured against your lips. “You already said that.”
“I mean it now.”
“That’s reassuring.” He kissed you again. You slid closer. Rafe’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Your knees settled on either side of him as his mouth moved slowly over yours. The tension from the argument dissolved beneath familiar touches. Your fingers moved into his hair. His hands traveled along your back beneath the sweatshirt, palms warm against your skin. He kissed your jaw, then your neck, careful to avoid leaving another mark where Sarah could see. You tilted your head. “I’m still mad.” “I know.” His mouth brushed beneath your ear.
“You don’t seem mad.”
“I can multitask.” Rafe laughed softly. You kissed him again, pushing him backward against the pillows. The cash remained forgotten on the nightstand. The room grew quieter around you as his hands moved over your waist and thighs, the makeout becoming slower, heavier, and increasingly difficult to interrupt. Eventually, the conversation disappeared. So did several pieces of clothing.
The rest belonged only to the dark.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Sarah asked you to come to Tannyhill for two reasons. The first was that she wanted to see you. The second was that she needed you to lie for her.
“Just tell my dad I’m upstairs,” she whispered while pulling on a jacket. You stood in the middle of her bedroom with your arms crossed. “You invited me here to cover for you?”
“I invited you because I missed you.”
“And the lying?”
“A bonus.”
“Where are you going?”
“To see Topper.”
“You saw him yesterday.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“We were with people.”
“You’re always with people.” Sarah ignored you and climbed halfway through her bedroom window. “Two hours.”
“Sarah.”
“Three maximum.”
“What am I supposed to do here?”
“Hang out.”
“With who?”
She smiled.
“My family loves you.”
You stared at her.
“Your father tolerates me.”
“Same thing.”
Sarah slipped onto the roof. You caught her wrist before she could disappear. “If Ward asks, you’re showering.”
“For three hours?”
“You take long showers.”
“Good point.” She kissed your cheek.
“I love you.”
“You owe me.”
“I always do.” Sarah disappeared into the darkness. You closed the window behind her.
Rafe wasn't home. He had left earlier to meet Barry. He had refused to tell you exactly where he was going, which had resulted in another argument conducted entirely through increasingly short text messages.
You spent nearly two hours inside Tannyhill. Wheezie watched television on her phone because the cable still had not been restored. Rose drank wine in the sitting room. Ward disappeared into his office and made several angry calls about property damage.
You stayed upstairs until Sarah texted that she was on her way back.
Once she climbed through the window, flushed and smiling, you grabbed your tote. “How was Topper?”
“Perfect.”
“You say that until tomorrow.”
Sarah threw a pillow at you. You left before Ward could ask why Sarah’s hair looked different from when you arrived. Outside, the night was warm and still.
The damaged property had mostly been cleared, but part of the dock remained broken. Sections of the boathouse were boarded over, and storm debris still floated near the shoreline. You reached your car and opened the driver’s-side door. A light moved near the water.
You stopped.
At first, you assumed it was Rafe. Maybe he had returned without telling you. Then the light disappeared behind the ruined boathouse.
You closed the car door quietly. Someone was moving along the damaged dock. Your first thought was Barry. Your second was that Ward Cameron had finally accumulated enough enemies for one of them to sneak onto his property at night. The idea amused you more than it should have.
You hated Ward. Not dramatically. Not in the loud, obvious way Rafe sometimes did. Your hatred was quieter.
You hated the way Ward spoke to his son. The way he dismissed every effort Rafe made and then blamed him for giving up. The way he presented himself as the island’s perfect father while making his children compete for scraps of approval.
If someone had come to steal from him, you were not sure you would stop them. Still, you wanted to know who it was. You slipped off your shoes and moved silently across the grass. The flashlight beam appeared again, sweeping beneath the damaged boards. You followed at a distance.
Someone crouched near the edge of the dock, searching through mud and wreckage left behind by the hurricane. You hid behind a fallen section of fencing. The figure moved closer to the boathouse. Moonlight caught the side of his face.
John B Routledge.
You frowned. Of all the people you expected to find trespassing at Tannyhill in the middle of the night, John B had not been high on the list. He carried a flashlight in one hand and searched urgently with the other, moving broken boards and checking beneath pieces of debris as though he knew exactly where to look.
You remained hidden. John B found something wedged beneath part of the damaged dock. He pulled it free and held it beneath the flashlight.
From your position, you could only see a flash of metal and the corner of something water-damaged. A number was printed across one edge. Perhaps a registration. Perhaps a name.
John B stared at it.
A branch cracked somewhere near the house. He spun around. The flashlight beam swept dangerously close to you. You ducked lower.
For several seconds, neither of you moved. Then John B shoved the object beneath his shirt and hurried away from the dock. He crossed the marshy edge of the property and disappeared between the trees.
You waited until the sound of his footsteps faded. Then you stepped from behind the fence. The mud sucked lightly beneath your bare feet as you approached the place where he had been searching.
Broken boards floated against the shoreline. You crouched near the edge. Something small glinted in the mud.
You reached down and pulled it free. A motel key.
Old-fashioned and heavy, attached to a faded plastic tag. You wiped mud from the surface with your thumb.
A room number emerged beneath the dirt. John B had not been searching for Rafe’s missing coke. Whatever he had found after the storm, it had been important enough to bring him onto Cameron property in the middle of the night.
Important enough for him to risk being caught. You turned the motel key beneath the beam of your phone.
Then you slipped it into your pocket.
Whatever John B Routledge was looking for, he had left something behind.
warnings: mdni, smut, mentions of abuse, murder and drinking
word count: 4k
previous
You told yourself that night with Rafe had been a mistake.
Then you answered his text the next morning.
One secret meeting became another, followed by late-night drives, stolen kisses, and increasingly convincing lies whenever Sarah asked where you had been. Neither of you ever officially discussed what was happening. You simply kept choosing each other until pretending it meant nothing became impossible.
Three weeks later, Rafe gave you the first real opportunity to prove just how far you were willing to go for him.
Bennett Cole had managed to screw over both of you within the same month.
First, he bought several hundred dollars’ worth of product from Rafe and promised to pay him after his father transferred money into his account.
He never did.
Then he used your Island Club member number to charge an expensive bottle-service tab to your family after you refused to lend him money.
When your father confronted you, Bennett denied everything.
He even told several people that you had paid the bill willingly because you were obsessed with him.
Rafe wanted his money.
You wanted Bennett to stop smiling every time he saw you.
You overheard Rafe complaining to Kelce outside the club.
“I’m done asking,” Rafe said. “He thinks because our dads know each other, I won’t do shit.”
Kelce glanced around. “Then what are you gonna do?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
You continued walking before either of them noticed you.
That night, Bennett attended a private party at the Island Club.
His car sat outside beneath the covered valet entrance; a new black Porsche his father had given him for graduation.
You waited until the valet disappeared inside.
Then you removed the key from your purse.
The first line cut deeply across the driver’s-side door.
You dragged the metal slowly through the paint, listening to the satisfying scrape.
You had nearly finished the second line when someone spoke behind you.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
You recognized Rafe’s voice immediately.
You did not turn around.
Instead, you finished carving the final scratch
Only then did you face him.
Rafe stood several feet away, staring at the ruined door.
His eyes moved to the key in your hand.
“You’re insane.”
“Are you going to stop me?”
“Haven’t decided yet.”
“Decide faster. Someone might see you.”
“See me?”
“You’re standing there looking suspicious.”
“I’m looking suspicious?”
You returned the key to your purse.
Rafe glanced toward the club entrance.
The valet had reappeared inside the lobby.
Without warning, Rafe grabbed your hand.
“Come on.”
He pulled you around the side of the building just as the valet stepped outside.
You followed him through a service hallway, both of you moving quickly but not running. Rafe nodded casually at a server carrying empty glasses, then shoved open a door leading to the back parking lot.
His truck waited several rows away.
Once you were inside, he started the engine and drove away from the club.
You checked your lipstick in the mirror.
Rafe stared at you.
“What?”
“You just destroyed a twenty-thousand-dollar paint job.”
“Probably more than that.”
“And you’re fixing your makeup.”
“My lipstick is uneven.”
“Why did you do it?”
You lowered the mirror. “He deserved it.”
“For charging shit to your account?”
“That too.”
Rafe’s expression shifted.
You looked out the window.
“He owed you,” you said.
The truck became quiet.
When you looked back, Rafe was still watching you.
“What?” you asked.
“No one does shit like that for me.”
“I didn’t do it for you.”
“Right.”
“He fucked me over too.”
“But you could’ve stopped after one scratch.”
You shrugged. “I wanted to make sure he got the message.”
Rafe smiled slowly.
Not the teasing smile he wore when he wanted to irritate you.
This one was darker.
Almost proud.
He rested one hand on your thigh.
“You’re fucking crazy.”
You placed your hand over his.
“You like that about me.”
His fingers tightened.
“Yeah,” he said. “I think I do.”
That was the first moment Rafe understood your loyalty.
It was also the first moment you understood what receiving his loyalty in return might cost.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
By the time spring settled over the island, whatever had begun between you and Rafe was no longer casual. You were officially together; just not to anyone else.
In public, you were longtime friends who flirted too much and argued even more. Behind closed doors, keeping your hands off each other had become nearly impossible.
Sarah suspected nothing.
She had become too preoccupied with Topper to notice that you disappeared from parties at the same time as her brother or that Rafe had stopped bringing girls home.
The rest of Figure Eight saw what you wanted them to see.
You and Rafe were childhood acquaintances who barely tolerated each other.
Nothing more.
The boys had finished golfing and joined you on the Island Club patio for afternoon drinks.
Sarah sat beside Topper. Kelce complained about his score. Rafe lounged across from you wearing a pale blue polo, his ankle resting over one knee.
Beneath the table, the toe of his shoe touched yours.
You kicked him lightly.
He did it again.
“Are you listening?” Sarah asked.
“Of course.”
“What did I say?”
“You’re mad at Topper.”
She frowned. “I was talking about my dad.”
“Same tone.”
Topper laughed.
A shadow fell across the table.
Grayson Mercer stood beside your chair, a drink in one hand and an unpleasant smile on his face.
You knew Grayson well enough to dislike him.
He was the kind of Kook who believed inherited money counted as a personality. He had asked you out twice and responded badly both times you declined.
“Look who it is,” he said.
You glanced up. “Grayson.”
“You always need this much male attention?”
Topper’s smile faded.
Kelce looked down at his drink.
Rafe remained still, but his eyes sharpened.
