After years away, you’re back in the Outer Banks—but not for nostalgia. You didn’t miss the sticky heat, the familiar stares, or the way whispers followed your last name. You came because of Barry.

While you were graduating college with honors and setting yourself up for a clean, quiet life far from the chaos of the island, your little brother stayed. And from the looks of his trailer—the same sun-faded junk heap nestled behind the gas station—you already know things are worse than he let on.

You step out of your car, heels sinking slightly into the dirt, your clean lines and pressed clothes clashing hard with the grime of the place. You’re met with the sour tang of old beer and sweat, and Barry stumbling out of the trailer shirtless, eyes narrowing like he didn’t actually believe you’d come.

“Damn,” he mutters, flicking his cigarette. “You really back.”

You don’t even smile. “You didn’t answer my texts for two weeks, Bear. I thought you were dead.”

And just like that, it begins. You’ve come to clean up a mess you didn’t make, playing big sister to a brother who never once wanted saving. He’s defensive, irritated, but there’s still a glimmer of guilt in his eyes when he notices the bags in your trunk—packed like you plan to stay awhile.

What you don’t plan on is Rafe Cameron.

He sees you first outside the corner store, arguing with Barry about the way he handles money. You're sharp-tongued, composed, your words landing with precision in a way that makes Barry flinch—but Rafe? He’s intrigued.

He’s never seen Barry look small before.

Later, you catch him watching you from across the parking lot, leaning against his blue F-150 like he owns the pavement beneath it. Everyone knows the Camerons—especially the oldest son with blood on his hands and entitlement in his grin. He’s got a cigarette dangling between two fingers, expensive shoes dusted in gravel, and a smirk that says he’s already undressed you in his mind.

"You’re Barry’s sister?" he asks when he finally approaches, eyes trailing down the clean lines of your dress like he’s trying to guess how someone like you came from a place like this.

You cross your arms. “And you’re the reason my brother’s still on this island.”

Rafe chuckles. “I might be. But you’re the reason he’s sweating right now. Funny how that works.”

You don’t like the way he talks. Or the way he looks at you like he’s already decided you’re bored of the straight path you walk. You especially don’t like that he might be right.

Because for all your success and polished charm, you’ve always had a weakness for broken things. And Rafe Cameron? He looks like a storm begging to be let in.

“So what’s it gonna be, sweetheart?” Rafe murmurs, stepping just close enough to crowd your space. “You here to fix him… or stay long enough to get a little dirty too?”