𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 | 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

０２３．

In the best way possible, Rafe hadn't felt like himself lately.

It'd been four weeks since his father had left him alone to deal with a dead body. Four weeks since Ren had made that offer to him, the one that meant so much but also nothing at all. Four weeks spent at her side, living together and working together like an old married couple.

He had realized quickly that he was good at his job. And he'd always known that he would be, that he'd inherited the infamous Cameron charm, that he could convince just about anyone that they wanted to buy coke and they wanted to buy it from him. But he was better than he had expected. He was good at his job. Good enough that he'd outsold Ren on more than one occasion.

And that was an achievement in itself, because in spite of all of her best efforts to appear cold and unfriendly and closed off, people were just drawn to Ren. They wanted to talk to her, they wanted to be around her, they wanted to buy from her. Women and men alike came to the club and beelined for Ren, who offered them that contagious smile of hers and handed them their drugs.

Rafe couldn't believe that she was his.

Not that they'd made anything official, or even ever would, but there was no denying that they were together, in some sense of the word. Ever since he'd made that decision to abandon his father, to stay on the mainland with Ren, they had been inseparable. Rafe wasn't sure when or how things had become so much more than just sex, but he was pretty confident that he was in love with her.

And didn't know if it was being with her, or if it was just being away from his father, but Rafe hadn't felt like himself. He'd felt alarmingly stable-- none of the anxiety, none of the anger or the violence, none of the coke cravings. He was scared to admit it to himself, to say out loud, but Rafe might have even been happy.

But in spite of all the good shit that was happening to him, in spite of the fact that he might have been happy, Rafe kept finding himself waiting on the other shoe to drop.

He couldn't remember the last time things had been so good. He didn't trust it. Especially not with the knowledge that his father was still out there, just a short boat's drive away, and that he would not allow another member of his family to disappear so easily. Even if Rafe wasn't Sarah, he was certain that his father was looking for him.

And as he followed Ren through town, watching as she mindlessly grocery shopped and helping where he could, Rafe realized that he never wanted his father to find him. Ever.

Maybe he finally understood why Sarah had done all the stupid shit she'd done for John B.

Scratch that -- Rafe definitely understood why Sarah had done all of the stupid shit she'd done, because he knew that this wasn't permanent, and he knew that he should have just kept it to himself, but he watched Ren wander through the grocery store and he was positive he loved her and he didn't know why, but he needed to tell her.

"Hey, Ren?" He said cautiously as she eyed the cereal selection.

"Mhm?"

Rafe swallowed hard, wringing his hands nervously as he said, "I love you," before quickly adding a careful, "I think."

She took on an alarming stillness, her gaze still fixed ahead of her. "Right," Ren said slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly, "you love me, or you think you love me?" Her voice remained even, betraying no more than her carefully neutral expression.

Rafe thought he might vomit. "I love you. I'm in love with you."

For a few seconds too long, Ren remained completely still. She turned that pale gaze to Rafe as she slowly set down her grocery basket. And then she was smiling, broad and unfaltering, and she was grabbing him by the hand and dragging him out of the market. The second they were outside, warmed by the golden sunlight of a fading Sainte-Anne afternoon, she flung her arms around his shoulders and kissed him.