You leaned back in your chair. “Did you need something?”
“Just making an observation.”
“Congratulations.”
Grayson laughed without humor. “You know what people say about you, right?”
Sarah straightened. “Grayson, don’t.”
He ignored her.
“Do you ever get tired of throwing yourself at every guy with a trust fund?”
You smiled politely. “Do I?”
“They say you’re desperate.”
Rafe lowered his foot to the ground.
Grayson continued.
“Personally, I think there’s a simpler word for a girl who constantly throws herself at guys.”
Rafe pushed his chair back.
You held up one hand without looking at him.
He stopped.
Your gaze remained on Grayson.
“Are you calling me a slut?”
“If the shoe fits.”
The patio had quieted around you.
Several nearby tables pretended not to listen.
You placed your drink on the table.
“Does your father know?”
Grayson’s smile faltered. “Know what?”
“About the money you've been transferring.”
His face changed.
You continued sweetly.
“Forty-eight thousand dollars since December, right? Most of it went to gambling sites, but there were a few payments to a girl in Charleston too.”
Sarah stared at you.
Topper’s mouth fell open.
Grayson’s face drained of color. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know your father thinks his accountant made a mistake.”
“You’re lying.”
“I also know the transfers came from an IP address registered to the guesthouse behind your parents’ property.” You tilted your head. “Isn’t that where you live because your father doesn’t trust you in the main house?”
Grayson looked around the patio.
Everyone was staring now.
You smiled.
“You should be more careful about insulting people who know your secrets.”
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
After several seconds, Grayson turned and walked away.
The patio slowly returned to life.
Sarah looked at you in disbelief. “How did you know that?”
“I listen.”
“To bank transfers?”
“People talk.”
Across the table, Rafe was smiling.
He had seen you reckless before.
He had seen you steal, lie, and carve lines into someone’s car without flinching.
But this was different.
You hadn't raised your voice. You didn't made a scene. You had diminished Grayson with a smile and returned to your drink as if nothing had happened.
Rafe’s eyes moved over you with open admiration.
Later, he would tell you that was the moment he realized you were not merely entertaining.
You were calculated.
Cruel when necessary.
Much more like him than anyone realized.
It was also the moment his attraction turned into something dangerously close to obsession.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Six months slipped by before you realized how much had changed.
Sarah had started disappearing.
Not literally. She was still there; sleeping beside you after parties, sending you pictures of dresses she wanted to buy, and calling whenever she fought with her father.
But Topper occupied more of her time now.
Plans that once belonged to the two of you automatically included him. Boat days became dates you were invited to join. Lunch turned into watching them whisper across the table. Even when Topper was not physically present, Sarah somehow made every conversation about him.
You complained about it to Rafe from his bed.
“She canceled on me again.”
Rafe’s mouth moved lazily across your shoulder.
You were lying on your stomach beneath his sheets, wearing only one of his shirts. He stretched beside you, shirtless, one hand resting beneath the fabric against your bare hip.
“She’s with Topper,” you continued.
“I know.”
“You’re not listening.”
“I am.”
He kissed the back of your neck.
“What did I say?”
“Sarah canceled.”
“Why?”
“Topper.”
“What were we supposed to do?”
Rafe paused.
You turned your head.
He grinned.
“You’re an asshole.”
“I don’t care what you and Sarah were supposed to do.”
“You should. She’s your sister.”
“Exactly why I don’t.”
You rolled onto your back.
The movement caused the shirt to ride higher over your thighs. Rafe’s gaze dropped immediately.
“My eyes are up here.”
“Seen them.”
You shoved his shoulder.
He caught your wrist and kissed the inside of it.
“I’m serious,” you said. “We barely spend time together anymore.”
“You spend time with me.”
“Secretly.”
“Still counts.”
“She doesn’t even notice when I leave.”
Rafe moved over you.
His knee settled between your thighs, gently pushing them apart.
“You complaining?”
“About Sarah.”
“I know.”
“You keep distracting me.”
His mouth brushed yours. “I know.”
You turned your face, forcing his lips onto your cheek.
“I think she knows something is wrong.”
“With us?”
“With me.”
Rafe kissed your jaw.
“Maybe you should tell her.”
You stared at him.
He smiled against your skin.
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“You’d never tell her.”
“She’d get over it.”
“Sarah holds grudges over people borrowing her clothes.”
“She likes you more than she likes me.”
“That’s exactly why she’d be furious.”
Rafe’s hand slid beneath the shirt and up your stomach.
“She’ll be fine.”
His thumb brushed over your nipple.
Your breath caught.
“Stop.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I’m trying to talk.”
“You’ve been talking for twenty minutes.”
“Because you’re not responding.”
“I’ve responded.”
“You’ve kissed me.”
“Same thing.”
His mouth closed over yours.
You tried holding onto your annoyance, but his hand cupped your breast while his thigh pressed more firmly between yours.
Your body betrayed you immediately.
Rafe smiled into the kiss.
“Don’t,” you warned.
“Don’t what?”
“Be smug.”
“You’re grinding against my leg.”
“I am not.”
He flexed his thigh.
Pleasure sparked between your legs.
You inhaled sharply.
Rafe’s teeth caught your lower lip.
“Liar.”
“You’re proving Sarah’s point.”
“What point?”
“That you’re unstable.”
“And yet you keep ending up naked in my bed.”
You twisted your fingers into his hair and pulled his mouth down to yours.
The argument about Sarah ended there.
Most of your arguments did.
Thirty minutes later, you lay beneath the sheet with your head on Rafe’s chest, tracing one of the scratches you had left along his ribs.
He played with the ends of your hair.
“You still mad at her?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t sound mad five minutes ago.”
You lifted your head. “That had nothing to do with Sarah.”
“You yelled my name.”
You slapped his chest.
Rafe laughed and caught your hand.
His expression softened as he brought your knuckles to his mouth.
“Come to the party tomorrow.”
“At Tannyhill?”
“Yeah.”
“Sarah already invited me.”
“Then why are you acting like I asked?”
“Because you never ask.”
Rafe’s thumb brushed over your fingers.
“Come for me.”
You studied him.
Sometimes Rafe said things so casually that it took several seconds for their weight to settle.
“Fine,” you said.
He smiled. “Knew you would.”
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
The Tannyhill party was already crowded when you arrived.
Music poured through the open doors and across the lawn. Kooks filled the living room, kitchen, patio, and every hallway Ward had failed to lock.
Sarah found you near the entrance.
“You came!”
“You invited me.”
“You said you might be busy.”
“I changed my mind.”
She hooked her arm through yours and pulled you toward the kitchen.
Rafe stood near the counter with Kelce.
His gaze found you immediately.
He wore a white button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. The top buttons were undone, exposing the chain at his neck.
You had helped him choose the shirt earlier that afternoon while sitting in his bedroom wearing nothing but underwear.
Now you looked at him like you could barely tolerate his existence.
Sarah unknowingly shoved you directly beside him.
“Move,” she told Rafe. “I need cups.”
“There are cups behind you.”
“Then get them.”
She pushed a stack into his hands before looking at you.
“Help him make drinks?”
You glanced at Rafe.
“No.”
“Yes,” Sarah said, already disappearing toward Topper.
Rafe leaned closer.
“Play nice.”
“Move before I throw this bottle at you.”
“You liked me fine this morning.”
Kelce laughed. “You two are fucking exhausting.”
“You have no idea,” Rafe murmured.
You kicked him beneath the counter.
For the next hour, Sarah repeatedly placed you beside him without realizing it.
She saved the seat next to Rafe because she wanted to sit beside Topper. She sent both of you to retrieve another bottle from the pantry. She asked Rafe to find your phone when you misplaced it, apparently forgetting that you and her brother supposedly hated being alone together.
Every interaction became a game.
A brush of his fingers at your waist while passing behind you.
Your nails grazing his wrist when he handed you a drink.
His knee pressing between yours beneath the table.
The smallest touches felt more dangerous when surrounded by people who could not know.
Then Topper started flirting.
At first, it was obvious he was trying to make Sarah jealous.
She had spent half the party talking to another boy, and Topper responded by turning his attention toward you.
He brought you a drink.
Complimented your dress.
Placed his hand at your lower back while leading you through the crowded living room.
You knew exactly what he was doing.
So did Sarah.
That was why you allowed it.
“You look really good tonight,” Topper said loudly enough for her to hear.
You smiled. “You’ve mentioned.”
“Just making sure you know.”
Across the room, Sarah glared over the rim of her cup.
You hid your amusement.
Topper leaned closer. “Is it working?”
“She’s watching.”
“Good.”
His hand remained on your waist.
Behind him, Rafe stood near the staircase.
His expression had gone completely still.
You met his eyes.
Rafe looked from your face to Topper’s hand.
A warning.
You ignored it.
Topper whispered something about Sarah pretending not to care. You laughed and rested your hand against his chest for effect.
Rafe disappeared from the staircase.
Several minutes later, someone caught your elbow as you passed the hallway.
You were pulled through a doorway.
The lock clicked behind you.
Rafe pushed you against the wall of Ward’s office.
“What the fuck was that?”
You stared at him. “What was what?”
“Topper.”
“He’s trying to make Sarah jealous.”
“With you?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re letting him?”
You crossed your arms. “Sarah has spent the last six months driving him insane. I’m helping.”
“By letting him touch you?”
“It’s not real.”
“His hand looked real.”
You laughed. “Are you jealous?”
Rafe stepped closer.
“You think this is funny?”
“A little.”
His hand closed around your jaw, tilting your face toward his.
“You liked him touching you?”
“Maybe.”
The lie had barely left your mouth before Rafe kissed you.
The back of your head struck the wall softly.
His mouth was rough and possessive, swallowing your startled breath as his body pinned you in place. You grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.
Rafe’s hand slid down your throat.
Over your chest.
Around your waist.
He gripped your hip hard enough to leave marks.
“You’re being insane,” you whispered against his mouth.
“You were all over him.”
“I was helping Sarah.”
“You had your hand on his chest.”
“You watch me closely.”
His teeth caught your bottom lip.
Pain flashed briefly, followed by heat.
You gasped.
Rafe kissed the sore spot before dragging his mouth along your jaw.
“You’re mine.”
“You don’t own me.”
“Could’ve fooled me this morning.”
His hand slipped beneath your dress, sliding up the outside of your thigh.
You tilted your head as his lips moved down your neck.
“You wanted this to stay secret,” you reminded him.
Rafe lifted his head.
