1. bury the memories

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

The air in Kildare was heavy with grief, a mix of humid summer heat and the weight of collective mourning. Sheriff Susan Peterkin's death had shaken the island to its core. The woman who had once kept order in their small town, who had been a symbol of law and justice, was now just another tragic headline.

Her funeral was being held at Tannyhill, and the Camerons had spared no expense. It was a grand affair, attended by law enforcement, politicians, and members of the community who wanted to pay their respects—or at least be seen doing so.

Olivine stood near the back of the crowd, dressed in a simple black dress, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She wasn't sure why she had come. Maybe it was because she felt like she owed it to Peterkin, or maybe it was because she needed to see how this all played out.

Mariah was beside her, solemn, her hands tucked into the pockets of her blazer. Pope was a few steps away, his face unreadable, though Olivine could see the tension in his shoulders. This wasn't just any funeral for him—it was personal.

The Camerons were front and center, of course. Ward stood with Rose, his face carefully arranged in an expression of sorrow. Wheezie was quiet, looking uncomfortably miserable in her black dress, her hands clasped together. Rafe stood slightly apart from them, his face unreadable behind his stormy blue eyes.

Olivine hadn't spoken to him since he had texted her the night before. She had gone to his loft, and he had been a mess—drunk, barely coherent, rambling about how nobody trusted him, about how he had done what he had to do. And now here he was, standing next to his father, pretending like none of that had happened.

The service began, with various officers and community leaders stepping up to speak about Sheriff Peterkin's legacy. The words felt hollow to Olivine. Not because they weren't true, but because no one was addressing what everyone in that crowd was really thinking—John B Routledge had supposedly murdered her, and now he was gone, lost at sea with Sarah Cameron.

As the speeches continued, Olivine found herself watching Rafe. He barely moved, standing stiffly, his hands clasped in front of him. But she noticed the way his jaw tightened every time someone mentioned John B's name.

Then came Ward's turn to speak. He stepped up to the podium, clearing his throat as he looked out at the crowd.

"Susan Peterkin was a good woman," he began, his voice heavy with practiced grief. "A strong woman. She dedicated her life to this community, to the people of Kildare. She was a friend. A protector. And she was taken from us too soon."

There was a murmur of agreement throughout the crowd.

"But she won't be forgotten," Ward continued. "Her legacy will live on in this community, and we will not rest until justice is served."

Olivine felt Pope shift beside her, tension rolling off of him. She reached out, giving his wrist a gentle squeeze.

As Ward stepped down from the podium, the crowd began murmuring again, people exchanging hushed words. The ceremony was wrapping up, but the real conversations were just beginning.

Olivine turned her head slightly as she caught sight of Topper and Kelce standing off to the side, both of them whispering to each other. They were staring at Rafe, and something about the way they looked at him sent a chill down Olivine's spine.

She glanced back at Rafe just in time to see him clench his fists at his sides. His breathing was steady, controlled, but she could tell he was on edge.

Then, suddenly, as the crowd started to disperse, Pope turned and walked away, his movements stiff with anger. Mariah called after him, but he didn't stop. Olivine sighed, rubbing her temple.

"This whole thing is messed up," Mariah muttered beside her.

Olivine nodded. "Yeah. It is."

But she had a sinking feeling that this was only the beginning.

The reception after the funeral felt suffocating. People milled about the Tannyhill estate, exchanging quiet condolences while pretending they weren't also there to gossip. Waiters moved through the crowd with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres, and it made Olivine sick.

Peterkin was dead, and people were drinking like this was just another country club gathering.

Olivine had stuck close to her mom before she left, occasionally scanning the crowd for Pope, who had disappeared after the service. Wheezie was seated by the fountain, quietly picking at a plate of food. Every now and then, someone would stop by to murmur something to Ward, who was playing the grieving citizen with unsettling ease.

But Rafe—Rafe had vanished.

Olivine had seen him slip away the moment the ceremony ended, walking off toward the back of the estate. She hadn't gone after him immediately, unsure if she should, but now that the crowd was starting to thin, she found herself wandering through the halls of Tannyhill, looking for him.

She eventually found him outside on the balcony, leaning against the railing, a cigarette in one hand and a glass of something dark in the other. His suit jacket was discarded on the chair beside him, his tie loosened, his blond hair slightly messy despite the gel.

She hesitated in the doorway before stepping out. "Rafe."

He didn't turn right away, just exhaled a long breath of smoke before glancing at her over his shoulder. His pupils were still blown wide, but his expression was oddly blank.

"You left."

Rafe let out a dry chuckle, swirling the drink in his glass. "Yeah. Figured no one would miss me."

Olivine leaned against the railing beside him, arms crossed. "I did."

That got his attention. He turned slightly, his eyes flicking over her face. "Why?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because I don't think you should be alone right now."

Rafe scoffed, shaking his head. "Alone's the only way I know how to be, O."

She watched him, taking in the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers gripped the glass a little too tightly. He wasn't okay—he hadn't been for a long time—but today, it was like something inside him had cracked just a little more.

