I Can Fix Him (no really I can) || Rafe Cameron

27. Enough Is Enough

I let Rafe guide me up thr stairs, my body heavy with exhaustion. The argument with Kiara had left me feeling hollow, like I didn't belong anywhere anymore.

"You're going to feel better after some rest," Rafe murmured as we entered his room.

I nodded weakly, letting him sit me down on the edge of the bed. He crouched in front of me, his hands resting lightly on my knees as he looked up at me with concern.

"You don't have to keep everything in, you know," he said softly.

I managed a small, shaky laugh. "You're one to talk."

That got a tiny smirk out of him, and I felt some of the tension in my chest ease.

"Sit tight," he said, standing. He grabbed a hoodie from the back of a chair and draped it ove my shoulders. The simple act made my eyes sting with tears again.

"Rafe," I whispered.

He turned, his expression softening when he saw the tears on my cheeks. "What is it?"

Before I could over think it, I leaned forward, grabbing his face and kissing him.

He froze for a moment, and then he melted into it, his hands sliding up to cradle my face. The kiss was slow and deep, an unspoken reassurance passing between us.

When we broke apart, his forehead rested against mine, and we were both breathing heavily.

"You don't have to do this," he said, his voice hoarse.

I kissed him again, silencing whatever protest he might've had. "I want to," I murmured against his lips.

His hesitation disappeared as he scooped me up, laying me back on the bed. His movements were careful, as if he was afraid, I might break, but there was no mistaking the fire In his touch.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn't feel like I was spiralling. In his arms, I felt grounded- safe.

Afterwards, I barely had the energy to keep my eyes open. Rafe pulled the blanket over us, his fingers tracing absent patterns on my back as I drifted off to sleep. ______________________________________________________________________________

Rafes POV

Pen's breathing evened out against my chest, her hand resting lightly over my heart. For a moment, I stayed there, watching her. She looked so peaceful, and it hit my again just how much she meant to me.

I carefully slid out from under her, making sure not to wake her as I tucked the blanket tighter around her. She stirred but didn't wake, her face burying into the pillow.

I grabbed my clothes off the floor and slipped them on, anger simmering beneath my calm exterior as I left the room.

I couldn't let it go- what Kiara had said, how she'd treated Pen.

By the time I reached Kiara's house, my blood was boiling.

"Kiara!" I shouted, slamming my car door as I stormed up to the porch. "Get out here!"

The door opened, and Kiara stepped out, her arms crossed. Her face twisted in disdain when she saw me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She snapped.

"I'm here because of Pen," I growled, stepping closer. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Kiara's eyes narrowed. "You're the last person who should  be lecturing me about how to treat her."

"Don't turn this around on me," I shot back. "You don't get to push her out because you're still hung up on who I used to be."

"She chose you, Rafe." She spat. "What did you expect? She's not one of us anymore."

"She never stopped being one of you," I snapped back. "She's better than all of you put together, and you can't even see it."

Kiara's lip curled. "She's different. She's not the same Penelope we grew up with."

"No, she's better," I said coldly. "She deserves better than you, than all of you. And if you can't see that, then maybe it's better she's with me."

I didn't give her a chance to respond. I turned on my heel and left, slamming my truck door behind me.

When I got back to the house, Pen was still asleep, her face relaxed against the pillow. I sank down into the chair by the bed, watching her for a long moment.

She stirred, her lashes fluttering as her eyes cracked open.

"Rafe?" she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

"I'm here baby," I said quietly

She smiled faintly, reaching out to take my hand.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I'd done something right.