“I wanted us secret.” His fingers tightened against your thigh. “I didn’t say I wanted him touching you.”
“Then tell everyone.”
His jaw clenched.
You knew he would not.
Rafe wanted you in a way that consumed him, but he also understood what exposure would mean. Sarah would feel betrayed. Ward would interfere. Every person on Figure Eight would have an opinion.
The secrecy protected both of you.
It also gave Rafe an excuse to keep you entirely to himself.
“You wouldn’t,” you whispered.
His eyes darkened.
“You sure?”
You opened your mouth to answer.
Rafe kissed you again.
His hand moved higher beneath your dress, fingertips brushing the edge of your underwear. You inhaled sharply when he pressed against you through the fabric.
“Rafe.”
“What?”
“We’re at a party.”
“You didn’t care about that outside the Boneyard.”
“That was different.”
“You were against a car.”
“No one was looking for us.”
His fingers pushed your underwear aside.
You tightened your grip on his shirt.
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re already wet.”
Heat rushed through your face.
“Shut up.”
Rafe slid one finger into you.
Your head fell back against the wall.
He watched your expression, lips parting in satisfaction when your body tightened around him.
“You gonna keep pretending you don’t like this?”
“I never said that.”
“You said maybe when I asked about Topper.”
“I was teasing you.”
“Bad idea.”
He added another finger.
Your hand flew to his wrist, but you did not pull him away. His fingers curled slowly inside you, hitting the spot that made your knees weaken.
Rafe caught your waist with his free hand.
“Quiet,” he murmured.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
His thumb circled your clit.
A broken sound escaped you.
Rafe kissed you to swallow it.
Your hips moved against his hand, dress bunched around his wrist as he worked you closer. The jealousy had not disappeared from him. It sharpened every touch, every press of his fingers, every rough kiss against your mouth.
“You let him touch you again,” Rafe said against your lips, “I’ll tell him exactly who you go home with.”
“You won’t.”
His fingers thrust deeper.
You clenched around them.
“Try me.”
A knock struck the office door.
You both froze.
“Hello?” Sarah called from the hallway.
Your eyes widened.
Rafe’s fingers were still inside you.
“Rafe?” Sarah tried the handle. “Are you in there?”
You shoved at his chest.
He slowly withdrew his hand, bringing his fingers to his mouth while looking directly at you.
Your lips parted in disbelief.
He sucked them clean.
“Psychotic,” you whispered.
“Your best friend’s waiting.”
Another knock.
“Rafe!”
He gestured toward the adjoining door that connected Ward’s office to a smaller sitting room.
You fixed your underwear, dragged your dress down, and hurried across the room.
Rafe caught your waist before you could leave.
“What?”
He kissed you once more.
Hard.
His teeth caught your already tender lip.
You tasted blood.
“You asshole.”
“Thirty seconds,” he said. “Then go downstairs.”
You slipped into the adjoining room and closed the door.
Rafe waited until you were gone before opening the main office door.
You heard Sarah’s voice through the wall.
“What were you doing in Dad’s office?”
“Looking for something.”
“You locked the door.”
“So?”
“You’re being weird.”
“I’m always weird, remember?”
You escaped through the sitting room and entered the hallway at the opposite end.
By the time you returned to the kitchen, your pulse had slowed slightly.
You grabbed a napkin and pressed it against your lip.
Topper appeared beside you.
“Where did you go?”
“Bathroom.”
He glanced at your mouth. “What happened?”
You checked your reflection in the dark kitchen window.
Your lipstick was smeared. Your hair was tangled. Your lower lip had split slightly where Rafe’s teeth caught it.
“Nothing.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Thank you, Topper.”
Sarah entered the kitchen seconds later.
Rafe followed several feet behind her.
He looked infuriatingly composed. His shirt was slightly wrinkled, but his hair had been pushed back into place.
Sarah’s gaze landed on you.
Then on the napkin against your mouth.
“What happened?”
You lowered it.
“Nothing.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Who busted your lip?”
You touched the sore spot.
Before you could invent an explanation, Kelce stumbled backward into the kitchen carrying an empty champagne bottle.
Topper automatically grabbed your waist to move you out of his path.
Rafe’s gaze dropped to his hand.
Sarah noticed.
Only for a second.
But she noticed.
“Kelce hit me,” you said quickly.
Kelce stared at you. “I did?”
“With the bottle.”
He looked down at it. “Oh.”
Topper laughed. “You’d know if he hit you with that.”
“Not helping,” you muttered.
Sarah continued studying your face.
“What bathroom did you use?”
“The one upstairs.”
“That one’s locked.”
Your stomach dropped.
Rafe reached into the refrigerator.
“She probably walked into a door,” he said casually. “She’s been doing it since she was ten.”
You glared at him.
Sarah looked between you.
“How would you know?”
Rafe twisted the cap off his drink.
“Because she’s always here.”
The answer was reasonable.
It still left something uneasy in Sarah’s expression.
Topper called her name from the patio.
She did not move immediately.
Then she glanced toward him.
“I’ll be right there.”
Sarah pointed at you.
“Don’t disappear again.”
She followed Topper outside.
Kelce wandered after them, still studying the champagne bottle as though trying to determine whether he had truly hit you.
The kitchen fell quiet.
You and Rafe stood on opposite sides of the room.
He lifted his drink to his mouth.
You narrowed your eyes at him.
Your phone vibrated inside your hand.
A message appeared across the screen.
Rafe: You’re a terrible liar.
You typed quickly.
You: You bit through my lip.
His response came instantly.
Rafe: You liked it.
You looked up.
Rafe’s gaze dropped to your mouth.
You fought the urge to smile.
Another message appeared.
Rafe: Come upstairs when she leaves.
You: You almost got us caught.
Rafe: And you still followed me.
You glanced through the open doors toward the patio.
Sarah stood with her arms around Topper’s neck, laughing at something he said. Six months earlier, she would have noticed every time you left a room.
Now she barely noticed you disappearing.
Part of you hated her for it.
Another part was grateful.
Your phone vibrated one final time.
Rafe: Don’t tell her.
You looked across the kitchen.
He was already walking toward the stairs, leaving without waiting to see whether you would follow.
For six months, you had lied directly to Sarah’s face.
You had hidden marks beneath makeup, slipped out of parties through side doors, and memorized exactly which floorboards outside Rafe’s bedroom made the least noise.
You told yourself the secrecy was temporary.
That eventually, you would grow tired of sneaking around.
Instead, you placed your drink on the counter.
You waited exactly thirty seconds.
Then you followed him upstairs.
Neither of you knew the secret would survive for another year and a half.
Or that by the time the island finally learned the truth, hiding your relationship would be the least dangerous thing the two of you had done.
warnings: mdni, smut, mentions of abuse, murder and drinking
word count: 5.4k
previous
At eighteen, you had already mastered the most important part of being a Kook.
You knew how to look innocent.
You knew how to sit through charity luncheons without rolling your eyes, how to smile at your parents’ friends while they asked about college, and how to laugh politely when men twice your age made jokes that were not remotely funny. You knew which fork to use, which families quietly hated one another, and exactly how much trouble you could cause before your last name stopped protecting you.
Your family had belonged to the Island Club longer than you had been alive. Your father played golf with Ward Cameron. Your mother drank wine with Rose at fundraisers. You had grown up alongside Topper, Kelce, and the Cameron children, surrounded by expensive boats and sprawling houses that made the rest of the island feel impossibly far away.
To everyone on Figure Eight, you were another perfectly raised Kook daughter.
Sarah Cameron’s best friend.
Polished. Privileged. Harmless.
Rafe Cameron knew better.
Maybe it was because he had caught you at the wrong moment in time.
Or maybe it was because, three weeks earlier, you had drunkenly kissed him in an upstairs bathroom and then spent every day since pretending it had never happened.
Either way, Rafe watched you differently now.
And you were beginning to enjoy it.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Two years ago
The Cameron boat sat at the end of the dock, blindingly white beneath the afternoon sun.
Sarah had organized the entire day, which meant she had spent the morning texting everyone repeatedly, demanding that no one arrive late while somehow managing to be the last person ready herself.
Topper and Kelce were already loading coolers onto the boat. Rafe stood near the wheel wearing a pale polo shirt and sunglasses, one hand resting on the console as he argued with Topper about who was driving.
You had arrived early enough to find Sarah still upstairs changing for the third time.
That was how you ended up alone in the Cameron kitchen.
Ward’s liquor cabinet was built into the wall beside the pantry, polished wood concealing enough alcohol to supply half the island. You opened it carefully, scanning the bottles until you found an unopened bottle of expensive tequila tucked behind a row of whiskey.
You had just wrapped your fingers around its neck when a voice spoke behind you.
“That one’s shit.”
You didn't flinch although your hand tightened around the bottle.
Rafe leaned against the kitchen doorway, nineteen years old and already carrying himself like every room belonged to him. His sunglasses were pushed into his hair, exposing blue eyes that moved from the open cabinet to the tequila in your hand.
“I didn’t ask,” you said. “No, you usually don’t.”
You turned back toward the cabinet. “Shouldn’t you be outside pretending you know how to drive a boat?”
“I know how to drive it.”
“You nearly hit a dock last summer.”
“The dock was already fucked up.”
“Right.”
You started pulling the bottle free.
Rafe crossed the kitchen before you could close the cabinet. He reached over your shoulder, his chest brushing your back as his hand covered yours around the neck of the bottle.
The contact was brief.
It still sent a sharp flicker through your stomach.
He took the tequila from you and returned it to its place.
“If you’re going to steal from my dad, at least take something worth stealing.”
“I wasn’t stealing.”
“You were holding it behind your back.”
“I was reading the label.”
He laughed beneath his breath. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“And you’re blocking the cabinet.”
Rafe did not move. Instead, he reached past you again, searching the top shelf until his fingers closed around a darker bottle.
He pulled it down and handed it to you.
“Take this.”
You studied the label. “This is twice as expensive.”
“Exactly.”
“I liked the other one.”
“No, you picked the first bottle you saw because you heard someone coming.”
You looked up at him.
He was standing unnecessarily close, one arm still braced against the cabinet beside your head.
Three weeks earlier, you had been just as close.
Drunk enough to blame the decision on vodka but sober enough to remember every second of it.
The crowded party. The bathroom door locked behind you. Rafe staring at your mouth while you told him he was insufferable. His hand curling around the back of your neck. The startled sound you made when he kissed you.
You had kissed him back.
For nearly five full minutes.
Then you had pushed him away, fixed your lipstick, and walked downstairs as though nothing had happened.
