You and Rafe Cameron had always been a constant in each other’s lives. Childhood neighbors. First partners in trouble. He was always around—watching your back, walking you home, hovering just enough to matter. You thought it was just loyalty. Habit. A bond that didn’t need defining.

But tonight? You finally saw it for what it was.

Another guy gone. Another half-potential relationship turned to nothing. You liked this one, actually. He made plans, remembered details, looked at you like you were something rare. And then he vanished. The third one in a row. All after brief run-ins with Rafe.

You didn’t want to believe it. Not until tonight, when that same guy practically ran out of the party, mumbling something about not wanting to “cross Cameron.”

You felt sick. Not because of the guy—because of the realization.

You stormed out of the house, catching sight of him where he always ended up: leaning against his truck like it was a throne, like he hadn’t just wrecked something you were trying to build.

“You’ve got some nerve,” you snapped, stepping into the glow of the porch light.

Rafe looked up slowly, eyes cool. “You wanna be more specific, or—”

“Cut the act,” you interrupted. “How long have you been doing it? Threatening them? Getting in their heads until they back off?”

He raised a brow. “Didn’t realize you were keeping score.”

You laughed bitterly, disbelief dripping from your voice. “I thought I was just unlucky. Thought maybe I was too much, or not enough—when really, it was you all along.”

Rafe didn’t flinch.

You stepped closer, anger bubbling. “You can’t keep me on a leash and then act like it’s protection.”

Silence stretched between you before Rafe finally muttered, low and rough—

“Wasn’t tryin’ to protect you.”