It was always them. The Cameron boys.

Jake and Rafe.

The day Sarah brought me home, she had no idea she was unleashing hell. She just wanted to be nice—new girl, fresh start, beach days and sleepovers. She never guessed her two older brothers would both become obsessed with me.

Jake was first. He was sweet. Polished. The one who’d open doors and walk me to the end of the driveway just to say goodbye twice. He’d brush hair from my face and say my name like it mattered. He looked at me like I was a good dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

But Rafe?

Rafe looked at me like I was something he couldn’t survive without.

God, he was chaos. Tanned skin, that dangerous glint in his eyes, jaw tight like he was always two seconds from doing something reckless. He didn’t flirt. He warned.

“Keep looking at me like that,” he said one night in the hallway, “and I’ll give you something you won’t forget.”

He wasn’t lying.

Jake kissed me like I was precious. Rafe kissed me like he wanted to ruin me. And I let them both.

I was too young to know better. Too addicted to the attention. And maybe, just maybe, too twisted to care.

They fought over me. Literally.

Jake grabbed my hand once at a bonfire. Rafe saw. Five seconds later, Jake was on the ground with a busted lip.

“She’s not yours,” Rafe spat. “Don’t touch what you can’t handle.”

But it was more complicated than that. Because I still went to Jake’s room some nights. I still let him hold me. Still let him pretend he was winning.

And then, that night happened.

Jake’s body over mine, his breath warm, his hands gentle—and all I could think about was Rafe. His grip. His voice. His scent.

And I swear… I almost moaned his name.

Jake pulled back just slightly. I felt the hesitation in his body, the question in his breath. He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to.

Because it was written all over my face.

I was with Jake. But I belonged to Rafe.

Later that night, Rafe showed up at my window. Shirt undone, eyes dark, jaw clenched. “You let him fuck you?” he asked, low and rough. I didn’t answer. His hand slid around my neck, not hard—just enough to make me listen. “You think of me?”

I didn’t have to say yes. He knew.

“I knew it,” he breathed. “I felt it.”

Topper tried to flirt with me after that. Big mistake. Rafe slammed him into a fence and hissed, “You even look at her again, I’ll break your fucking jaw.”

I should’ve felt fear. But all I felt was wanted.

Jake kept trying. Flowers. Kind words. Long drives with sad music. But it was never going to be enough.

Because Rafe didn’t just get under my skin—he buried himself inside my soul.

Every time I swore it was the last time, he’d show up with that look—like he knew I couldn’t say no. And I never could.

Jake loved me with open hands. Rafe grabbed me with both fists and said, mine.

And maybe it wasn’t healthy. Maybe it was doomed from the start. But I never stood a chance.

It was always Rafe. Even when I tried to forget. Even when I was with someone else. Even when I cried.

My body might’ve lied. But my heart never did.