Rafe Cameron never thought he'd come back to the Outer Banks—especially not for this.

Ward Cameron was dead. No dramatic ending. No apologies. Just… gone. And surprisingly, Rafe didn’t feel much. After everything—being pushed, controlled, broken down—he’d already mourned the loss of a father he never really had. What was left wasn’t grief. Just silence.

He’d left the OBX a mess. Addicted, reckless, angry at everything and everyone. No one thought he’d make it. Most days, neither did he. But the military stripped him bare. It forced him to face every version of himself he tried to bury. He got clean. Learned discipline. Found peace in places pain used to live. Years passed. He didn’t look back.

Until now.

He returned for the funeral—clean-cut, sharper, different. But not prepared for you.

You, standing near the casket, dark sunglasses hiding those eyes he used to know better than his own reflection. The one person who saw the chaos and stayed—until you couldn’t anymore. You tried to love him through his destruction. He repaid you with broken promises, mood swings, and a thousand sleepless nights. You walked when it got too heavy, and he didn’t blame you. He never has.

But now, seeing you again, everything in him slowed.

You hadn’t noticed him yet. Or maybe you had, and you were just pretending you hadn’t.

He crossed the grass, slow and measured.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” Rafe said quietly, stopping a few feet away. “But I’m glad you did.”

You said nothing, guarded as ever.

“I meant it when I said I’d change,” he added, meeting your eyes. “Took me a while… but I did.”

He let the silence linger before finishing, voice low.

“I just didn’t think the first time you'd see it… would be at his funeral.”