Olivine swallowed. "Rafe... what really happened that night?"

His grip on the glass tightened.

"I told you," he muttered. "John B killed Peterkin. He tried to kill Dad."

"Did you see it?" she pressed carefully.

His head snapped toward her then, eyes flashing. "What the hell are you trying to say?"

"I just—" She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "I just want you to talk to me, Rafe."

He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "Jesus Christ, Olivine. I don't need this right now."

She reached out, touching his arm gently. "I'm not trying to smother you, J just need you to know that I'm here for you."

Rafe stared at her for a long moment before looking away, jaw clenched. "I did what I had to do," he muttered under his breath, so quiet she almost didn't hear it.

Her stomach twisted.

She knew Rafe—knew how he got when he was spiraling, knew how much he craved his father's approval, how desperate he was to prove himself. And now, standing beside him in the dim light of the balcony, she wasn't sure if she was looking at the same Rafe she had grown up with.

Or if he had become something else entirely.

She squeezed his arm one last time before stepping back. "Wheezie's at my place," she said softly. "Ward called to check on her, but I told her she could stay as long as she wants."

Rafe let out a small, humorless laugh. "Bet he loved that."

"He actually thanked me."

Rafe snorted, shaking his head. "Sounds like him."

She hesitated. "You should come with me."

His head tilted slightly, eyes scanning her face.

"I know you don't want to be here," she continued. "And I don't think you should be alone, either."

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he took another drag from his cigarette, staring out over the estate, his mind somewhere far away.

Then, finally, he exhaled and nodded. "Alright."

Olivine let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Maybe she couldn't fix whatever was broken inside of Rafe. Maybe she couldn't undo whatever had already been done.

But she could at least keep him from falling apart completely.

For now.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

As they pulled into her driveway, Olivine turned off the car and glanced at Rafe. He was staring out the window, jaw clenched, eyes flickering with something unreadable. The soft glow of the streetlights cast shadows across his face, making him look even more exhausted than he already did.

"Come inside," she said gently, reaching for his hand. He let her take it but didn't squeeze back.

Rafe followed her into the house, his movements slow, like he was walking through water. Olivine slipped off her shoes and turned to him. "Do you want something to drink?" she asked, keeping her voice light, trying to gauge his mood.

He shook his head, the wisps of his hair falling into his eyes. He made no move to fix it, just stood there, shoulders slightly hunched.

"Rafe." She stepped closer, resting a hand on his arm. His skin was warm, but his body felt tense beneath her touch. "Talk to me."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I'm fine," he muttered, voice hoarse.

She gave him a skeptical look. "You're not."

Rafe let out a sharp exhale, running a hand down his face before pushing his hair back roughly. "I just need to sit down," he admitted.

Olivine nodded, leading him to the couch. He sank into it heavily, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. She watched him for a moment before disappearing into the kitchen. If he didn't want a drink, she could at least grab him something small—something to ground him.

She returned with a glass of cold water and a bowl of pretzels, placing them on the table. "You don't have to eat, but at least drink something," she said softly.

Rafe glanced at the water but didn't reach for it. Instead, he rubbed his hands together, his gaze locked on the floor. "I keep thinking about everything," he murmured. "About... what happened."

Olivine sat next to him, tucking her legs under her. "I know."

He let out a dry laugh, humorless and sharp. "Do you?" His eyes flicked to hers, dark and unreadable. "Because I don't even know what to think anymore."

She reached for his hand again, squeezing this time. "You don't have to figure it all out tonight."

Rafe exhaled, his fingers tightening slightly around hers. His other hand raked through his hair again, messing up the gel that had held it in place earlier.

Olivine didn't push him to talk more. She just sat with him, their hands loosely intertwined, waiting for him to breathe again.

Rafe remained silent for a few moments, his chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths. The weight of his thoughts seemed to pull him deeper into himself, and Olivine didn't want to force him out of it. Instead, she let the stillness fill the room, her thumb gently rubbing the back of his hand, offering what little comfort she could without words.

Finally, Rafe broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. "I should've done something more. I should've—" He stopped, clenching his jaw as if the words tasted bitter. "I don't know. It's like I'm drowning in all of it."

Olivine shifted closer, her shoulder brushing his. She didn't say anything at first. She didn't have the right words to fix this. But what she did have, what she always had, was the ability to simply be there. To offer her presence when nothing else seemed to make sense.

"Rafe," she began softly, her voice steady, "you did what you thought was right. And sometimes, that's all we can do."

He shook his head, lips pressed tight together, his eyes distant as he stared at the floor. "But I don't even know if I made the right choice. I don't know if I've done anything right in a long time."

She turned to face him fully, lifting her other hand to gently cup his face, tilting it so their gazes met. "You've done right by me. By Wheezie. By your family, even when it's been hard."

Rafe's expression faltered at her words, and for the first time that evening, his eyes softened, something flickering behind the storm that had been raging inside him. But then, as quickly as the moment passed, he broke eye contact, his gaze drifting back to the floor. "I don't deserve... any of that."