Rafe hadn't texted you the next morning.
You hadn't either.
The tension was unspoken but in a way acknowledged.
“You planning on staring at me all day?” he asked.
“I’m deciding whether this bottle is worth Sarah murdering me.”
“Sarah doesn’t pay attention to anything that doesn’t involve herself.”
“That’s not true.”
Rafe raised his eyebrows.
From upstairs came Sarah’s voice.
“Are you guys ready?”
You stepped away from Rafe and returned the bottle to the cabinet.
His expression shifted. “What are you doing?”
“Putting it back.”
“You were just going to take it.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“Maybe I don’t need your help.”
Something darker flashed behind his smile.
“You didn’t seem to have a problem with my help in that bathroom.”
Your gaze snapped toward the doorway.
“Keep your voice down.”
“No one’s here.”
“Sarah’s upstairs.”
Rafe leaned closer. “Then you better stop looking guilty.”
“I don’t look guilty.”
“You always touch your necklace when you lie.”
Your fingers immediately dropped from the chain around your neck.
His grin widened.
“Asshole.”
“There you are!”
Sarah entered the kitchen wearing a blue bikini beneath an oversized white shirt. She slowed when she saw the two of you standing beside the open liquor cabinet.
Her eyes moved from Rafe to you.
“What are you doing?”
“Your brother was lecturing me,” you answered.
“Your friend was wondering how many bottles we should bring,” Rafe said at the same time.
You glared at him.
Sarah laughed. “Can you two not fight for one day?”
“We weren’t fighting,” Rafe said.
“That’s literally all you do.”
He looked at you instead of answering.
It was subtle enough that Sarah missed it.
You did not.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
The boat day should have felt ordinary.
Sarah stretched across the cushioned seat beside you while Topper drove, one hand resting on the wheel and the other draped over the back of her seat whenever Rafe was not looking.
Kelce controlled the music. Rafe complained about it. The sun burned against your shoulders while the shoreline slowly disappeared behind you.
It was the kind of afternoon you had experienced a hundred times before.
Except Rafe’s knee kept touching yours beneath the small table.
The first time, you assumed the boat had shifted.
The second time, you moved your leg.
The third time, he followed.
You looked up.
Rafe sat across from you wearing sunglasses, his attention apparently fixed on something Kelce was saying.
His knee pressed firmly against the inside of yours.
You kicked his ankle.
He barely reacted.
Sarah continued talking beside you, unaware.
“I’m just saying,” she said, glancing toward Topper, “he looks good driving.”
“You say that every time he touches a steering wheel,” you replied.
“He does.”
“You have a boyfriend, Sarah.”
She lowered her voice. “Not officially.”
“He follows you around like a golden retriever.”
“That doesn’t make him my boyfriend.”
From across the table, Rafe said, “Sarah he’s your little bitch and you know it”
Sarah threw a napkin at him.
Rafe caught it without looking away from you.
His knee remained between yours.
By the time Topper anchored near a quiet stretch of water, your patience had worn thin.
Everyone jumped in except you.
Sarah begged you twice, but you claimed you wanted to fix your hair before it dried strangely. In reality, the water was cold, the sun was warm, and you had noticed Kelce leave his leather bag unzipped beside the console.
You waited until Sarah had swum toward Topper.
Then you crossed the deck.
You were not looking for anything specific.
That was the difference between a thief and someone who merely enjoyed knowing what people carried when they thought no one was watching.
Kelce’s bag contained sunglasses, a phone charger, loose cash, a packet of something you did not touch, and 6 joints in a zip lock bag.
You turned it over in your hand and took one out.
“Again?”
Rafe’s voice came from behind you.
You closed your fingers around the joint before turning.
Water ran down his bare chest and disappeared beneath the waistband of his swim trunks. His wet hair had fallen across his forehead, and he wore the deeply entertained expression of someone who had finally confirmed a suspicion.
“I dropped something,” you said.
“Into Kelce’s bag?”
“Maybe.”
Rafe stepped closer.
You held his stare until he glanced toward your closed fist.
“Open your hand.”
“No.”
“Open it.”
“Make me.”
His mouth twitched.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
Then Rafe reached for your wrist.
You tried pulling away, but he caught you easily, turning your palm upward and unfolding your fingers one at a time.
The joint flashed between you.
Rafe stared at it.
You waited for him to call Kelce.
“Wanna smoke it with me?’
Instead, he took the joint, leaned around you, and returned it to the bag.
“You’re weird,” he said.
“You’re dramatic.”
“Since when do you smoke.”
“Nirvana or whatever they say.”
“You know if you wanted a good joint, all you had to do was ask instead of enjoying a shitty preroll.”
You slipped around him, but his hand closed around your wrist again.
“Why do you keep pretending?”
You glanced toward the water.
Sarah and Topper were too distracted by each other to notice anything. Kelce floated several yards away with his eyes closed.
“Pretending what?”
“That you’re like her.”
You looked back at him.
Rafe’s grip loosened but did not disappear.
“Sarah is my best friend.”
“Didn’t answer the question.”
“You haven’t asked one.”
“You act perfect around her.” His eyes moved over your face. “Then I catch you stealing alcohol and going through people’s shit.”
“You deal drugs out of your father’s boat house.”
His jaw tightened.
You smiled. “Did you think I didn’t know?”
“Careful.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Maybe.”
“It needs work.”
Rafe released your wrist.
You stepped toward the edge of the boat and nodded at the rocky ledge overlooking the water.
“You should jump.”
He followed your gaze. “From there?”
“You scared?”
“No.”
“Then do it.”
“That’s your brilliant plan? Dare me until I break my neck?”
“You’d have to have one first.”
Rafe looked at you for several long seconds.
Then he climbed onto the side of the boat.
“What the hell are you doing?” Kelce called from the water.
Rafe ignored him.
He crossed the narrow strip of rock, climbed to the highest point, and looked back toward the boat.
You stood with your arms crossed.
“Still scared?” you called.
He smiled.
Then he jumped.
Sarah screamed. Kelce shouted something unintelligible. Topper immediately announced that he could jump from somewhere higher.
Rafe disappeared beneath the surface before emerging several seconds later, pushing his wet hair from his eyes.
He looked directly at you.
Not Sarah.
Not Topper.
You.
And you could not stop yourself from smiling.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Later, while Sarah and Topper argued over music and Kelce attempted to finish every drink on the boat, you went below deck.
You had barely reached the narrow cabin when Rafe followed.
The door clicked shut behind him.
You turned. “What?”
“You think that was funny?”
“You jumped.”
“Because you told me to.”
“No one forced you.”
He moved closer, crowding you against the small counter.
“You wanted me to do it.”
“I wanted to know if you would.”
“And?”
“And you did.”
His hands settled on the counter on either side of you.
The cabin suddenly felt much smaller.
“Havent seen you since that night, its been what 12 days?,” he said.
“You counted?”
“You kissed me.”
“You kissed me first.”
“And you kissed back.”
“I was drunk.”
“So was I.”
“That’s why it doesn’t matter.”
“Bullshit.”
His face hovered inches from yours.
The teasing had disappeared from his expression. In its place was the same focus you remembered from the bathroom, right before his mouth had covered yours.
“You remember it,” he said.
“I remember regretting it.”
“You’re touching your necklace again.”
You dropped your hand.
Rafe smiled faintly.
“You like lying to me?”
“I like when you believe me.”
“I don’t.”
His hand moved from the counter to your waist.
The touch was slow enough that you could have stopped him.
You did not.
His thumb traced the strip of exposed skin above your swimsuit bottoms, rough and warm against you.
“You’re supposed to hate me,” he murmured.
“I do.”
“Then why haven’t you moved?”
You opened your mouth, but the cabin door flew open.
“There you are!”
Sarah stood in the doorway.
Rafe’s hand dropped from your waist.
You stepped sideways so quickly that your hip struck the counter.
Sarah glanced between you.
“What’s going on?”
“She was snooping through the cabinets,” Rafe said.
You stared at him.
Sarah groaned. “Dont you two get bored of arguing all the time?”
“I caught her.”
“Maybe she was looking for something.”
“She usually is.”
You narrowed your eyes. “I hate you.”
Rafe smiled. “Sure.”
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
By the time you returned to Tannyhill, the sun had disappeared behind the trees.
Sarah spent another hour in the kitchen talking about Topper while you nodded at the appropriate moments and tried not to think about Rafe’s hand on your waist.
“He almost kissed me in the water,” she said.
“You have a boyfriend.”
“I told you, we’re not technically-”
“You’ve been saying that for three months.”
Sarah ignored you and continued talking.
Rafe passed through the kitchen once, carrying a duffel bag over his shoulder. He did not look at you.
That bothered you more than it should have.
Eventually, you grabbed your tote from the back of a kitchen chair and said goodnight.
You drove home with the windows open, warm air rushing through the car. When you reached your driveway, you turned off the engine but remained behind the wheel.
Your phone had disappeared somewhere inside your bag.
You dug through sunscreen, lip gloss, your wallet, and a tangled pair of earbuds before your hand struck something solid.
You frowned.
The dark glass bottle Rafe had recommended sat at the bottom of your tote.
A stick note on the face of the bottle.
You owe me. -R
You stared at the words.
Then at the bottle.
A slow smile spread across your face.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
A week had passed since Rafe gave you the bottle, yet it remained untouched. You had barely thought about opening it before Sarah invited you to lunch at the Island Club.
That was where you both spent most summer days.
You sat beneath a striped umbrella overlooking the golf course while Sarah pushed lettuce around her plate and complained that Topper had taken four hours to answer her last message.
“He was golfing,” you said.
“He always has his phone.”
“You’re not dating.”
“That doesn’t mean he should ignore me.”
You took a sip of iced tea. “You ignore him constantly.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because I’m me.”
You laughed. “Compelling argument.”
Sarah kicked you beneath the table.
After lunch, you walked into the club bar to ask for another drink.
Rafe was already there.
He leaned against a stainless-steel counter, turning his phone between his hands while one of the bartenders searched for something in the storeroom.
His gaze lifted when you entered.
Then dropped to your mouth.
“You drink it?” he asked.
You glanced toward the storeroom. “Drink what?”
“My dad’s bottle.”
“You mean the bottle you stole?”
“For you.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“You kept it.”
“I might return it.”
“You won’t.”
You approached the bartender and asked for a bottle of water.
Rafe stepped behind you.
“You still owe me.”
“For what?”
“Not exposing you.”
