You only planned to stay for an hour. Help Wheezie with her project, go home, simple.

Then the storm hit — sudden, violent, loud enough to rattle the walls.

The lights went out. The wind howled. And the guest room window exploded inward with the pressure.

Before you could even react, a hand wrapped around your arm and yanked you backward.

Rafe.

“Watch it,” he snapped, pulling you away from the shattered glass. “You really would’ve walked straight into that, huh?”

Your heart hammered. “I didn’t— I wasn’t—”

“Yeah,” he cut in. “You weren’t paying attention. Shocker.”

His voice was rough, but his grip was steady — not cruel, just urgent. He didn’t let go until he’d practically herded you down the hallway.

“Come on. My room’s the only one sealed,” he said.

“What about Wheezie—?”

“She’s with Sarah in the safe room. You,” he added, looking you over like you were a problem he didn’t ask for but was stuck with, “are with me.”

He opened his bedroom door and didn’t wait for you to agree — he just ushered you inside with a hand at your back. The wind outside screamed like a freight train. The electricity flickered before dying completely.

You stood there awkwardly. Rafe shut the door, slid the deadbolt, and rested his forehead against the wood for just a second like he needed to get himself together.

Then he turned, his expression unreadable in the dim light from the storm.

“Sit down,” he said.

You stiffened. “I can— I’m fine standing.”

Rafe scoffed, yanking blankets onto the bed. “No, you’re not. You jump every time thunder hits. And if you pass out, I’m not scraping you off the floor.”

You bit your lip, defensive. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

“Oh yeah?” He stepped closer, voice lower. “Look outside and tell me that again.”

Lightning lit the room, throwing sharp shadows across his face — arrogant and beautiful and too close.

Another crack of thunder hit. The house trembled. So did you.

Rafe’s lips twitched, just slightly — not mocking, but knowing.

“Thought so,” he murmured.

Reluctantly, you sat on the edge of his bed. Rafe dropped beside you, not close enough to touch but close enough that you felt the heat of him.

“Relax,” he said. “I don’t bite.”

Then, with a smirk: “Unless you ask.”

Your breath caught. He looked too pleased with your reaction.

“You’re enjoying this,” you muttered.

“Not the storm,” he said. “You being here.”

You stared. “Why?”

He didn’t answer immediately — like he debated whether to give you the real reason or the safe one.

When he spoke, it was somewhere in between.

“You make this house quieter,” he said. “Even when you’re shaking like a leaf.”

You didn’t know what to do with that.

Another violent rumble of thunder. Instinctively, you flinched toward him before you could stop yourself.

Rafe froze — then slowly, deliberately, slid his arm behind you and pulled you against his side. No hesitation. No asking.

“Just lean,” he muttered. “I’m not gonna let you break.”

You swallowed. “I’m not— I’m not scared.”

“Yeah?” He angled his head, eyes sharp. “Then why are you hanging on to me?”

You tried to pull back. Rafe didn’t let you.

“I’m not making fun of you,” he said, voice quieter but rough. “I just… need you to know you don’t have to act tough with me.”

Your fingers had balled in the material of his shirt without you realizing. He looked down at that, then back up, expression darkening.

“You cling to me like that again,” he said, low and slow, “and I’m not gonna pretend I don’t like it.”

Heat flooded your face. “Rafe—”

“No.” His hand tightened against your waist — not trapping, just certain. “Don’t act like you don’t feel this.”

The room pulsed with tension — the storm outside raging, the silence inside heavier.

“You’re safe with me,” he said, and for once there was no arrogance in it — just truth. “Even if I have to drag you into the safest room myself.”