Bound By Lies - Rafe Cameron

Chapter 39

After making sure Wheezie's had her fill of pasta and is comfortably settled in front of the TV with her favorite show, I head upstairs, the sound of my soft footsteps echoing through the silent halls of Tannyhill. I can feel a knot of tension forming in my chest as I make my way to Rafe's room. Something about our conversation earlier—about the way he dismissed Wheezie so easily—left me feeling unsettled.

When I reach his door, I hesitate for a moment before knocking softly. There's a muffled sound of movement inside, and then Rafe's voice drifts through the door.

"Come in."

I push the door open gently and step inside. Rafe is sprawled out on his bed, shirtless and relaxed, his head propped up on one hand as he scrolls through his phone. He glances up as I enter, his gaze softening a little as he sees me.

"Hey," he murmurs, his voice low and almost lazy. "Everything okay? Why'd you knock?"

I nod, walking over to the bed and sitting down on the edge, my back to him. For a moment, I just sit there, staring at my hands, trying to find the right words.

"Rafe," I start softly, turning to look at him. "What's your relationship like with Wheezie?"

Rafe blinks, caught off guard by the question. He shifts slightly, leaning back against the headboard and regarding me with a curious expression.

"My relationship with Wheezie?" he repeats, like the concept is completely foreign to him. He shrugs lightly, his gaze drifting away. "I don't know... We don't really have one, I guess. I don't really notice her existence."

He says it so casually, so matter-of-factly, that it makes my heart twist a little. There's no malice in his tone, no bitterness. Just... emptiness. Like she's just another piece of furniture in the house, another part of the background.

I swallow hard, trying to keep the sadness from creeping into my voice. "That's sad, Rafe."

He looks at me, and I can see the confusion flicker in his eyes before he lets out a short, almost dismissive laugh.

"No, it's not, Teresa," he murmurs, shaking his head slightly. "Not everything has to be tragic, you know?"

There's something in his voice—something almost resigned, like he's convinced himself that keeping his distance from his family, from Wheezie, is the only way he can survive in this house. He's so used to being on the outside, so used to the idea that he doesn't belong, that he's built walls around himself so high and thick that even his little sister can't get through.

But it is tragic. It's tragic because I know Rafe isn't as unfeeling as he pretends to be. He's capable of so much love, so much emotion... but it's like he's chosen to cut himself off from anyone who might hurt him. And in doing so, he's pushed away people who care about him.

"Rafe," I whisper, scooting closer to him on the bed. I reach out, gently brushing my fingers along his arm, hoping to break through the hardness in his gaze. "She's your sister. You're the only one she has when your dad's not around. She looks up to you, you know."

Rafe lets out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head as if the thought is absurd. "Looks up to me? Please, Teresa. I'm not exactly the role model type. And anyway, I don't need to play the big brother role for her. She's got Ward and Rose to dote on her. That's more than enough."

He's dismissing it again, downplaying his importance in Wheezie's life. But I can see it now—the way he tenses slightly, the way his jaw tightens. He's trying to pretend it doesn't matter, but deep down, I think he knows it does. He knows that Wheezie needs him, that she wants his approval, his attention. And he's too scared—or too jaded—to let himself care.