“You would’ve had to expose yourself too.”
“Could’ve said you took it.”
“You did.”
“Who would they believe?”
You turn around and found him close enough that you nearly walked into his chest.
“You’re so full of yourself.”
“You keep answering my texts.”
“I answer one out of every five.”
“Still counts.”
His hand brushed the side of your hip.
The movement looked accidental.
It was not.
“What do you want?” you asked quietly.
“You know.”
“I really don’t.”
“Liar.”
Rafe leaned closer, his mouth near your ear.
“You looked disappointed when Sarah opened that door.”
Heat crawled up your neck.
“I looked relieved.”
“Didn’t feel like it.”
“You didn’t feel anything.”
His fingers lightly caught the belt loop of your shorts.
“Want to test that?”
“Rafe.”
Sarah’s voice cut through the bar.
His hand disappeared.
She stood several feet away, watching you.
Rafe stepped back and grabbed a drink from the counter.
“You two fighting again?” she asked.
“He’s bothering me,” you replied.
“She started it.”
“I came in here for water.”
“And somehow ruined my entire day.”
Rafe looked at you as he passed.
His eyes dipped to your mouth one final time.
Then he left.
Sarah waited until the bar door swung shut behind him.
“Seriously,” she said.
You twisted the cap off your water. “What?”
“Stay away from him.”
You laughed as though the idea were ridiculous. “Trust me, I’m trying.”
“No, I mean it.” Her expression had turned unusually serious. “He isn’t like Topper or Kelce. Rafe is actually unstable.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“You don’t see how he gets.”
“I’ve known him as long as you have.”
“He’s my brother.”
“And?”
“And I know him better.”
You leaned against the counter. “Sarah, I don’t like Rafe.”
She studied your face.
You resisted the urge to touch your necklace.
“Good,” she said eventually. “Because he’d ruin your life.”
You smiled.
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
That was the first lie you told Sarah about him.
It would not be the last.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
That night, you saw Rafe at the Boneyard.
Music rattled from portable speakers while dozens of people gathered around bonfires and half-buried coolers. Kooks mixed with Pogues beneath the cover of darkness, everyone pretending that the island’s imaginary border disappeared after midnight.
Sarah had vanished with Topper almost immediately.
You spent an hour dancing with people you barely knew before slipping away from the crowd for a smoke
Rafe was leaning against his truck.
You nearly turned around.
“Don’t,” he called.
You stopped.
“Don’t what?”
“Pretend you didn’t see me.”
“I was going to my car.”
“Your car’s the other way.”
You looked toward the parking area.
He was right.
Annoying.
Rafe pushed away from the truck.
“You tell Sarah you hate me?”
“I didn’t have to. She already knows.”
“You’re funny.”
“I try.”
He stopped in front of you.
The bonfire illuminated one side of his face, sharpening the line of his jaw.
“You gonna keep ignoring me?”
“You keep asking questions you already know the answer to.”
“I know you like me.”
You laughed. “Is that what you tell yourself?”
“It’s what you told me when you had your tongue in my mouth.”
“I did not say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“You’re delusional.”
“And you’re scared.”
“Of you?”
“Of Sarah finding out.”
Your smile disappeared.
Rafe noticed.
“So that’s it,” he said. “You’re not regretting it. You’re scared of her.”
“I’m not scared of Sarah.”
“Then why act like I disgust you every time she walks into a room?”
“Maybe you do.”
He caught your waist when you tried to move past him.
“Baby we both know that’s not true”
The grip was firm but not painful, pulling you back until your shoulder met the side of his truck.
“Tell me to stop,” he said.
You stared at him.
His body was close enough to trap heat between you. One hand remained at your waist while the other came to rest beside your head against the truck.
“You’re making a scene.”
“No one’s looking.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
“Then tell me to stop.”
You should have.
Instead, you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into you.
Rafe kissed you hard enough to knock the back of your head lightly against the truck.
His hand slid around your waist, dragging your hips flush against his. Your mouth opened beneath his, and he made a low sound against your lips that erased the last of your common sense.
The kiss in the bathroom had been messy and drunken.
This was deliberate.
Rafe kissed like he had spent three weeks imagining exactly how he would do it again. His mouth moved roughly over yours, one hand gripping your hip while the other curled around the back of your neck.
You tangled your fingers in his hair.
He tilted your head and kissed you deeper.
The metal of the truck was cool against your back. Rafe was warm everywhere else, pressing against you until there was no mistaking how badly he wanted you.
Your breath caught.
He smiled against your mouth.
“Still disgusted?”
“Shut up.”
You kissed him again before he could answer.
His hand slipped beneath the edge of your shirt, palm spreading across your bare stomach. His thumb traced upward, stopping just beneath your bra as his mouth left yours.
Rafe kissed the corner of your lips.
Then your jaw.
Then the sensitive spot beneath your ear.
You tightened your fingers in his hair.
“Rafe.”
“What?”
His lips moved down your throat.
“You know what.”
“I really don’t.”
He sucked lightly against your skin.
A shiver moved through you.
“You’re going to leave a mark.”
“Good.”
“Sarah will see.”
“Why would she think I gave you that? We can't stand each other.”
His teeth grazed your neck, followed by the slow press of his tongue.
Your knees nearly weakened.
Rafe noticed that too.
He slid one thigh between yours, holding you upright as his mouth returned to yours. The hand beneath your shirt moved higher, fingertips brushing the underside of your breast through your bra.
You arched into him before you could stop yourself.
“Fuck,” he murmured.
His thumb swept over your nipple through the thin material.
Heat tightened low in your stomach.
You pulled his mouth back to yours, kissing him to silence the sound threatening to escape you. His hips pressed forward, grinding against you once.
The friction sent a sharp pulse through your body.
You did it again deliberately.
Rafe broke the kiss.
His pupils were blown wide.
“Careful.”
“You scared?”
He laughed, breathless and disbelieving.
“You really need to stop asking me that.”
His hand slid down your side, beneath the hem of your skirt. His fingers traced the inside of your thigh, slowly moving higher as he watched your expression.
You could hear the party somewhere beyond the trees.
The music.
People shouting.
Kelce asking for another shot.
Your phone began ringing.
The sound vibrated loudly from your pocket.
You froze.
Rafe dropped his forehead against yours.
“Don’t answer.”
You pulled the phone free.
Sarah’s name illuminated the screen.
“I have to.”
“No, you don’t.”
“She’s my ride.”
“You drove.”
“She thinks she’s my ride.”
Rafe stared at you.
You answered.
“Hey.”
“Where are you?” Sarah shouted over the music. “I want to go home.”
You glanced at Rafe.
His hand remained beneath your skirt, resting dangerously high against your thigh.
“I’m near the cars.”
“With who?”
“No one. I'm just smoking”
Rafe smiled.
You slapped a hand over his mouth before he could speak.
“I’ll meet you in five minutes,” you said.
Sarah complained about Topper for several seconds before hanging up.
You lowered the phone.
Rafe kissed your palm.
You pulled your hand away.
“I have to go.”
“Come back.”
“I’m taking her home.”
“After.”
“It’ll be late.”
“I don’t care.”
You fixed your shirt and attempted to smooth your hair.
Rafe watched you.
“You look guilty,” he said.
“You look worse.”
“Worth it.”
You started walking away.
“Hey,” he called.
You glanced back.
“Answer your phone this time.”
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
You dropped Sarah at Tannyhill shortly before two in the morning.
She spent the entire drive discussing Topper, unaware that your lips were swollen and your neck was hidden beneath your hair for a reason.
Once she disappeared inside, you drove home.
You were halfway through removing your earrings when your phone vibrated.
Rafe: Come over.
You stared at the message.
You: It’s two in the morning.
His answer appeared immediately.
Rafe: Didn’t ask what time it was.
You should have ignored him.
You had already taken things too far. Sarah had warned you only hours earlier. You had kissed her brother against his truck and lied directly into the phone when she asked who you were with.
Going to Tannyhill would make it intentional.
It would mean you could no longer blame vodka, curiosity, or Rafe’s inability to leave you alone.
You changed into shorts and a sweatshirt.
Then you climbed back into your car.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Rafe’s bedroom window was unlocked.
You pushed it open and climbed onto the sloped roof, moving carefully across the tiles.
Rafe appeared on the other side of the glass wearing gray sweatpants and no shirt.
He opened the window wider.
“You came.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I knew you would.”
“Then why say it like that?”
His hands closed around your waist as he helped you through.
The second your feet touched the bedroom floor, Rafe shut the window and kissed you.
There was no argument this time.
No pretending.
You wrapped your arms around his neck while he walked you backward toward the bed. His mouth tasted faintly of mint and alcohol, his hands sliding beneath your sweatshirt and over the bare skin of your back.
He pulled the sweatshirt over your head.
His gaze dropped.
You hadn't worn a bra.
“Jesus Christ.”
You smiled. “Problem?”
Rafe’s hands covered your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples.
Your breath hitched.
“No problem.”
He kissed you again, slower now, his palms kneading you as you pressed against him. You dragged your nails lightly down his chest, following the hard lines of muscle until your fingertips reached the waistband of his sweatpants.
Rafe caught your wrist.
“Wait.”
You looked up.
His expression had changed, the hunger still there but sharpened by something more serious.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t me convincing you.”
“I know.”
“Tell me.”
You stepped closer, placing his hand against your bare waist.
“I want you.”
The remaining restraint in his expression disappeared.
Rafe pushed you gently onto the bed.
He climbed over you, kissing your mouth before moving down your throat. His lips closed around one nipple while his hand worked over the other, rolling it between his fingers until you arched beneath him.
You bit down on your lip.
“Don’t,” he murmured against your skin.
“What?”
“Hide it.”
His mouth returned to your breast, tongue circling your nipple before he sucked it firmly between his lips.
A moan escaped you.
Rafe looked up.
The satisfaction on his face made you want to shove him away and pull him closer at the same time.
“Asshole.”
“Yet you're in my bed sweetheart.”
He kissed down your stomach.
His fingers hooked beneath the waistband of your shorts and underwear, waiting until you lifted your hips before pulling both down your legs.
The room suddenly felt too quiet.
Rafe’s eyes moved over you.
You resisted the urge to cover yourself.
He settled between your thighs, spreading them gently with his hands.
“Still want me to stop?”
“No.”
His mouth brushed the inside of your knee.
Then higher.
Each kiss moved closer until his breath warmed the most sensitive part of you.
When his tongue finally touched you, your hand flew to his hair.
