I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

Or maybe I can't... Rafe Cameron was never an easy person to love, but Y/N loved him anyway. Before everything fell apart, they were inseparable. She knew the boy behind the Cameron name: his temper, his insecurities, his desperate need for his father's approval. She knew how to make him laugh, how to calm him down, and how to recognize when something was bothering him before he said a word. But everything changed the night Rafe shot Sheriff Peterkin. After the shooting, Ward Cameron did everything he could to protect his son and keep the truth buried. When Ward attempted to escape to the Bahamas with Sarah and the gold, John B interrupted their plans. Suddenly, the Cameron family's carefully constructed world was falling apart. And Rafe couldn't tell Y/N what he'd done. Terrified of being exposed, consumed by guilt and increasingly desperate for his father's approval, Rafe began pushing her away. He stopped answering her calls, disappeared for hours, started drinking and using drugs, and became increasingly unpredictable. The boy who once couldn't stand being away from her now acted as though her presence meant nothing. Eventually, Y/N walked away. But Rafe Cameron doesn't know how to deal with losing the one person who ever loved him without wanting something in return. Because sometimes the person you remember and the person standing in front of you are no longer the same.

@doreenss·

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The first thing you noticed was that Rafe had stopped wearing your bracelet. It was a small thing. A thin silver chain you'd bought him during your first summer together. He used to wear it everywhere, even when he complained that it didn't match his outfits. Now it was gone. Just like everything else.

Three weeks. Three weeks since your last proper conversation. Three weeks since he'd kissed your forehead, told you he'd call later and disappeared into another one of his increasingly frequent nights out. Rafe was always going to call later. Always going to explain later. Always going to make things right later. Except later never came.

You stood outside the Cameron house, staring at your phone for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing.

Rafe Cameron

Y/N?

You looked up. Rafe was leaning against his black Range Rover. His shirt was wrinkled, his expression unreadable, and there was something about him that felt unfamiliar.

Rafe Cameron

Hey.

He barely nodded.

Rafe Cameron

What are you doing here?

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