I wasn’t supposed to see Rafe Cameron today.

Sarah had texted me from some random number—her friend’s phone. “Left mine at Rafe’s last night,” she wrote. “Can you please grab it for me? He’s home. I’d go but I’m stuck with Mom all day.”

I almost said no. Rafe and I weren’t exactly close. He’d never been cruel, but he was distant—cold in a way that made you feel like you’d imagined any kindness. We barely spoke when we were in the same room. I never thought he paid much attention to me.

Still, I knocked on his door.

He opened it after a moment, surprised. His eyes swept over me, and his voice came low and rough, like he hadn’t used it all morning. “Didn’t expect you.”

“Sarah sent me. She left her phone.”

He nodded once, stepped back to let me in. “Come in. Hold on.”

The house was quiet, sun spilling through the big windows, dust floating in the air like it had been undisturbed for hours. Then I heard a small laugh. Not his.

I turned.

There, in the hallway, was a tiny boy—maybe three or four years old—wearing socks too big for him and dragging a stuffed tiger by its tail. He lit up when he saw Rafe.

“Rafey! Come see what I made!”

Rafe crouched automatically, voice softening. “One sec, bud.”

He looked back at me. “My nephew. I’m babysitting.”

I blinked. “You?”

He half-smiled, a little embarrassed. “Yeah. My sister had to work. He’s here till tonight.”

I should’ve taken the phone and left. That was the plan. But when the little boy held out his hand to me—tiny, sticky fingers and hopeful eyes—I sat down without thinking.

We spent an hour on the floor. Coloring. Building towers. Watching Rafe—really watching him—kneel down with quiet patience, tie little shoes, wipe jam from a cheek with the edge of his sleeve. He was good at it. Like he did this all the time.

At one point, the boy curled up on the couch and fell asleep with his head on Rafe’s leg. Neither of us moved. The house felt still.

“You’re not what I thought,” I said softly.

Rafe glanced at me, something unreadable in his eyes. “No one ever sticks around long enough to know.”

Silence settled between us again. A different kind this time. Not awkward—just gentle. Warm.

And I stayed. Not because I had to. Because I wanted to.