The first time Rafe Cameron saw you cry, he didn’t know what to do.

You weren’t the type to break easily. You were all sharp words and lazy smirks, the kind of girl who played with lighters just to watch the flame dance between your fingers. Untouchable. Unbothered. Always just out of reach.

But tonight, sitting on the hood of his truck with mascara smudged beneath your eyes, you looked different. Softer. Real.

Rafe leaned against the door, watching you through the haze of his cigarette smoke. “Didn’t know you had feelings, Bunny.”

You let out a breathy laugh, wiping at your cheeks. “Me neither.”

He exhaled slowly, flicking his cigarette into the dirt before pushing off the car. “Who pissed you off?”

You shook your head. “It’s not like that.”

Rafe frowned, stepping closer. He wasn’t good at this—comfort, softness, whatever this was. But something about you sitting there, looking so damn breakable, made his chest tighten.

So he did the only thing he knew how. He tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “Then what’s it like?”

Your lips parted, eyes flickering across his face like you were trying to decide if you could trust him. Then, finally—

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I just feel… empty.”

Rafe swallowed hard. He knew that feeling.

So he didn’t say anything, didn’t try to fix it. He just brushed his thumb against your cheek, smudging the last bit of mascara away, and leaned in—close enough for you to feel his breath, close enough for you to know you weren’t alone.

And for the first time in his life, Rafe Cameron didn’t want to be anywhere else.