They say the Outer Banks is paradise on earth-a place where sun-soaked beaches meet endless possibilities. But beneath the golden sunsets and ocean breezes lies a great divide. In this island it's Kooks versus Pogues, wealth versus want, perfection...
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GRACE ________________________
"A party? That's what was so important you begged me to come over after a hurricane?"
I crossed my arms and looked around the foyer with distaste. The Cameron estate was in its usual chaos: workers darting back and forth, sweeping debris, tugging wilted flower arrangements off tables, and fishing some horrendous gilded statue—definitely Rose's—out of the pool.
Rafe however seemed to want no part in restoring their home to its pre-storm glory, and was instead finding any reason to avoid being productive under his father's watchful eye. Including jumping at the chance to attend a party all the way across town.
"The Boneyard's gonna be packed," Rafe said, running a hand through his damp hair. "Topper and Sarah are coming, everyone's going to be there."
I raised a brow. "You mean everyone's going because they want to get drunk and ignore the fact that there's no power and half the island is still underwater?"
He grinned, the kind of grin that worked on people who didn't know him. "Exactly."
I held his gaze for a moment letting the sound of construction and manual labor fill the silence. Once upon a time I might've laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, and let him charm me into going along with whatever idiotic plan would give me a reprieve from the mind numbing boredom this island existed in.
Now? I barely felt the pull. His spontaneous nature felt like anything but, and that boredom wasn't budging.
"Grace." He said, tone shifting slightly. It was that edge of irritation I knew all to well, the one that came when he didn't get what he wanted, "Come on baby. Don't make this a thing."
I bit down the harsh retort that rose up on instinct , choosing instead to look past him, watching as a worker struggled to haul a tree branch twice his size into a pile outside the window.
I watched as he strained against the weight of it, his sweat staining the back of his shirt, a baseball cap sitting backwards on his head. Something twisted painfully inside my chest, a pang of something dangerously close to grief. Before I could linger on it, I shoved the feeling down and turned my gaze away.
I knew I shouldn't have come.
I had spent the last three days in Richmond enjoying an extensive spa weekend, exactly two hundred miles away from any irritation that was going to accompany this storm.
And by the time I had checked out of the resort this morning and hopped on the jet back to Kildare, I got the notification my father's staff had already sweeped any trace of Agatha from our property and cleared out.
My house, with its freshly waxed halls and perfectly cooled air, had been calling my name the moment I landed on the tarmac. But Rafe had been insistent—text after text for the last few hours until I finally caved. Not because I wanted to, but because it was easier than listening to him complain for the next few days about me ignoring him.
