Chapter Text
The Outer Banks. Paradise on Earth.
It’s the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses.
Two tribes. One island.
We’re the Pogues, and our mission this summer is to have a good time, all the time.
That’s JJ, my best friend since third grade. He’s about as local as they come. Latest in a long line of fishing, drinking, smuggling, vendetta-holding salt-lifers who made their living off the water. Mild kleptomaniac. Future tax cheat.
And that’s his older sister, Olivia.
Somehow, she’s always right in the middle of things that go wrong.
It was safe to say Liv was always up for an adventure.
She just had a habit of picking the kind that didn’t end clean – and climbing out of them without saying much about it.
That’s Kiara – Kie, as we call her. When she’s not saving turtles, listening to Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo, she hangs out with us. I’m still not totally sure why.
And that’s Pope. The brains of the operation. Finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship. Smartest person I know. Little bit of a weirdo.
And that’s me. John Booker Routledge.
My dad disappeared at sea about six months ago, looking for a shipwreck.
Which means it’s just me now – hanging out with my friends, trying not to think about it.
And then there are the Kooks – rich second-homers. Our natural enemies.
Island Club kids. Trust funds. Teeth too white to trust.
They don’t just live on the island. They own it.
That’s Sarah Cameron. The Kook princess.
And the guy following her around? That’s her boyfriend, Topper – all charm, no chill.
Kelce is probably the most pleasant of the lot.
Which is impressive, considering he’s always agreeing with whatever Rafe just said.
And then there’s Rafe Cameron – Sarah’s brother.
Just dropped out of college. Or whatever happened instead.
He’s got this way of looking like he’s about two seconds away from either punching someone or doing something really stupid – usually both.
You don’t really know what his deal is.
But whatever it is, it’s usually a problem.
He’s the kind of guy you don’t want mad at you –
or bored.
*~*~*~*
John B did not wake up when Olivia knocked.
He didn’t wake up when she raised her voice either.
“John B,” she called, louder this time. Her knuckles rapped against the door, the sound dull against the warped wood, echoing through the thin walls of the Chateau. “You said you wanted to be at work early. If we’re late, that’s on you.”
There was no answer.
With a sigh, Olivia pushed the door open. John B lay sprawled across the mattress, flopped down like gravity had simply given up on him. One arm was flung above his head, the other dangling off the bed toward the floor. His mouth was open, loud snores escaping unevenly. A small dark patch had spread across the pillow beneath his cheek.
She stared at him for a moment longer. She’d stopped counting how many mornings started like this. They’d been up too late again, drinking cheap beer on the dock, music playing from someone’s phone. They had enjoyed their Friday night a bit too much. Sadly, rent didn’t care about hangovers, and neither did the Camerons.
Her gaze left the drooling human being in the middle of the bed and landed on the nightstand, specifically, the half-full water bottle sitting there. A small, wicked smile tugged at her lips as she crossed the room, twisted the cap open, and tipped it just enough for a small stream of water to escape, waking John B with a strangled shout, coughing violently as he bolted upright.
“What the hell, Liv!”
“Five minutes,” she said calmly, as she grabbed one of the many shirts on the ground and tossed it at his chest. “Get dressed. I don’t feel like getting fired today.”
He glared at her, hair sticking up in every direction. “You’re evil.”
“Responsible,” she corrected, already turning away. “Someone has to make sure you don’t get your ass fired.” She didn’t wait for another response. She already knew there wouldn’t be a useful one.
The hallway was quiet, the faint smell of old wood and sunscreen clinging to the air. It was the kind of scent that never really left the Chateau no matter how many times they cleaned. Olivia moved on autopilot. The only sound was the floorboards creaking under her weight as she moved toward the guest bedroom.
JJ, her younger brother, slept there while Olivia slept on the pullout couch, since she, unlike JJ, didn’t bring her one-night stands to the Chateau. The two of them would crash at John B’s more often than not. The Chateau was closer to school and work – and neither of them liked being at their own house longer than they had to.
“JJ,” she said, knocking once.
A groan came from inside. “If you’re here to murder me, can it wait until after noon?”
“You decent?”
Another grumble, and she opened the door.
JJ was face-down in the pillow, hair sticking up weirdly and limbs tangled with the blanket. He squinted at her through one half-open eye.
“John B and I are leaving for work.”
“Cool,” he mumbled and rolled over, already falling asleep again.
She watched him for a second longer, shaking her head in disbelief, then shut the door quietly.
By the time she made it back into the hallway, John B nearly collided with her. He was half-dressed, frantically trying to close his zipper, a toothbrush clenched between his teeth as he fumbled with his shorts. The toothbrush slipped from his mouth and clattered to the floor.