Rafe held your thighs apart as he licked slowly through you. The first pass was almost teasing. The second made your hips lift from the mattress.
He pressed one forearm across your stomach, holding you in place.
“Rafe.”
His tongue circled your clit.
Your grip tightened in his hair.
He groaned against you, the vibration sending another pulse through your body. He continued until your breathing turned uneven, alternating between slow strokes and firm circles that made your thighs tremble around his shoulders.
You tried muffling yourself against your hand.
Rafe stopped.
You looked down.
He lifted his head, mouth shining.
“What did I say?”
“Your family is asleep.”
“Then be quiet because you can,” he said, kissing the inside of your thigh. “Not because you’re pretending you don’t like it.”
Before you could answer, he lowered his mouth again.
Two fingers slid into you as his tongue returned to your clit.
Your back arched.
The pleasure built quickly now, his fingers curling inside you while his mouth worked over you with an attention that felt almost cruel.
You whispered his name.
Rafe did not stop.
The tension snapped.
You came with your hand clamped over your mouth, thighs tightening around his head as waves of pleasure moved through you.
He continued until you pushed weakly at his shoulder.
Rafe climbed back over you.
His mouth covered yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
You pulled at his sweatpants.
He helped you shove them down, freeing himself. Your hand wrapped around his length, and Rafe broke the kiss with a sharp breath.
“You do that again,” he said, forehead against yours, “and this ends fast.”
You stroked him anyway.
His eyes closed.
“Maybe I want it to.”
“You’re gonna regret saying that.”
Rafe reached toward the bedside drawer and pulled out a condom.
You watched him tear the wrapper open and roll it on.
Then he settled between your thighs.
The teasing vanished from his face.
“You tell me if it hurts.”
You nodded.
“Say it.”
“I’ll tell you.”
He kissed you as he pushed inside.
The stretch made your breath catch. Rafe stopped immediately, one hand beside your head and the other holding your hip.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him deeper.
Rafe’s jaw tightened.
“Fuck.”
He gave you a moment before beginning to move.
The first thrusts were slow, controlled in a way you had never associated with him. You clung to his shoulders, adjusting to the fullness until the discomfort softened into something hotter.
“Faster,” you whispered.
Rafe looked at you.
“You sure?”
You lifted your hips to meet him.
That was all the answer he needed.
His pace changed.
The bed moved quietly beneath you as he drove into you, his hand sliding beneath your thigh to angle your hips. Each thrust pressed deeper, dragging sounds from you that you struggled to keep quiet.
Rafe buried his face against your neck.
His mouth moved over the mark he had left earlier, sucking another beneath it.
“You’re mine now,” he muttered.
You pulled his hair.
“That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“What deal?”
“Exactly.”
He bit your shoulder lightly.
You clenched around him.
Rafe groaned and pushed harder into you.
“Do that again.”
You did.
His hand slipped between your bodies, thumb finding your clit.
Pleasure tightened again, your body already sensitive from his mouth. Rafe watched your face as he touched you, keeping the same relentless rhythm until you could barely focus on anything besides him.
“I’m close,” you whispered.
“I know.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And again, you’re in my bed.”
His thumb pressed harder.
Your second orgasm hit more intensely than the first.
You buried your face against his shoulder, muffling your cry against his skin as your body tightened around him.
Rafe followed seconds later, his thrusts losing their rhythm before he stilled above you with a rough exhale.
For several moments, neither of you spoke.
Rafe lowered his weight carefully beside you.
You stared at the ceiling, breathing hard.
“Well,” you said.
He turned his head. “Well?”
“That was a terrible idea.”
Rafe laughed.
“You gonna pretend you regret that too?”
You looked at him.
His hair was a mess. Your lipstick was smeared across his mouth, and several red marks ran down his back where your nails had caught him.
“No,” you admitted.
His smile faded into something quieter.
More dangerous.
Because you had both just stopped pretending.
You had driven back to the house after Sarah warned you away. You had climbed through his window and chosen his bed over your best friend’s trust.
It was the first night you consciously chose Rafe Cameron over Sarah.
It would become a habit.
next
a/n: this chapter was too long so i had to split it into two but yaaay first chapter!!!!! hope u like it hehe
ok im posting a chapter 0 as a background on their relationship and how they got together !!! little snippets hehe thatll be out tmr and chapter 1 on thursday woohooooo
warnings: mdni, smut, mentions of abuse, murder and drinking
The watch was heavier than you expected.
You turned it over in your palm, watching the gold face catch the dim light spilling into Ward Cameron’s office. It was obnoxiously expensive, unnecessarily flashy, and exactly the kind of thing Ward would notice missing within hours.
Which made taking it even more tempting.
You slipped it into the back pocket of your shorts and quietly closed the drawer, making sure everything appeared untouched. Sarah was downstairs with the others, music echoing through Tannyhill as another party carried on without anyone noticing your absence.
Almost no one.
“You know, most people take jewelry from their boyfriend.”
Rafe’s voice came from behind you.
You froze for half a second before slowly turning around.
He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, a beer hanging loosely from one hand. There was no anger on his face; only amusement and something darker underneath it.
“You scared me,” you whispered.
“That guilty?”
“I’m not guilty.”
Rafe stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Right. You’re just standing alone in my dad’s office with your hands on his desk.”
“I was looking for something.”
His eyes dropped to your hands.
“Find it?”
You smiled innocently. “No.”
Rafe laughed beneath his breath as he walked toward you. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“And yet everyone believes me.”
“Everyone except me.”
He stopped directly in front of you, close enough that the scent of expensive alcohol and his cologne surrounded you. His fingers brushed against your hip before slipping into your pocket and pulling out the watch.
Rafe examined it, turning it over in his hand.
“Its Ward’s favorite,” he said.
“I have good taste.”
“You planning on selling it?”
“Maybe.”
“Keeping it?”
“Maybe.”
His mouth curved into a grin as he fastened the watch around your wrist. It hung loosely against your skin.
“You’re fucking insane,” he murmured.
“You like that about me.”
“I do.”
His fingers remained wrapped around your wrist as his gaze lifted to yours. Anyone else would have demanded an explanation. Sarah would have stared at you like she no longer knew who you were. Ward would have threatened to call the police.
Rafe only looked impressed.
“What else are you hiding from me?” he asked.
You tilted your head. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I thought I knew everything about you.”
“You know what I let you know.”
His grip tightened slightly, drawing you closer until your bodies nearly touched.
“That sounds like a challenge.”
“Maybe it is.”
He pulls you into a kiss and you both are just left staring at each other
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The party continued downstairs, filled with people who believed Sarah Cameron’s best friend was sweet, trustworthy, and entirely uninterested in her unstable older brother.
They had no idea you had been sneaking into his room for months.
They had no idea Rafe knew exactly how cruel you could be.
And they certainly had no idea that the missing watch would soon become the least dangerous secret the two of you shared.
Rafe leaned down, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth.
“Keep it,” he whispered. “I wanna see how long it takes him to notice.”
Sarah Cameron’s best friend has always been good at pretending she's harmless. Behind the expensive Kook parties, carefree boat days, and perfectly practiced smile is a girl with a talent for lying, stealing, and getting exactly what she wants.
Rafe Cameron is the only person who sees through her act; and instead of exposing her, he wants in.
What begins with silent touches, secret meetings, and reckless nights quickly turns into something far more dangerous when one of their schemes goes horribly wrong. With powerful people searching for them and no one left to trust, Rafe and Sarah’s supposedly innocent best friend are forced to run together.
No one on the island can understand how she could fall for the psychotic Kook everyone fears. What they fail to realize is that she may be even crazier than he is.
pairings: rafe cameron x fem!reader
content: fluff, angst, smut
warnings: mdni, smut, mentions of abuse, murder and drinking
heavily inspired by the tv show lucky!!
before season one:
prologue
stolen glances
secret kisses
season one:
after the storm
what we owe
what we hide
summary: you met him at a party and suddenly you felt seen
word count: 1k (shes short but theres more to come i swear)
warnings: angst, (no) comfort, not edited
a/n: got played in my face by a frat guy back in may so this is based on that LOL like i lived through this
part 1 | masterlist | part 2
walking into this frat party, already drunk and pretty hungry, you don't expect this night to really go anywhere.
flashing lights, jungle juice and beer spilt all over the house, the loud harsh noise of the edm music the dj is currently mixing, and last but not least the awful smell of bo.
all you had wanted to do was go home but your friends dragged you over here and you knew you weren't leaving any time soon.
"YO y/n is that you?" a deep voice had called out, completely startling you. "Suna? What the hell? Hi" he gives you that signature cat eye smirk - something sinister brewing behind his eyes "its a complete surprise seeing you here" "Ya well, what else would one do on a Saturday night?" you had replied with a giggle, but in reality had just wanted to sober up and go home. "wheres mina? is she here tonight?" "nahh you know her, staying in and doing her 'girl things' as she likes to call it" he awkwardly responded while scratching his head. Suna and his girlfriend have been rocky for a while, it never being more obvious than now. "Ah well I wish she was here, i dont really know anyone else here ahaha" and that evil look was back in his eyes, something that you feeling a little squirmy. "Well, I have the perfect person you can meet! Yo Atsumu get over here!"
Suddenly, a tall guy with the most aggressively bleached blond hair you'd ever seen appeared beside Suna. A blue pashmina was draped over his head and he was wearing sunglasses despite it being nearly midnight.
"Atsumu, meet y/n! we met during chem! anywho ill leave you two to it" he walks away in a hurry before you can really interrupt him, now stuck in a conversation with a someone you don't really know
"Well its nice to meet you y/n, how are you" he smugly asks you.
"I'm okay," you shrugged. "Just really hungry. Kinda need to sober up too."
Instead of offering you water or food, his eyes immediately drifted to the vape tucked into your top.
"Think I could get a hit of that?"
"Oh um my vape? sure its mango flavored" he hits it twice, stares at you and hits it again "Hm you have good taste y/n" and so as the awkward conversation continues, he eventually gets you that water and somehow a cig even gets shared. Its an uneventful conversation that really leads to nowhere. "Well Im gonna go find some friends but ill find you after ok yn?" "ya you have your fun doing that, ill be here" you timidly reply, as he walks away and you get whisked away into the dance floor.
Atsumu never ended up finding you again, though you did catch glimpses of him throughout the night.
At first, you'd asked Suna where he'd disappeared to, but he was absolutely no help.
As you grabbed another cup of water from the kitchen, you finally spotted him. He was standing beside one of his friends and, more noticeably, a girl.
