Bound By Lies - Rafe Cameron

Chapter 74

I stare at myself in the mirror, my fingers trembling as I dab a little more concealer over the cut on my cheek. The makeup does its job, covering up the redness and the small, jagged line of blood that's already starting to scab over. But no matter how much I blend and layer, I can't erase the pain that lingers underneath.

My face looks almost normal again—no sign of the bleeding, no sign of the way it felt when the glass cut through my skin. Just smooth, unblemished skin.

Like nothing ever happened.

But I know it did. Every time I blink, I see Rafe's face, twisted in rage and guilt and desperation. I see his hands, bloody and bruised, slamming against the walls, hitting his own head like he couldn't stand to be inside his own body. He was lost in it, drowning in that anger that comes out of nowhere and consumes everything around it. Everything and everyone.

I sigh softly, setting down the concealer and reaching for the powder. My hands are still shaking, and I have to steady myself, taking a deep breath as I brush the powder over my skin, setting the makeup in place. It's not perfect. I can still see the faint outline of the cut if I look closely enough. But it's good enough.

It'll have to be.

"Why do you do this to yourself, Teresa?" I whisper softly, staring at my own reflection, the familiar face looking back at me—except it's not really familiar anymore, is it? The girl I used to be wouldn't have stayed after what happened tonight. She wouldn't be standing here, trying to cover up the evidence like it's something shameful. Something that needs to be hidden.

But I'm not that girl anymore.

I turn away from the mirror, my breath hitching slightly as I leave the bathroom, the hallway dim and quiet in the soft glow of the nightlight. Rafe's already in bed, his form a dark silhouette against the pale sheets, the blankets pulled up to his chest.

My steps are soft, quiet, as I approach him, my heart clenching painfully as I look down at his sleeping face. He looks so different like this—so calm, so peaceful. The anger is gone, the tension that always seems to hover around him, the wild, frenzied look that sometimes flashes in his eyes.

He looks like the boy I fell in love with. The boy who can be so tender, so loving. The boy who, despite everything, still has a part of my heart in a vice grip.

I lean down slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, feeling the soft warmth of his skin against my lips. He shifts slightly, a soft murmur escaping him, but he doesn't wake up. I pull back, watching him for a moment, my chest tightening with a mix of emotions I can't quite name.

"What am I gonna do with you, Rafe?" I whisper softly, my voice barely more than a breath, the words trembling on my lips.

Because I don't know. I really, truly don't know. I understand that he has anger issues. I know he has this darkness inside him, this anger that takes over and makes him do things he doesn't mean to do. I know he loves me—God, I know that—but that doesn't take away the hurt. It doesn't take away the fear that creeps in when I think about what he's capable of.

But I love him too.

I love him so much that it scares me, that it makes my chest ache with a kind of desperate longing I can't put into words. I love him, and I want to help him, want to be there for him. But every time something like this happens, I feel a little more of myself breaking, a little more of my heart fracturing under the weight of it all.

He stirs again, his brow furrowing slightly, his lips parting as he lets out a soft, breathless sigh. I bite my lip, a wave of tenderness and sadness washing over me as I reach out, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his forehead.