𝔅𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔦𝔢 - Rafe Cameron

②③

...

Jazmine dragged her bag down to the beach, her feet sinking into the soft sand with each step. She had come across an old, abandoned fisherman's house, tucked away from the main road. The locals had mentioned it had been vacant for a while now, a place left to fall into disrepair.

The building was a crumbling wreck, the roof sagging and the walls weathered by time. But in that moment, it felt like her only option. It was quiet here, away from everything—away from him. She could stay here for a while. Just until she figured things out.

She glanced around the deserted area, trying to calm her restless heart. She couldn't stay in the house she was at any longer; the weight of everything there was too much. She needed to be alone, away from the reminders, away from Rafe.

A sudden noise behind her snapped her out of her thoughts. She quickly grabbed a knife from her bag and stood up, her heart racing, ready to face whatever was coming her way.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

The man in front of her was older, probably in his forties. His face, though unfamiliar at first, felt like it had been etched into her memory. She couldn't place it, but there was something about him, something that made her uneasy.

"I should be asking you that, young lady," he said, his voice gruff, his gaze sharp. "This is my property."

Jazmine looked up at the dilapidated building behind him, her eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. "Your property? This old shack?"

"Yes," he replied, his tone not one of pride, but resignation. "It's mine. What are you doing here? You homeless or something?"

Jazmine smirked, her lips curling slightly. "If anyone looks like they're homeless here, it's you, sir."

She wasn't in the mood for a fight, but something about his presence grated on her nerves. The man was clearly older, possibly richer, and he still had the audacity to call her out. He probably thought she was just another lost soul looking for shelter.

"I've got a ferry tomorrow afternoon," she said, her voice cool, "and I can't stay where I was for now."

The man studied her for a moment, his expression softening, but just barely. "You really don't have anywhere else to go?"

"If I did," Jazmine snapped, "I wouldn't be here."

He sighed, as if he had expected a different answer, but he didn't press further. Instead, he gestured towards thecloset. "There's a bunk in here," he said, his voice more resigned than kind. "You can sleep there for the night."

Jazmine's stomach growled, a reminder that she hadn't eaten in hours. "You don't have anything to eat, too?" she asked, her tone almost pleading, but not quite. "I have some food, but I'm saving it for the trip."

The man paused for a moment, then nodded as if he were reluctantly conceding something. "I'll make something for you."

As he began to prepare a meal for her, Jazmine sat down on the edge of the bed, her mind swirling. The man seemed out of place here. He had an air about him, something that made him feel distant, almost lost. Despite his rough exterior, there was something about him that felt strangely familiar.

"You seem like a classy guy," she said. "What are you doing here?"

He glanced over at her, his eyes shadowed with something unreadable. "I came to visit my son."

Jazmine raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "And he can't take you in?"

The man's eyes darkened, the flicker of pain passing through them almost imperceptibly. "He doesn't want to see me."