Bound By Lies - Rafe Cameron

Chapter 25

Rafe's POV

The night air was cool against my skin, the only sound the gentle crashing of waves against the shore. The beach stretched out before us, bathed in silver moonlight, and for a moment, I let myself believe that we were alone in the world. That it was just Teresa and me, and everything else—everything dark and twisted—didn't exist.

But the guilt was still there, gnawing at me, growing stronger with every word she spoke.

She sat beside me on the driftwood log, her gaze distant as she stared out at the water. I could see it in her face—the way she was lost in her thoughts, her memories. Memories that were as much a part of her as the blood in her veins. And I hated myself for it. Hated the way I'd ripped those memories apart, shattered them into something painful and raw.

"You know," she murmured softly, her voice carrying on the breeze, "I used to come to the beach all the time when I was a kid."

I turned my head slightly, watching her profile as she spoke. She didn't look at me—didn't seem to notice the way I was clinging to every word, every memory she shared.

"My aunt would take me, and we'd spend the whole day here, just the two of us. She'd teach me how to swim, and we'd build these massive sandcastles. I always thought she was invincible—like nothing could ever hurt her."

My chest tightened painfully, the guilt twisting through me like a knife. Her aunt. Sheriff Peterkin. I could see her face clearly in my mind—the way she'd looked at me the day she died, the way her eyes had gone wide with shock and fear.

"She used to tell me these stories about pirates and buried treasure," Teresa continued, her voice soft and a little wistful. "Said the Outer Banks was full of secrets, just waiting to be uncovered."

She let out a low, sad laugh, shaking her head slowly.

"I guess that's where I got my curiosity from. She always encouraged me to explore, to ask questions... to never settle for less than the truth."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. She was talking about the truth like it was some noble, untouchable thing. But I knew better. Knew that the truth could be sharp and unforgiving. And if she found out... if she ever uncovered my truth...

"She sounds like she was an amazing person," I muttered softly, my voice thick with guilt.

Teresa nodded, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips. "She was. She always knew what to say to make me feel better, even when things were tough. After my parents died, she was the one who took me in, made me feel like I still had a family. She was my rock."

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. All I could feel was the weight of what I'd done pressing down on me, crushing me. I'd taken that rock away from her. I'd shattered the only stability she'd had left. And she didn't even know.

"What about you, Rafe?" she asked softly, turning to look at me. "What was your childhood like?"

The question caught me off guard, knocking the breath out of me. I hesitated, my gaze dropping to the ground. I wasn't used to talking about myself—wasn't used to letting people in. But there was something about Teresa, something about the way she looked at me, that made me want to open up. Made me want to share, even though I knew it was dangerous.

"It wasn't... great," I muttered quietly, the words feeling heavy on my tongue. "My dad... he's always been tough on me. Always expected more, no matter what I did. I never felt like I was good enough, you know? Like I was always falling short."

I felt her hand slip into mine, her fingers squeezing gently. I glanced up at her, startled by the softness in her gaze, the way her eyes seemed to shine with sympathy.