There wasn’t a single day that went by that someone wasn’t questioning whatever reason you ended up dating someone like Rafe. There was a gulf between you, at least to everyone else, what was a real-life doll like you doing with a jerk bastard?

Come on, delicate little angel—always with your cute clothes. You're a polite and gentle princess, although a little too quiet. This didn't match his intense and aggressive manner at all, so why did you choose him?

Simple answer. You didn't want a prince charming on his white horse, you just wanted someone who saw you, genuinely.

Rafe met the requirements when he didn't try to get you to talk to him, but he still reached out to you every day. He would just sit there next to you in your bed—waiting patiently until you wanted to come out of your little world and say something. No pressure, everything at the right time.

The first time he had been so patient with someone—it was good, he had never had much calm in his life until you came along. He was loving you, for sure.

In fact, the surface looked different, but you were the same as him on the deeper side. Just trying to find a place in the world that didn't seem to exist—until you had each other.

He didn't judge you, you didn't judge him.

Rafe avoided going to places you didn't like, he didn't want to go without you—even parties stopped being important to him for a while, so you said you wanted to go to one. For him, of course, you hated crowded places with loud music and he knew it.

Protector, definitely. While he was on the white couch—talking to his friends, laughing and drinking, there you were, sitting at his feet with your head resting on his knee. It felt more comfortable to you that way, and he liked the idea—his hand was gently stroking your head, his kitten.

He didn't force you to speak, nor did he let anyone else do it—he just let you do what was good for you. “Need something, doll?” Rafe leaned in a little, whispering to you—he wanted to remind you that he was there for you.