Pretty When You Cry ୨୧ Rafe Cameron

twenty two

Three days passed, all with the same routine for Isla. Waking up, getting dressed in the outfit chosen given to her, going on dates and pretending to be with Rafe, getting stares from people they knew, coming back to Tannyhill, thinking herself to death.

She didn't understand how nobody was concerned with her absence from school, but then again, she wouldn't know if they were. Her friends were probably skipping anyways, caught up in the John B and Sarah stuff. Isla felt like she was missing out on the trials and tribulations of getting her brother back. Hell, he could be back and she wouldn't even know.

Today was different. Today she would get on the Cameron's private jet and fly to the Bahamas. A bag was packed for her with a variety of vacation style clothes, some makeup, and toiletries. She didn't know how long she'd be there, but based on the contents of the suitcase, she assumed like three days.

All this wouldn't have happened if her and her friends had just gotten the gold out sooner. She had no time to think like that though. She could regret right back to the moment she was born, but it wouldn't change anything, sadly.

As they arrived at the airstrip Isla felt herself tense. Here she was, back at the tarmac where Rafe murdered a woman, and they were sitting in the car so casually like it never happened. But she could see in Rafe's eyes that he was thinking about it too, and he seemed ashamed.

'I uh- hate this place,' Rafe mentioned.

Isla felt like his words were a pathetic attempt at relating to her. She knew he maybe in some shape or form regretted what happened, but that's only because his dad didn't give him the validation he expected. If his dad had been proud, he would be too. How they felt wasn't the same.

'Let's just hurry up and get out of here, please,' Isla said.

The jet ride wasn't unbearably long. Isla spent most of the time wrapping herself up in a book, one with circumstances much more positive than her own. Rafe had spent a lot of time on the phone shouting at people, Isla didn't know who but based on what he was saying it sounded like it was people who had involvement in transporting the gold.

When they stepped out of the plane, the Bahamian sunset burned down on their skin. Outer Banks was warm this time of year, but the Bahamas was hot. They stepped into the waiting car and headed to the Cameron's Bahamas house— something only people as wealthy as them would have. Isla thought it was straight up spoiled for them to have multiple mansions and a private jet while she struggled to put food on her plate.

The house was just as luxurious as their other, only this one was gated and fenced more meticulously. It was directly on the sandy beach, which made for a spectacular sunset.

'You like it?' Rafe asked.

Isla didn't know why it mattered, what she liked and didn't like didn't seem to have any significance nowadays. 'Yeah, it's nice.'

'We've got the night here, then in the morning we have gold to transfer,' he said.

Isla got her own bedroom, the guest room, a quaint space with a queen bed and a bay window. Rafe carried her bag in and laid it on the ottoman at the end of the bed. 'Will you uh— be alright in here? I'm just down the hall.'

'Yeah,' she nodded.

Rafe left hesitantly, feeling that there was more to be said but not acting on that sense. He didn't really know what to say.

Isla tried to make the most out of her situation. She sat in the window as watched the tide pull the waves in and out. This would be a lovely vacation if she was here for any other reason, and if she had decent company.