Snow On The Beach // R.C.

1.15

So I had a concussion.

When John crashed the bike, it turns out I hit my head pretty hard. I was out for two days. Then the Camerons' family doctor who came by Tannyhill every day (that's how rich they are) recommended I stay in bed for another three. John came by every morning and every night, and Sarah was usually with him. I thought that was weird.

I got a bunch of get well texts from JJ, Pope, and Kiara.

Peterkin brought me flowers and a teddy bear. They're sitting on my nightstand, giving the entire room a fresh scent.

When I first woke up, I kept waiting for Cheryl to show up downstairs with a bunch of DCS agents. She never did. Peterkin said she would do her best to keep them away, but I knew that couldn't last forever. And now I'm back to staying at Tannyhill. For good. How can I—or John—go home with them on the prowl? I haven't thought to ask him where he's been staying.

Pacing across my room, the first normal steps I've taken in days, I decide it's best to march downstairs and accept Ward's offer of guardianship. John might hate me for it, but he has no other choice— A knock sounds at my door.

Whoever it is doesn't wait for me to answer. They barge right in.

"Well that was rude," I say when I see Rafe.

Much to surprise, the left side of his lips quirk up, eyes illuminating. "Glad to see you're back to your usual self."

"Glad to see that you're still a headache— Don't close that door."

Yanking his hand away from the door, he holds them both innocently in the air at his sides. "Sorry, sorry. How–how's your back?"

My head tilts. "I mean...it kind of pales in comparison to the concussion, but it's okay. Thank you for asking."

"You're welcome."

For a moment, I wonder if I'm still delirious from my head injury. So I walk up to Rafe and proceed to poke a finger into the center of his head. I succeed in doing that about three times before his entire face scrunches up.

"What are you—doing?" He starts trying to dodge my finger, so I end up booping him in the cheek, the neck, the chest, the back. I'm practically chasing him through the room.

"Trying to make sure this is Rafe Cameron I'm talking to and not some" —up and over the bed we go— "alien replacement. Shit, maybe I've been abducted by aliens. Are you a clone? Do you come in peace—"

"Stop." Rafe turns around too suddenly, and I almost run straight into his chest. He catches me around the waist before I have the chance, lifting my feet off the ground.

"Um, what are you doing?" I demand as he carries me across the room.

Setting me on my feet, he puts his hands on my shoulders and pushes me into a sitting position on the bed. "You should be resting."

I watch him take a seat next to me. "I have been resting. For five days."

"Doesn't matter. You shouldn't be chasing me after hitting your head like that."

"You can chase me instead if you want."

Something twitches in his mouth, and I think he's about to be mean. But then he breaks into a full smile, guffawing loudly. When he starts laughing—a deep, belly kind of laugh—I rear back slightly.

"Yeah," I say, "you're definitely an alien. Who are you and what have you done with Rafe Cameron?"

"It's the drugs."

I stare at his straight face. "Are you serious? Oh, my God, are you high right now?"

"No," he chortles, smiling again. "I can make jokes too, Pauper."