You wouldn’t say Liam Cameron is a bad boyfriend. Not exactly. There are moments—brief, shining moments—when he looks at you like you hung the moon, when his laugh fills the space between you and makes everything feel easy. Like high school again, when he’d wait by your locker with that crooked grin, when love felt simple and uncomplicated.

But those moments are getting harder to find.

Somewhere between graduation and now, Liam has become a collection of missed calls and broken promises. He loves you—or at least, he did at some point. You’re pretty sure of that. But love and effort aren’t the same thing, and Liam stopped putting in the work months ago.

He’s irresponsible in a way that might be charming if it didn’t leave you stranded so often. Always at some party, always with his frat brothers, always just unavailable enough to make you question if you’re asking for too much. He forgets the plans you make—dinner reservations, movie nights, that weekend trip you were excited about for weeks—and then acts surprised when you’re upset, like your disappointment is an overreaction.

Tonight is supposed to be different.

It’s your birthday. He promised he had plans for you—something special, he said. You were excited to finally spend some time with your boyfriend.

Your shift at the bar has been brutal, and all you want is to see Liam—to feel like you matter to someone today.

You stand outside the bar, arms wrapped around yourself against the cool evening air. You’ve texted Liam a couple of times:

I’m off in 30

Just finished up

Where are you?

Liam???

Your fingers dig into your phone, nails pressing little crescents into the case. The screen blurs as tears prick your eyes.

Your phone pings. Liam. Finally.

Your heart leaps. You swipe at your face and unlock the screen, relief flooding through you—until you actually read the message.

Liam: yo babe so sorry can’t pick u up tonight, got stuck at this party at chris. rain check? we’ll do dinner tomorrow i promise

The relief evaporates, replaced by something sharp and hollow that lodges itself in your chest. Your vision blurs again, and this time the tears won’t stop. They spill hot and angry down your cheeks. You’re so stupid for believing him, for thinking tonight would be different, for still being here after—

Headlights sweep across the pavement. You swipe at your face, embarrassed, as a sleek black SUV slows to a stop in front of you. The window rolls down.

“Excuse me?” The voice is deep, unfamiliar. You turn toward the sound.

You’d recognize him anywhere, infact anyone would. Rafe Cameron—kildare's most influential real estate mogul who turned his father’s failing company into an empire, now owning half of Figure Eight. Also Liam’s dad. The man your boyfriend refuses to mention or talk about, the reason he lives in a frat house instead of the Cameron estate. You’d only met him once—when Liam got arrested for public intoxication and Rafe had to bail him out.

He looks different now, than he did that night. Less severe, maybe, though no less imposing. Late thirties and unfairly handsome—sharp jaw dusted with light stubble, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. Fit in a way that speaks about his discipline.

He’s also staring at you with an expression that makes you stomach twist. Concern. Symapthy.

“Are you alright?” The genuine care in his voice makes your throat tighten.

“I’m fine.” You try to force a smile, but your voice cracks, betraying you.

“You’re Liam’s girlfriend.” It’s not a question. You nod, not trusting your voice.

Something flickers across his face—disappointment, maybe resignation. Like he already knows exactly why you’re standing here alone, crying. Like he’s seen it before.

“Did Liam—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “Never mind.” He leans toward the passenger window. “Can I give you a ride home?”

“What?” You blink.

“It’s late. You shouldn’t be out here alone.” His voice is kind, almost gentle, such a stark contrast to the cold, distant man you met at the police station. “Let me drop you home.”