Olivia ignored his antics as she grabbed her bag from the chair and watched him flurry around a bit more. Then he rushed into the kitchen to rinse his mouth and down the coffee Olivia had made. By the time he was finished, Olivia was already moving toward the door, keys in hand.
“Hurry up,” she called. “And pick up that toothbrush!”
*~*
Fifteen minutes later, the Twinkie rattled up the long, immaculate driveway of the Cameron estate – Tannyhill.
Even after years of working there, the place still felt unreal sometimes. The house sat far back from the road, white and sprawling, framed by perfectly trimmed hedges and lawns that never seemed to wilt no matter how brutal the summer heat got – even as the rest of the island burned under the sun. It looked untouched, like a photo from a magazine. Pretty to look at, not to live in. It looked like nothing bad ever happened here or ever would.
Money did that – a lot of money. It bought water, space, and silence. Money was also one thing Olivia didn’t have.
John B cut the engine and stretched. “Into the lion’s den.”
He headed toward the yard and the dock beyond it, where the Cameron boat sat gleaming in the early morning sun. John B worked outside at Tannyhill. He mowed the lawn, helped on the yacht My Druthers, cleaned the pool or did whatever the Camerons needed done that day.
Olivia turned toward the giant house. This was where she worked. She unlocked the front door with her key and punched in the alarm code, muscle memory kicking in. Then she stepped inside and listened for any noise, only to be met by silence.
The house was still asleep.
That was her favorite part of the day – the brief window of time when no one needed anything yet. There were no voices echoing through the halls, no last-minute requests. Just her and her morning routine.
She walked through the hallway, worn shoes moving across the expensive rugs and into the kitchen. There, she dropped her bag by the counter, tied her hair back, and went straight to the coffee machine. Coffee was always the first thing she made. After that, her body took over as she pulled eggs from the fridge, set out plates and wiped down the counter before it even needed it.
By the time Ward Cameron came downstairs, already dressed and talking into his phone, breakfast was nearly ready.
“Morning, Olivia,” he said absently.
“Good morning, Mr. Cameron.” She handed him the newspaper and a cup as he passed. Ward sat down at the table, sipping his coffee while scanning the business section for real estate listings.
Wheezie followed soon after, bright-eyed and already talking animatedly. She was a morning person, Sarah wasn’t. The older sister trailed behind Wheezie, hair a mess and eyes still half-closed.
“Morning,” Olivia said.
“Morning!” Wheezie chirped like she always had as she slid into her seat. Even when Olivia was just the babysitter and not whatever she was now, Wheezie was rarely in a bad mood.
Her job had started as babysitting. It was supposed to be a summer thing, quick money, nothing long-term. Somehow, it had stretched into mornings and weekends, ending in a full-time job by the time she was sixteen.
“Coffee,” Sarah mumbled incoherently, reaching immediately for the pot.
Rose came in last, a robe wrapped neatly around herself, her slippers soft against the tile. Even like this, she looked composed, like she’d stepped out of a magazine instead of bed.
While the Camerons ate, Olivia cleaned the kitchen, her movements efficient and practiced. The scrape of cutlery against plates followed her. This house ran smoother when she was there. Olivia knew that. Luckily, the Camerons did too.
Her phone buzzed as the cracked display lit up with a message from JJ. The contact name “Cockroach” glowing on the screen.
The lions eat you yet?
She smiled despite herself, typing one-handed as she scrubbed a pan.
Not yet. Still circling.
Not a minute later, JJ responded.
Shame. Thought today was the day.
A small chuckle escaped her while she slipped the phone into her pocket just as Sarah stood up, moving toward the counter.
“Hey, Liv? You got more coffee?”
“One cup left,” Olivia said. “Want me to brew another pot?”
“No, God no,” Sarah said immediately, filling her mug to the brim. “If Wheezie has more caffeine, she’ll bounce off the walls.”
Soon, the Camerons drifted out of the kitchen and the house settled back into a quieter rhythm. Olivia stacked the last plate, rinsed it and slid it into the dishwasher. She was wiping down the counter when she heard him.
The footsteps on the stairs were heavier than the others, slow and still so familiar.
She turned around just as he appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame, shoulder braced, arms crossed over his chest. He looked exactly like she remembered. Light brown almost blond hair neatly gelled back, his jaw tight and blue eyes alert. His posture seemed restless even this early in the morning. College surely hadn’t softened him. If anything, it had sharpened him. He was good looking and well-built – Olivia couldn’t deny that, as she watched his arm muscles flex in front of his broad chest.
She hadn’t seen him for months. That blissful stretch was clearly over.
He was back.
Later, if anyone asked when the summer’s problems began, she would say it was the exact same moment Rafe Cameron opened his mouth.
“Morning, Ollie.”