Your eyebrows immediately raised.
Well, that answered that.
Any thought of walking over and saying hi vanished before it could fully form.
Still, your eyes lingered for a second too long.
Maybe if he looked over-
Before you could build up the courage to make eye contact, let alone walk over, a familiar voice suddenly shrieked behind you.
"YNNIEEEEE!"
You nearly jumped out of your skin.
Turning around, you found Kiyoko swaying slightly, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glassy from alcohol.
"Our Uber's here," she slurred excitedly. "We're gonna get foooood."
Before you could get a word in, she had already hooked her arm through yours and was dragging you toward the front door.
You cast one last glance toward the kitchen.
Atsumu hadn't looked up once.
Then Kiyoko nearly tripped over her own feet, and just like that, your attention was elsewhere.
Halfway through your burger, you looked up and nearly choked.
Atsumu had just walked in. Of course he had.
He was surrounded by a few friends, and right beside him was the same girl from earlier. Hana, you thought her name was. As if the universe wasn't done tormenting you, they ended up sliding into the booth directly across from yours.
You froze mid-bite.
His stupid sunglasses were somehow still on, making it impossible to tell where he was looking.
Not that you cared. Obviously.
With a heavy sigh, you dropped your gaze back to your food and focused on finishing your burger as quickly as possible. There was absolutely no reason for your stomach to twist every time Hana laughed at something he said.
You'd known the guy for, what, thirty minutes? An hour, tops.
It wasn't like you had a crush on him.
Still... As you stole one final glance toward their booth, a tiny, embarrassing part of you wished it was you sitting beside him instead.
Its monday night and you cant really get yourself to fall asleep.
Its currently 12:32 am, your roommate isnt home and you have to be up at 10am tommorow.
as you put your phone down, you hear a buzz
atsumumiya followed you on instagram!
Your eyebrows immediately shoot up. Well. That was unexpected.
You stare at the notification for a moment before clicking on his profile. After letting him sit as a follower for a solid fifteen minutes, purely out of principle, you follow him back.
Almost immediately, your phone buzzes again.
A DM.
From Atsumu.
mb i was looking for you after the party
Looking for you? That was funny considering you'd seen him twice after he'd disappeared. Both times with Hana.
ahaha ur good! dw abt it
Ok good i felt bad
lmk if theres anyway i can make it up to you
You stare at the message.
A smile threatens to creep onto your face.
No. Absolutely not.
You were not about to start giggling over a guy you'd met two days ago. Locking your phone, you toss it onto your nightstand before you can overthink the conversation any further.
Whatever. That was tomorrow's problem. Tonight, you needed sleep.
summary: you met him at a party and suddenly you felt seen
word count: 1k (shes short but theres more to come i swear)
warnings: angst, (no) comfort, not edited
a/n: got played in my face by a frat guy back in may so this is based on that LOL like i lived through this
part 1 | masterlist | part 2
walking into this frat party, already drunk and pretty hungry, you don't expect this night to really go anywhere.
flashing lights, jungle juice and beer spilt all over the house, the loud harsh noise of the edm music the dj is currently mixing, and last but not least the awful smell of bo.
all you had wanted to do was go home but your friends dragged you over here and you knew you weren't leaving any time soon.
"YO y/n is that you?" a deep voice had called out, completely startling you. "Suna? What the hell? Hi" he gives you that signature cat eye smirk - something sinister brewing behind his eyes "its a complete surprise seeing you here" "Ya well, what else would one do on a Saturday night?" you had replied with a giggle, but in reality had just wanted to sober up and go home. "wheres mina? is she here tonight?" "nahh you know her, staying in and doing her 'girl things' as she likes to call it" he awkwardly responded while scratching his head. Suna and his girlfriend have been rocky for a while, it never being more obvious than now. "Ah well I wish she was here, i dont really know anyone else here ahaha" and that evil look was back in his eyes, something that you feeling a little squirmy. "Well, I have the perfect person you can meet! Yo Atsumu get over here!"
Suddenly, a tall guy with the most aggressively bleached blond hair you'd ever seen appeared beside Suna. A blue pashmina was draped over his head and he was wearing sunglasses despite it being nearly midnight.
"Atsumu, meet y/n! we met during chem! anywho ill leave you two to it" he walks away in a hurry before you can really interrupt him, now stuck in a conversation with a someone you don't really know
"Well its nice to meet you y/n, how are you" he smugly asks you.
"I'm okay," you shrugged. "Just really hungry. Kinda need to sober up too."
Instead of offering you water or food, his eyes immediately drifted to the vape tucked into your top.
"Think I could get a hit of that?"
"Oh um my vape? sure its mango flavored" he hits it twice, stares at you and hits it again "Hm you have good taste y/n" and so as the awkward conversation continues, he eventually gets you that water and somehow a cig even gets shared. Its an uneventful conversation that really leads to nowhere. "Well Im gonna go find some friends but ill find you after ok yn?" "ya you have your fun doing that, ill be here" you timidly reply, as he walks away and you get whisked away into the dance floor.
Atsumu never ended up finding you again, though you did catch glimpses of him throughout the night.
At first, you'd asked Suna where he'd disappeared to, but he was absolutely no help.
As you grabbed another cup of water from the kitchen, you finally spotted him. He was standing beside one of his friends and, more noticeably, a girl.
Your eyebrows immediately raised.
Well, that answered that.
Any thought of walking over and saying hi vanished before it could fully form.
Still, your eyes lingered for a second too long.
Maybe if he looked over-
Before you could build up the courage to make eye contact, let alone walk over, a familiar voice suddenly shrieked behind you.
"YNNIEEEEE!"
You nearly jumped out of your skin.
Turning around, you found Kiyoko swaying slightly, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glassy from alcohol.
"Our Uber's here," she slurred excitedly. "We're gonna get foooood."
Before you could get a word in, she had already hooked her arm through yours and was dragging you toward the front door.
You cast one last glance toward the kitchen.
Atsumu hadn't looked up once.
Then Kiyoko nearly tripped over her own feet, and just like that, your attention was elsewhere.
Halfway through your burger, you looked up and nearly choked.
Atsumu had just walked in. Of course he had.
He was surrounded by a few friends, and right beside him was the same girl from earlier. Hana, you thought her name was. As if the universe wasn't done tormenting you, they ended up sliding into the booth directly across from yours.
You froze mid-bite.
His stupid sunglasses were somehow still on, making it impossible to tell where he was looking.
Not that you cared. Obviously.
With a heavy sigh, you dropped your gaze back to your food and focused on finishing your burger as quickly as possible. There was absolutely no reason for your stomach to twist every time Hana laughed at something he said.
You'd known the guy for, what, thirty minutes? An hour, tops.
It wasn't like you had a crush on him.
Still... As you stole one final glance toward their booth, a tiny, embarrassing part of you wished it was you sitting beside him instead.
Its monday night and you cant really get yourself to fall asleep.
Its currently 12:32 am, your roommate isnt home and you have to be up at 10am tommorow.
as you put your phone down, you hear a buzz
atsumumiya followed you on instagram!
Your eyebrows immediately shoot up. Well. That was unexpected.
You stare at the notification for a moment before clicking on his profile. After letting him sit as a follower for a solid fifteen minutes, purely out of principle, you follow him back.
Almost immediately, your phone buzzes again.
A DM.
From Atsumu.
mb i was looking for you after the party
Looking for you? That was funny considering you'd seen him twice after he'd disappeared. Both times with Hana.
ahaha ur good! dw abt it
Ok good i felt bad
lmk if theres anyway i can make it up to you
You stare at the message.
A smile threatens to creep onto your face.
No. Absolutely not.
You were not about to start giggling over a guy you'd met two days ago. Locking your phone, you toss it onto your nightstand before you can overthink the conversation any further.
Whatever. That was tomorrow's problem. Tonight, you needed sleep.
The primary reason Lorelai prefers Dean to Rory's other boyfriends (to the point where it seems that Lorelai is enjoying the relationship far more than Rory is) is because Dean is so controlling and demands that Rory spend every waking moment with him, to the point where she doesn't have time for any outside interests or friends. Rory can't be swayed by the rich kids at Chilton or their hard-partying lifestyle that got Lorelai in trouble if Dean monopolizes all her time (the only person she socializes with there is Paris, another outcast). Her only real friend at Stars Hollow High is Lane, another sheltered only child with a highly constricted social life. Rory is constantly negotiating with Dean to get him to go to events, because he doesn't want her to go alone or to spend time with other people. Much of their time is spent just hanging out with Lorelai, with Dean as a sidekick to Rory and Lorelai's domestic routines. Dean keeps Rory's world small, tied to Lorelai and Stars Hollow, with no room to contemplate life outside of the bubble that Lorelai created. He heavily micromanages Rory's social life and Lorelai likes that, to the point where she is constantly encouraging Rory to not do anything to upset him, to anticipate his wrath, to forget about her attraction to Jess who she tells her doesn't really like her because he moved onto Shane when Rory wouldn't take him seriously as an option. She needs to stay with Dean to make Lorelai happy, because Rory (unwisely) views her as having better judgment in romantic matters and she wants to please her mom.
Jess is a threat because he reminds Lorelai of the person she was when she was a teenager, wild and rebellious and itching to escape from the life she didn't want. Jess is not made for Stars Hollow: he represents all of the art and the literature and the worldly adventures that Rory dreams of experiencing someday. He's a force that's going to pull her away, and Rory is sexually and intellectually attracted to him, having outgrown the safety of her tightly controlled relationship with her dimwitted beanpole of a boyfriend. Jess doesn't want to be part of Stars Hollow life, he wants his time with Rory to be with her only, and if she wants to do the cheesy town stuff that's cool with him because he doesn't seek to control her every waking moment. He can have his interests and she can have hers and their time alone can belong to them and both Lorelai and Rory...have a hard time adjusting to this. There's definitely some middle ground to be had here, but Jess doesn't want to do what Stars Hollow expects him to do because they hate him anyway and I'm pretty sure Rory was his first serious girlfriend, so he was out of his depth even if he wanted to conform...and he was too emotionally damaged to be much good to anyone at that point anyway. That said, Rory does seem to make an effort to socialize the most among the Stars Hollow crew while they are together and do her own Chilton stuff, so maybe it was in her best interest not to be tied to someone who insisted on controlling every single thing she did.
