ᯓ★ Rafe Cameron getting kicked out of Tannyhill should’ve shocked you more than it did.

But honestly?

You’d been waiting for it.

Because there was only so many times someone could scream at Ward Cameron, disappear for days, owe Barry money, and come home high before things finally exploded.

Apparently stealing one of Ward’s watches to pay Barry had been the final straw.

⋆˙⟡ —

Your parents were gone in the Bahamas for the summer.

Three whole months.

Which normally would’ve meant freedom. Pool parties. Friends over constantly.

Instead—

your boyfriend showed up at your door at one in the morning with a duffel bag, blood dried near his knuckles, and nowhere else to go.

⋆˙⟡ —

“Ward kicked me out,” Rafe muttered like it annoyed him more than hurt him.

You stared at him for a second.

Then quietly:

“What happened to your face?”

Rafe shrugged carelessly.

“Barry happened.”

Perfect.

⋆˙⟡ —

At first, it almost felt fun.

Like playing house.

Rafe walking around shirtless through your kitchen. Sleeping in your bed every night. His clothes thrown everywhere like he already lived there permanently.

But after a week—

things started getting bad again.

⋆˙⟡ —

The mood swings. The random anger. The constant smoking.

And worst of all—

the disappearing acts.

Rafe would vanish onto your balcony for hours at night with music playing quietly through his phone while you pretended not to notice how red his eyes looked lately.

You knew what spiraling looked like on him.

And unfortunately—

Rafe Cameron spiraled beautifully.

Quietly. Slowly. Like watching a house burn from far away.

⋆˙⟡ —

That night, you woke up around two in the morning and realized his side of the bed was cold.

The balcony door stood cracked open.

Music hummed faintly outside.

Your stomach tightened instantly.

⋆˙⟡ —

You slid the door open carefully.

And froze.

Beer bottles cluttered the balcony table. Cigarette ash covered the glass. A half-empty vodka bottle sat tipped sideways beside several rolled bills.

And right beside Rafe’s hand—

small white lines spread neatly across your table.

Your chest dropped instantly.

“Rafe.”

He looked up lazily from the chair, clearly already high.

“Oh.” A crooked grin tugged at his mouth. “Hey, baby.”

The second he noticed where your eyes landed, he casually flipped over the magazine beside him—

girls in bikinis disappearing face-down against the table.

Like that somehow helped.

⋆˙⟡ —

“Seriously?” your voice came out quieter than expected.

Rafe put his cigarette out slowly before leaning back in the chair.

“What?”

“You’re doing coke on my balcony.”

“Well when you say it all judgmental like that—”

“Rafe.”

He sighed dramatically, rubbing his jaw.

“You’re bein’ intense right now.”

“You have drugs in my house.”

“Our house,” he corrected automatically.

You stared at him in disbelief.

Rafe smirked faintly like he’d said something funny.