The drawling voice sent immediate annoyance through her body. The nickname was unwanted, but expected.
When she’d first started babysitting Wheezie, the younger girl had struggled with her name and called her “Oliver” by mistake. It was only once, but Rafe had heard it. The nickname apparently still stuck around.
“Did they let you back in,” she asked coolly, “or did you sneak in through a window?”
His mouth curved into an arrogant smirk. “Still charming. Miss me?”
“Not particularly.”
His gaze flicked down her body, taking in her clothes – the faded shirt, the frayed hem of her shorts, the worn sneakers. It was obvious her clothing wasn’t exactly new.
“Nice outfit,” he said. “Very… distressed.”
“Coming from you?” She looked over his striped, pastel-colored polo shirt. If he looked like a stuck-up prick on any other day, this shirt simply made him look like a rich asshole. It was fitting, really. “You look like a rejected cologne ad.”
He stepped farther into the kitchen, eyes drifting over the clean counters like he hadn’t seen it a hundred times before.
She glanced at him. “Are you offering to help?” The sarcasm was heavy in her tone.
He laughed softly, now leaning against the counter. “You know I don’t do chores.”
“I noticed.”
For a moment, they just looked at each other, measuring, trying to figure out the other’s next move. The silence was charged with resentment and frustration, but before he could insult her further, she turned back to her cleaning.
“So,” he said eventually, “you ever stop moving?”
No.
Olivia didn’t like standing still and Rafe Cameron – even if he had his head up his ass most of the time – noticed more than he ever admitted. That didn’t mean he understood any of it.
“Working,” she answered with a slight bite to it. “Some of us do that.”
That earned her a sharper smile. He stepped closer – too close. The kind of distance that made people aware of each other whether they wanted to be or not. She wasn’t small by any means, but Rafe Cameron was over six feet tall and towered over her. Olivia had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. He didn’t step back. And she had to remind herself, not to step back either, to hold her ground.
“You always this mouthy in the morning?” he asked.
“Only when people deserve it.”
Squaring up her shoulders, she moved past him, close enough to bump her shoulder against his arm. He didn’t move out of the way.
The tension that followed could be cut with a knife. Olivia ferociously scrubbed a spot on the counter and was relieved when Ward’s voice echoed faintly from somewhere deeper in the house, calling Rafe’s name.
Rafe rolled his eyes. “Duty calls.”
He lingered a second longer than necessary, then pushed off the counter. “See you around, Ollie.”
“Unfortunately.”
She finished wiping the counter. The spot hadn’t been dirty to begin with. When she looked up again, Rafe was already gone.
*~*
The rest of the day passed like it always did. After breakfast, Olivia ran errands, driving back and forth between places that felt too big and suffocating at the same time, finished small tasks in the household and watched the clocks tick closer to the end of the day.
Somehow, she ran into Rafe everywhere. He was in the living room, the hallway and even the pantry. He was back, and his presence seemed to haunt her.
She was heading downstairs when she heard his voice again, coming up the stairs. It sounded different – louder, sharper, edged with impatience. She didn’t listen on purpose. Still, she caught a few sentences before he turned around the corner.
“I know, Barry. Listen, man –“
He broke off at the sight of her, his jaw tightening. Phone still pressed to his ear, he walked past her. Eyes barely flickering in her direction. A second later, he disappeared into his room, the door shutting behind him.
She shook her head and continued down the stairs toward the laundry room and started separating clothes when she felt something tangled in the pocket of a hoodie.
A car key.
She knew whose key it was, of course. Rafe was always careless with his things. Once, she’d found his wallet in the laundry, four hundred dollars still inside. She hadn’t taken anything, but after he had grabbed it and slammed the door in her face without a thank you, she damn near wished she had.
Annoyed, she climbed the stairs. She considered leaving the key on one of the small hall tables, then thought better of it and knocked on his door.
“Rafe?”
He didn’t answer, but she could hear shuffling from inside the room, a drawer closing. She knocked harder.
“I know you’re in there, Rafe.”
The door was yanked open. Rafe stood there with his phone in hand, irritation written plainly across his face.
“What?”
She held up the key. “You dropped something.” Her voice was too sweet to be sincere.
He stared at it for a moment, then snatched it from her hand. “You make a habit of touching my things?”
She raised an eyebrow at his accusation. “Laundry. You left it in a hoodie.”
“Whatever,” he scoffed. “That everything?”
“You’re welcome,” she replied.
The door shut in her face. Olivia didn’t know why she was still shocked by his rude behavior, but she was and needed a moment to steady herself.
It had been just another day at Tannyhill. Except now, Rafe Cameron was back. That felt like a complication she hadn’t planned for. And it was only the beginning of everything that would happen that summer.