Blue | Rafe Cameron

xxi

The sting of loss cut deeper than I could have ever imagined.

In a single day, I had witnessed the mythical gold slip through my fingers, along with the boy who had captured my heart. It was a pain that few could fathom, and I, like most, struggled to bear the weight of it.

The night had been plagued with restlessness, my sleep disturbed by a torrent of memories and echoing words exchanged between Rafe and me. The realisation that the Pogues would never experience the thrill of going 'Full Kook' added another level of despair. As I rose from my troubled slumber, weariness clung to me like an anchor, draining my spirit and turning every movement into an arduous task.

Carefully, I descended the grand staircase of the Cameron Estate. Tanny Hill sprawled before me, vast and endless, a world beyond the reach of ordinary people. While my own home boasted its fair share of rooms, bathrooms, and acres, it paled in comparison to the sheer opulence of this estate.

I quickly reached the first floor and aimed to make my way downstairs when a figure caught my attention in the periphery of my vision. Sarah rushed through the corridor, a sense of urgency driving her movements, clutching a first aid kit tightly in her hands. Surprise and worry mingled within me but the absence of any visible harm on her eased that fear, but also intrigued me.

In the fleeting moment, I resolved to follow her, compelled by that sense of curiosity and concern.

Quickly, I descend the remaining steps, crossing the passage and slipping into the adjoining corridor. My brows furrowed as Sarah disappeared into one of Ward's office rooms, forcefully shutting the door behind her.

They say, 'Curiosity killed the cat', but I always preferred the second half of the proverb- 'Satisfaction brought it back.' Thus, I tiptoe toward the closed door, mindful of every step, careful to avoid creaking floorboards or loose tiles.

Reaching the door made of white oak, I pressed my ear against its cold surface, cupping a hand against my cheek to amplify the sound. The anticipation heightened as I positioned myself to the side of the doorway, ensuring my impending shadow remained hidden beneath the door.

"Lift your shirt," Sarah's voice, muffled by the door, commanded. Caught off guard, I puzzled over who could be in the room with her, a small smile tilting my lips in contemplation. Topper didn't come to mind, or at least I fervently hoped it wasn't him- I feared my patience with him had reached its limit, and this time, I might not hold back my anger.

Suddenly, Sarah's voice, tinged with boredom, began a countdown from 3. Startled, I jump, instinctively clamping a hand over my mouth to stifle any sound. A pained and resonating yell pierced through the door, a yell that could only belong to one person- John B.

"Are you kidding me?" Sarah's voice filled with exasperation, but I couldn't wait any longer. I pushed open the door, stumbling inside without hesitation. A snort escaped me at the sight that greeted my eyes- Sarah tending to a deep gash on John B's abdomen, the wound oozing blood. He sat back on the sofa, his head resting against the cushions, eyes tightly shut in pain.

"God, could you be any more of a baby?" I snort, shutting the door behind me.

The sound of my voice startled both Sarah and John B, their wide eyes locking onto the door before instantly exhaling in relief. They sank back into the sofa, tension dissipating, as they realised who had joined them.

I struggle to stifle my giggles as he clenches his eyes shut and slumps back against the sofa in agony. "Rory, you scared the crap out of- ow, fuck!" He manages to utter through gritted teeth.

"What happened, John B? I leave you alone for a few hours and now Sarah's patching you up?" I muse, raising an eyebrow with a mix of amusement and curiosity. Sarah focused on the task at hand and smirks in response while tending to the wound, much to John B's chagrin.