You were sitting on the porch, waiting for Rafe, as the sun dipped lower behind the trees. The sound of his truck’s engine cut through the quiet, tires screeching as he pulled into the driveway. You could smell the mix of cigarette smoke and something stronger when he staggered up the steps, looking disheveled and distant.

“Hey,” you greeted him softly.

“Hey,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes. “You still here?”

“Where else would I be?” you replied, trying to ignore the hurt simmering inside. His gaze softened for a brief second before he snapped it back into place.

“You could be out with JJ,” he said bitterly.

You shook your head. “I’m not going anywhere. Not with you like this.”

Rafe scoffed. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” you said, stepping closer. “You need help, Rafe.”

He stiffened, avoiding your touch. “I don’t need you to fix me.”

“I’m not trying to fix you. I just want you to stop hurting yourself.”

There was a long silence before Rafe reached out, pulling you into an unexpected hug. You could feel the tension in his body, but he held you tighter than usual.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered.

“Neither do I,” you admitted, “but we’ll figure it out together.”

For a moment, the weight of everything seemed to lift. Just for a moment, it was enough.