You and Rafe Cameron had been a storm from the very beginning.

You grew up in the same circles, crossed paths too many times to count — parties on the beach, late-night bonfires, reckless decisions that always ended with Rafe flashing that half-smile and you pretending not to fall for it. You were the same age, both stubborn to a fault, both too proud to ever admit when you needed someone.

It was never supposed to be serious. You told yourself that more times than you could remember.

And then everything changed when you found out you were pregnant.

Neither of you were ready. Rafe was spiraling with his family falling apart, pressure mounting from Ward’s expectations, Sarah running off. You were barely holding yourself together, torn between wanting to build a real future and wanting to run.

At first, Rafe panicked. He said the wrong things, ran off at the worst times, slammed too many doors. You almost did it alone. Almost.

But Rafe surprised you. Slowly, painfully, he started showing up. Doctor’s appointments. Buying the crib. Pacing the hospital waiting room the night you went into labor, white-knuckled and terrified. He was still Rafe — rough around the edges, a little too quick to anger — but he was trying. And somehow, that counted for something.

The air inside the Cameron’s house was heavy, thick with the leftover tension from your last fight. You stood at the kitchen counter, bouncing your baby gently on your hip, while Rafe rifled through the fridge like he was looking for answers hidden behind cartons of orange juice.

“Where’s the formula?” he muttered, tossing aside a loaf of bread.

You exhaled sharply. “Top cabinet. Same place it always is. You live here, Rafe. Maybe try paying attention for once.”

He grunted, grabbing the can with rough fingers, then softening when he turned and caught sight of her—your sweet child, cheeks flushed from the heat, tiny hands reaching out toward him.

Rafe leaned against the counter, arms crossed, tension tight in his shoulders. “You don’t have to stay the night,” he muttered, eyes flicking up at you. “I got it.”