RIPTIDE | Rafe Cameron

51. 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨

The thing about Camerons, is if they want something done, they put that plan in motion instantly. Within an hour of Rafe and I returning from the karaoke bar last night Ward had a pilot booked for the private jet, ready to fly the following morning.

I was hesitant about returning to the Outer Banks, unsure of whether or not I can still call it home. I'm not even entirely sure if I'm willing to call Guadeloupe home, but for now, wherever Rafe is will be home.

"Ladies and gentlemen we have landed at in the Outer Banks, local time is 2:37PM, we hope you enjoyed your flight, please remain seated as we taxi off of the runway," The pilot tells us over the tannoy as Rafe and I sit hand in hand, staring out at the airstrip where everything first went wrong.

It hadn't fully dawned on me that flying back to the OBX would mean landing on the same airstrip where the sheriff died, or rather where Rafe shot her. I try not to think about it, and selfishly, I try not to think about what it did to me.

"Are you okay?" Rafe asks, untucking his sunglasses from his shirt and putting them on as we taxi towards the flight line, which from what I can gather is empty except for a couple of small gliders.

"Yeah," I nod, smiling as I pull the sunglasses down that are pushing my hair back, "What's the plan?"

"We settle up these sales, then bon voyage OBX," Rafe grins, taking my hand in his and kissing it three times. He's been far more affectionate since last night, just like the Rafe I fell in love with. I definitely like it, and it feels like there's something different in the air between us. He knows that I can hold my own now, that I don't bite my tongue the way I used to, and I think he likes the way it keeps him on his toes.

"I think we should stop off at my parents' place," I tell him as the plane door opens, "They'll probably be working down at the shop."

"Whatever you want," Rafe smiles, standing up from his seat and making his way to the front of the plane, gesturing out of the door to someone down on the tarmac, "Bring that car over here, she's not walking across the tarmac."

"Yes boss," The attendant answers as Rafe returns to me.

"I think I'm capable of walking a few metres to your car," I sigh, standing up and reaching for my bag from the overhead locker, beaten to it by Rafe.

"I know what being back here means to you," Rafe tells me, holding onto my bag, "And I won't let you get hurt again."

"Thank you," I whisper, kissing him slowly before I takes his hand in mine, "You ready to tell my parents that you saved me, pretty boy?"

"Not really," He smirks as he leads me off the plane, both of us painfully aware that while things with my parents and I ended badly, their resentment for Rafe only runs deeper after everything he put me through.

As expected, Rafe's Range Rover is parked up at the bottom of the airplane steps, the passenger door already open. Rafe beelines for the backdoor, tossing my bag on the seat as I climb into the front of the car.

He closes my door for me before pacing around to the driver's seat, turning the engine on as he plugs his seatbelt in.

"Seatbelt," He nods at me and I oblige as he pulls away from the plane.

"It's weird being back," I sigh as we exit the airfield, speeding down the street towards the harbour, "It feels the exact same, but I also barely recognise it."

"I get the feeling we won't be getting the warmest of welcomes from the locals," Rafe mutters as he places his hand on my thigh, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

"You'll be wanting to steer clear of the cut then," I reply, opening my window to let some cool air in.

"Yeah," Rafe exhales, "But you just keep on pulling me back in."