Logan is a mixed bag, because prior to getting involved with him Rory was alone for an entire year and hated it. She struggles at the paper, doesn't make any real friends at Yale except for Marty, comes home every weekend, and eventually gets involved with Dean again because she wants to relive her youth before realizing they actually don't have anything in common. She's sucked in by Logan's lifestyle and his hard-partying ways but she hasn't really let herself be involved in this kind of thing before, so she enjoys it until she doesn't. Logan doesn't actively seek to control her, she's always there by choice, and he never tells her she can't hang out with other people or do things on her own...but she still gets subsumed by him because it's what her primary experience of being a girlfriend is. When Jess goes to find her in Hartford, she has no idea of what to do in the city because even though she's lived there for six months, she still defaults to doing what her boyfriend wants to do.
I think this does get better in the seventh season, because she did gain a little bit of independence after she got back together with Logan, but also because he's elsewhere, his entire supporting cast of characters isn't around, and she's forced to make friends on her own and deal with things that don't revolve around her significant other. (Also, their relationship is relatively stable, so even though there is tension with Marty and Lucy, it's not really an insurmountable obstacle). She seems to have learned by that point it's okay to argue with your partner and not have it be the end of the world and to have parts of your life that don't revolve around him, either.
Of course, that is not ASP, even if it was something that needed to happen. It seems that the patterns set up early with Dean and Lorelai controlled Rory's life for a long time and negatively influenced how she interacted with the other guys. Remove AYITL from the equation (yes, please) and it puts Rory in a position to reconcile with Jess on the campaign trail or afterwards, because she's finally able to entertain the thought of maintaining an independent existence while being part of a couple.
summary: navigating the transition into adulthood, reflecting on the past and contemplating the future as you approach your 19th birthday.
word count: 2k
warnings: chan and reader are childhood friends, growing up :[ life
a/n: abeoji means dad
series masterlist
masterlist | requests
As your 19th birthday approaches, a cloud of anxiety hangs over you, making what should be a joyous occasion feel heavy with uncertainty.
You can’t shake the growing sense of dread and anticipation that accompanies this milestone.
The transition into adulthood looms before you, and the pressure to make significant decisions—about college, career, and your future—feels almost suffocating.
The city around you continues its usual hustle and bustle, but everything seems amplified. The familiar streets and favorite hangouts now feel like unfamiliar terrain, mirroring your own feelings of uncertainty. Each day that passes intensifies your sense of urgency, the weight of expectations pressing heavily on your shoulders. It’s as if the world is demanding you to have everything figured out, and the thought of meeting these expectations only adds to your mounting stress.
In the midst of this turmoil, Chan is a constant, calming presence. His support is like a lighthouse in your stormy sea of worries. You find solace in your time together, whether it’s sharing a quiet moment in a cozy cafe or strolling through the park. Chan’s calm demeanor and unwavering support provide a rare sense of stability in your life. His presence becomes a comforting reminder that you don’t have to navigate this transition alone.
When you voice your fears and uncertainties, Chan listens with patience and genuine concern. His small gestures—like bringing you your favorite coffee or simply being there when you need to talk—mean more than you can express. He doesn’t try to solve your problems but offers a steady, reassuring presence that helps to counterbalance your growing anxiety. His optimism and calmness serve as a soothing balm, helping you to find a glimmer of hope amidst your worries.
The future feels like an expansive, uncharted territory, and you find it difficult to reconcile your own desires with the pressure to conform to others' expectations.
—
Feeling nostalgic is normal as you get older
You've been feeling like that a lot recently
you find yourself drawn to the dusty boxes of keepsakes tucked away in your closet. Curiosity spikes as you begin to sift through the memories stored within: childhood drawings, old letters, and faded photographs.
Each item holds a piece of your past, a captured shot of moments shared with Chan.
The first box you open contains your childhood drawings—crayon scribbles and stick figures that seem both simplistic and profoundly meaningful now. You laugh softly at the crude illustrations, some of which feature you and Chan in various imaginative adventures.
You remember the afternoons spent drawing together, your laughter filling the room as you exchanged ideas and created fantastical worlds. The memories come flooding back, vivid and warm, reminding you of the ease with which your friendship began.
Next, you find a stack of old letters, neatly folded and tied with ribbon. As you untie them, the handwriting brings back a flood of emotions. Each letter is filled with shared secrets, dreams, and promises made in the innocence of youth. You recall the excitement of receiving these notes, the thrill of writing back, and the bond that deepened with every exchange.
The photographs are the final treasure in the box. They capture moments of joy and simplicity—birthday parties, school events, and spontaneous outings. In each image, you and Chan are captured in candid moments of laughter and affection. As you flip through the photos, you see how your friendship has grown and changed. From the innocent play of childhood to the more complex dynamics of adolescence, the images reflect the journey you’ve shared.
With each keepsake, you begin to see Chan’s prominent role in your life more clearly. The playful moments and shared secrets have woven a tapestry of memories that reveal the depth of your friendship.
You realize how much Chan has been there for you, not just as a friend but as someone who has been a constant source of support and joy. This realization hits you with a new intensity—Chan is not just a part of your past but an essential piece of your present and future. Someone you want to spend the rest of your life with.
As you reflect on these memories, you start to understand the true significance of your feelings. The warmth that fills your heart when you think of Chan is more than just friendship.
It’s love.
The realization dawns that your feelings for Chan have changed, and that they arent so innocent anymore.
—
You first notice it when chan says that he ‘likes the way your skirt looks on you’
Who says that?
Whenever you speak to chan its like theres an unspoken tension.
There’s a playful, flirtatious edge to his remarks that wasn’t there before. He teases you with a twinkle in his eye, his compliments lingering a little longer than usual. His gaze, which once seemed casual and friendly, now carries a depth that makes your heart race. The simple gestures—a touch on your arm, a lingering look—seem to carry more weight, making you question the nature of your feelings.
Chan’s unwavering support is a stark contrast to your growing uncertainties. He continues to be a rock for you, offering comfort and a listening ear as you navigate the pressures of your upcoming adulthood. His ability to remain positive and reassuring helps to ground you in the midst of your self-doubt.
Yet, as he provides this support, his presence also highlights your own internal conflict. You begin to see how much you rely on him not just as a friend but as someone who might mean more to you than you previously acknowledged.
You find yourself analyzing every interaction, every glance, and every touch, trying to decipher if there’s something more beneath the surface.
The lines between friendship and something deeper become increasingly blurred. Chan’s seemingly casual flirting feels like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit, leaving you to wonder if your emotions are reciprocated. Is it just a joke to him?
Chan’s flirtation often goes unnoticed by you, hidden in the guise of casual banter. His comments, while seemingly harmless, carry a weight that you only start to recognize in hindsight.
He makes jokes about your future together, lightly touches your hand during laughter, and gives you lingering looks that make your heart flutter. To you, these moments seem like innocent fun, but to Chan, they’re expressions of a deeper affection that he’s been careful not to fully reveal.
You both seem to be caught in a web of unspoken affection, where neither of you quite understands the full extent of your feelings for each other.
The confusion about whether your relationship is purely friendship or something more starts to weigh heavily on you. As you navigate these complex emotions, you find yourself torn between the comfort of your established friendship and the possibility of something deeper. The fear of jeopardizing what you have with Chan contrasts with the longing to explore the potential of a deeper connection. The growing tension and mutual, unacknowledged affection create a charged atmosphere, making every interaction feel like a delicate balancing act between maintaining the status quo and embracing the possibility of something new.
—
the weight of future decisions begins to press heavily on you. The pressure of what you want to do with your life looms large, casting long shadows over your daily life.
The uncertainty of what lies ahead fills you with apprehension, and you struggle with the fear of making the wrong choices that could shape your future.
You just don't know what to do with your life.
You pore over brochures, attend informational meetings, and weigh the pros and cons of different programs, each decision feeling like a monumental step into the unknown. The fear of failure nags at you, a constant companion that questions your abilities and choices. You worry about living up to expectations—both your own and those of others—and the potential repercussions of missteps.
Throughout this tumultuous period, Chan remains a steadfast source of encouragement and support.
His unwavering belief in you becomes a comforting thought. He listens patiently to your fears and offers practical advice, helping you navigate the labyrinth of choices with a calm and steady demeanor.
Whether it’s reviewing your college essays, discussing future vacations, or simply offering a reassuring word, Chan’s presence is a comforting constant in the face of your uncertainty.
He helps you see your strengths and achievements in a new light, reminding you of your capabilities and potential.
His encouragement helps to shift your perspective, making the daunting task of applications feel more manageable.
He’s just always there for you, and you want to be there for him.
You have so much love for him, it's unbearable.
—
Today you're 19.
The night is calm, the air crisp, and the sky a deep, velvety blue, dotted with constellations that seem to echo the emotions swirling within you both.
Chan is with you, as always.
You’ve chosen this quiet moment to reflect, and it feels as if the universe itself is holding its breath, waiting for what’s to come.
Sitting side by side on a blanket spread out on the grass, you both gaze up at the stars. The silence between you is filled with unspoken words and a palpable sense of anticipation.
Chan's hand brushes against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. His presence feels comforting yet electric, as if something is about to shift irrevocably.
Chan turns to you, his expression serious but gentle. "Y/N," he begins, his voice soft and hesitant, "there’s something I need to tell you." His eyes search yours, and you can see the vulnerability behind his words. "I’ve been trying to find the right moment, but... I love you, I've been in love with you for most of my life."
Your heart skips a beat as you realize the weight of his words. The sincerity in his eyes is both overwhelming and reassuring. You take a deep breath, feeling the lump in your throat. "I love you too," you admit, your voice trembling slightly. "I didn’t realize it until recently, but...I really am In love with you, I think I always was."
Tears well up in your eyes as you both share a look of profound understanding. The confession, while bittersweet, feels like a release—a moment of clarity amidst the complexity of your emotions. Chan’s hand finds yours, squeezing it gently. "I want to live life with you, travel the world, get married, all with you," he says, his voice breaking with emotion.
The weight of the moment feels almost tangible as you lean closer. Chan brushes a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb, his touch tender and affectionate. "I’ll always be here with you," he promises, his voice a whisper in the night air. His lips meet yours in a kiss that is both tender and passionate, filled with the depth of all the feelings you’ve kept hidden. The kiss is a sweet release, a promise of something more that has been long overdue.
The tears that flow are a mix of joy and relief, your hearts laid bare under the starlit sky. The realization of your feelings and the significance of your relationship crystallize in this intimate moment. You both laugh through your tears, the sound mingling with the quiet night.
As you pull away, your eyes meet, and the smile on Chan’s face reflects your own happiness.
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