angel - rafe cameron (outerbanks)

20 - fuck it

chapter 20
fuck it

****SMUT****

the room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the night beyond the windows. angie sat on the bed, her hands still gripping the edge of the mattress, the weight of the box and its contents pressing down on her like a stone. her mind buzzed with too many thoughts—questions, doubts, fears—all colliding in a chaotic whirl that made it hard to breathe.

since her meltdown on the kitchen floor, she hadn't said a word to rafe. she was embarrassed and in all honesty, she had no idea what to say. he'd been quiet too, though she could feel him in the space beside her, his presence a constant reminder.

"angel," rafe said softly, his voice breaking the heavy silence. he shifted beside her, just close enough to make her aware of him, but not enough to overwhelm. "we should talk about it."

angie winced at the mention of it, her body stiffening. she didn't want to. she couldn't. "no," she whispered, barely audible. "i don't want to talk about it."

there was a pause, and she could feel rafe's gaze on her. his jaw tightened, but he didn't push, didn't press her further. the way he looked at her sometimes—like he understood things that she couldn't even comprehend—made her feel exposed, vulnerable in ways she didn't want to be.

he shifted again, leaning back, but she could still feel him in her peripheral vision. after a moment, rafe spoke again, his tone softer this time. "we will figure this out, angel."

angie swallowed hard. she knew he was right. she knew they needed answers, but right now, she couldn't bring herself to face them. not yet.

she turned her head slightly, catching rafe's eyes, and her heart clenched. she didn't want to look at him, didn't want to see the concern in his eyes. it made her feel even more broken.

but then something flickered across rafe's face—something that almost looked like hesitation. he opened his mouth as if to say something more, but then he closed it again, his eyes flickering to the box in front of her.

he wanted to bring up the texts. she could tell.

the name lucas was a ghost in the room, hanging between them like an unspoken truth. rafe thought about it for a second longer, then shook his head, clearly deciding against it. good, angie thought. she didn't want to hear that name again—not now, not ever.

rafe leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms in front of him. he didn't speak, didn't push. he just sat there, a silent weight next to her. and for a moment, the silence stretched on, unbearable but oddly comforting in its quiet.

angie closed her eyes, focusing on the sound of her own breathing, trying to force herself into calm. she couldn't stay here, though. not in this space, not with the weight of everything hanging over her.

she needed to escape it, to breathe again.

finally, she reached for the box. her fingers grazed the edge, the burner phone still a stark reminder of the web she'd just barely begun to unravel. the thought of it made her stomach twist again, but she didn't let herself think too much about it.

"we're not talking about it right now," she said again, her voice firm, though it cracked a little at the end.

rafe nodded, though his eyes never left her.

angie let out a shaky breath and turned to look at him. his expression was open, unguarded, and so painfully kind that it made her chest ache.

"i'm just not used to this," she admitted, her voice barely audible.