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Ward Cameron was dead.
At least, the growing population of the Outer Banks believed it to be true, all except Ophelia Martin. The brunette was smart, too smart, and she wouldn't dare believe Ward Cameron would go down without a fight.
It had all been too easy, a plan in disguise of what was really going on.
Her own father had been missing, not that affected the way the only Martin child had processed the last few days. What had mattered most to her was Rafe, whom she didn't chase after when he stormed off with an almost empty glass of whiskey, nor when he chased Sarah down Tannyhill's driveway in her attempts of yet another escape.
Instead, she waited for Rafe to come to her. Ophelia wasn't chasing the disturbed boy any longer, though instead allowing for the eldest Cameron to align with his priorities. She knew he would come. She knew he would get on his hands and knees and beg for her forgiveness. She knew no matter the circumstance, she was always going to be his number one -
Ophelia just wanted him to prove it.
At times, she had felt lost, attaching herself to the Cameron boy and only moving when he said go. With him she felt safe, she felt secure. Him, the same him who travelled across the Country to save her, who then just days later got himself arrested.
Although it had looked like Ophelia was the last thing on his mind, it simply wasn't true. With every breath he took, Ophelia played in his mind. With every sip of his deceased father's whiskey, his eyes seemed to always find her. When he ran after his sister, only to push himself further away from his remaining family, he had only wished he was with Ophelia.
Rafe wanted to consume himself entirely in Ophelia, and she who was daring to take a step back. A love that was so strong, had led the two pulling in complete opposite directions. Rafe Cameron didn't know who he was without Ophelia, and was afraid she had become too reliant on the boy with blood on his hands.
Though, just like she knew she would, Ophelia caved.
Her soft steps trailed lightly through Tannyhill, finding Rafe inside his father's closet. A thick tailored jacket sat neatly on his shoulders, the clothed surface hugging around every inch of his muscular arms.