Olivine let out a soft sigh, her heart aching for him. She didn't know how much more he could take before he shattered entirely, but she couldn't just let him pull away. Not now.

"You're not perfect," she said quietly, her thumb brushing his cheek. "But you're human. And that's enough."

Rafe scoffed lightly, his breath shaky. "Sometimes, I wonder if I even deserve that."

Olivine shifted closer still, her knee gently nudging his. "Rafe, you're here. You're still trying. And that's all that matters." She paused, letting her words hang between them before adding, "You're not alone in this."

He looked at her again, the intensity in his gaze softer now, the fight in him dulled, if only for a moment. It felt like a small crack in the wall he'd built around himself, and she wasn't sure if she was the one breaking through or if it was just him, finally letting himself feel something other than anger.

"I don't know if I can do this, Olivine," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I don't know if I can be who everyone needs me to be."

She leaned in closer, pressing her forehead against his. "You don't have to be anyone else. Just be you."

For a moment, they were quiet, the only sound the gentle thrum of the air conditioner and the soft rhythm of their breathing. Rafe closed his eyes, and Olivine stayed there with him, her presence steady, grounding him in a world that felt anything but solid.

Eventually, he sighed, a deep, long exhale that seemed to release the weight pressing on his chest. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, more broken. "I don't know if I can fix everything I've done, but... I'll try. For you. For Wheezie."

Olivine smiled softly, her heart swelling with affection for him. "That's all I can ask for."

She didn't know where this path would lead them, or if he would truly find peace with what had happened. But in that moment, sitting next to him, holding onto him, she knew they could face whatever came next—together.

The tension in the room was immediate and suffocating.

The moment Pope, JJ, and Kiara stepped inside and saw Rafe in the living room, everything shifted. The exhaustion and concern they had walked in with morphed into raw, burning fury. Their postures stiffened, their gazes darkened, and Olivine swore she could feel the air crackle with the weight of unspoken rage.

Pope's fists clenched at his sides, his expression twisted with barely contained anger. JJ looked like he was a second away from launching himself at Rafe, and Kiara—Kiara's lip curled, her hands trembling at her sides, eyes locked onto Rafe with unfiltered hatred.

"You have got to be kidding me," Pope seethed, his voice shaking. "What the hell is he doing here, Olivine?"

Olivine opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Kiara took a sharp step forward. "He tried to kill JJ, Olivine. He choked me. He punched Pope. And you're just—what? Sitting here with him like none of that ever happened?"

Her words hit Olivine like a slap, and she froze, her stomach twisting painfully. "What?"

JJ inhaled sharply, his entire body tense. "Kie—"

But she wasn't done. "You don't know because you weren't there," Kiara spat, her voice thick with anger. "When we were trying to help John B get away, we found a ship house near the marsh. He showed up with Barry, jumped us, beat Pope, nearly killed JJ—"

JJ suddenly moved, clamping a hand over Kiara's mouth before she could finish. His eyes were wild, panicked, flicking to Olivine, then to Rafe, then back to Kiara. His fingers trembled against her skin as he shook his head urgently.

"Don't," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Don't say it."

Olivine stared at them, shock washing over her in waves. She felt like she was suddenly standing in quicksand, sinking, unable to catch her breath. Her head snapped toward Rafe, searching for any sign of an explanation, a denial—anything.

"You—" She swallowed, her voice unsteady. "What the hell are they talking about, Rafe"

The second the words left her lips, Rafe's head snapped toward her, his eyes flashing with something she couldn't quite place.

Disbelief.

Hurt.

Betrayal.

And Anger.

Then, like a switch had been flipped, his expression hardened into something cold and distant.

A scoff left his lips as he slowly pushed himself off the couch, shaking his head. "Wow." His voice was eerily calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it. "My own girlfriend."

Olivine's widened, her lips parting as she stood up. "Rafe—"

But he just kept shaking his head, backing away from her like he couldn't stand to be in the same room. "The one person I need right now, and you're ganging up on me too."

"That's not—"

"No," Rafe cut her off, scoffing again as he reached for his jacket. His movements were tense, jerky, like he was barely holding himself together. "I'm outta here."

Olivine paused, the shock disappeared and anger bubbled at her chest. "Rafe, wait—"

But he was already moving toward the door.

JJ exhaled sharply, muttering under his breath as he rubbed a hand down his face. Pope just stood there, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful. Kiara was still seething, her body practically vibrating with fury.

Olivine noticed, the pain in their eyes.

She turned on her heel and hurried after Rafe, reaching for his arm as he walked away. "Rafe, stop, we need to talk."

His body tensed under her touch. For a moment, he didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood there, staring blankly at the night sky.

Then, in a voice so low she almost didn't hear it, he muttered, "I needed you, and you do this."

Olivine's breath caught in her throat.

Then he pulled away, walking further away into the distance.

And left.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

KIKI SPEAKS ;
not edited !!

long time no see, the first chapter of act two is outtttt

word count : 3.1k

ENJOY !!
xoxo kiki 💋💋