You wake up, tangled in the soft sheets of Rafe's bed, the faint scent of cologne still lingering in the air. The Pelican Yacht Club had been busier than usual last night, and by the end of your shift, you’d found yourself here—again. It's becoming a pattern, though neither of you has spoken about it.

Slipping out of bed, you dress quickly, running your fingers through your hair before padding downstairs. The sound of Rafe’s voice, low and tense, drifts through the hallway. You pause just outside the door to the living room, listening.

“I get it, okay?” he snaps, clearly talking on the phone. “But if I don’t get this handled… I don’t know what the hell’s gonna happen.” His voice wavers slightly, and it's rare, hearing him like this—uncertain.

You step into the room quietly, spotting him standing by the window, one hand pressed to his temple as if the conversation is giving him a headache. His back is to you, but you can see the tension in his posture.

"Yeah, I'll figure it out," he mutters, his tone softening, but it’s strained, the stress clear. “Just… give me more time.”

You clear your throat lightly, and his head snaps up. He turns, eyes narrowing before softening when he realizes it's you. Quickly, he ends the call, shoving his phone into his pocket like he doesn’t want you to hear any more of it.

“Hey,” you say, moving closer, keeping your voice gentle. “Everything alright?”

Rafe looks at you for a long moment, his jaw tight, like he’s deciding whether to brush you off or let you in. Finally, he exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Just… business stuff. Nothing you need to worry about.”

You nod, though you can see through his attempt to downplay it. “You sure? You looked pretty stressed.”

“I’m fine,” he says quickly, but then his eyes meet yours, and for a split second, that wall he always keeps up wavers. He steps closer, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s just—things are complicated right now. You don't need to worry, pretty girl."