You and Rafe had been a thing for a while now. Mostly over the phone, because you were a famous model, always flying somewhere new, and the Outer Banks wasn’t exactly the place to keep your career burning bright. So you kept your relationship alive through late-night calls and endless voice notes.
Rafe would call whenever he could. Sometimes from the deck of the Druthers, salt in his hair and sun on his skin, telling you how much he missed you. Other times it was from his truck, his voice soft in the darkness, describing how everything felt emptier without you around.
Tonight, you were bone-tired. After hours under hot lights and countless wardrobe changes, you finally peeled the makeup off your face and pulled on a faded t-shirt. You sank onto the edge of the hotel bed, phone in hand, thumb hovering over Rafe’s contact. Just hearing his voice would be enough to lull you to sleep.
But before you could call, a knock at your hotel door startled you. You hesitated, heart quickening. You weren’t expecting anyone.
You padded over and cracked the door open—and there he was. Rafe, in the flesh. His sun-bleached hair messy, a sly grin tugging at his lips, and a bunch of slightly wilted flowers clutched in his hand.
You gasped. “What—? Rafe, what are you doing here?”
He chuckled, stepping forward, and the hallway light caught the softness in his eyes. “I missed you too,” he murmured, voice low and real and right there. Before you could say anything else, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, his chin resting lightly on your hair.
At first, your mind still buzzed with shock, but it melted as your arms slipped around his waist. The tiredness, the loneliness, the distance—all of it seemed to fade away in his embrace.
In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the missed calls, not the thousands of miles you usually kept between you.
Because tonight, you wouldn’t have to fall asleep with his voice on the phone.
Tonight, he’d be right next to you.