Liar. Cheater. Trash. You’d heard it all. The Outer Banks had practically brandished you with a large Scarlett letter on your chest. Everywhere you went the whispers followed you. You’d enter a room and everything would go quiet, and you knew they were gossiping about you. Sharing the stories they’d heard and creating their version of the truth. You’d grown accustomed to the dirty looks. You tried to let it all roll off of you when you were out. You didn’t want them to know that they’d gotten to you.

It was a complete fall from grace. You’d been the Kook princess. Everyone had wanted to be with you or be you. They had all wanted a piece of you. As if being in your presence would rub off on them. And now, well now it was the total opposite. They avoided you like you had a disease that they might catch.

And maybe it should bother you more that most of the ire was directed towards you than at Rafe. You were taking the brunt of the accusations, you were the one completely cut off from all your so called friends. But Rafe had always been someone that was feared, so you assumed they wouldn’t dare direct those kind of comments his way. And you wouldn’t have wanted them to anyways.

Because even in your darkest moments, when you came home and let all the hurt and anger out, you wouldn’t take back what you’d done. And you knew that in itself was a horrible thought. But you believed that things happened for a reason. Things fell apart so something stronger, better can come together.

Should you have ended things with Topper the second you had feelings for Rafe? Probably. Should you have been stronger and said fuck what other people thought sooner? Probably. Should you have known to not let it go as far as it did? Probably. But there were three sides to every story- your version, their version and the truth. And there had been a lot of things about your relationship with Topper that had led to its demise. So people could call it what they wanted, you knew the truth.

You rise up from your blanket fort on the sofa when you hear a car pull up in the driveway. You sigh, hoping it’s not someone there to throw eggs again. You sneak a peak out the window and let out a sigh of relief when you see Rafe climbing out of his truck and striding towards your door. Your fingers absentmindedly stroke the ‘R’ charm you wore on a chain around your neck, a recent gift from him.

Rafe knocks softly on the door, and you rub away the tear stains on your cheek, hoping he won’t notice them or your puffy eyes. You paste a smile on your face and swing the door open.

“Baby” he says gruffly, his eyes roaming over your face, clocking the fact that you’d been crying immediately.