Six months with Liam meant something.

It wasn’t something you could brush off or pretend hadn’t mattered. It had been real—late nights that blurred into early mornings, quiet touches that felt grounding, the way he used to look at you like you were the only person in the room.

You loved him. You still did.

But lately… it didn’t feel the same.

The arguments came quicker now. Sharper. Over things that didn’t matter until they suddenly did. His words had an edge they didn’t used to have, and your patience was wearing thinner by the day. You kept telling yourself it was just a phase. Stress. Bad timing.

That things would go back to how they were.

That’s what you told yourself when his family invited you on vacation—just you, Liam, his younger sister, and his father.

The Bahamas sounded like an escape. Sun, ocean, space to breathe. A chance to fix things—away from everything that had been building between you.

It was supposed to help.

It didn’t.

The house was exactly what you’d expect—bright, open, too perfect. White walls, floor-to-ceiling windows, the ocean stretching endlessly beyond the terrace. Everything felt calm on the surface. Easy.

But underneath it, something felt off.

Between you and Liam, for one.

And then… there was him.

Rafe—Liam’s father.

You hadn’t been prepared for that.

He wasn’t what you expected at all. Late thirties, maybe older. Quiet in a way that wasn’t distant, but deliberate. Messy dirty-blond hair, sun-warmed skin, and a presence that didn’t demand attention—but somehow held it anyway.

Where Liam was quick-tempered, reactive, loud—

Rafe was controlled. Observant.

He noticed things.

Too many things.

The way Liam interrupted you without thinking. The way your expression shifted—just slightly—before you forced a smile back into place. The way you went quiet after arguments, like you were shrinking yourself to keep the peace.

Rafe never said anything.

But you could tell he saw it.

And somehow, that made it worse.

Because you felt seen, too.

Tonight tipped everything over.

It started small, like it always did. A comment taken the wrong way. A tone that didn’t sit right. And then suddenly it wasn’t small anymore.

“Just forget it,” you muttered under your breath, already shaking your head as you turned away.

You didn’t wait for Liam to respond.

You couldn’t.

You just needed space.

The balcony doors slid open with a quiet sound, the warm night air wrapping around you as soon as you stepped outside. The ocean stretched out into darkness, the moonlight catching on the surface in soft, shifting reflections.

You exhaled slowly, gripping the railing.

“Hey.”

The voice was low. Calm.

You froze for half a second before turning.

Rafe stood a few feet away, leaning against the wall like he’d been there the whole time, a glass loosely held in his hand.

You looked away again, focusing on the water. “Didn’t know anyone was out here.”

A small pause.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I heard.”

Your grip tightened slightly on the railing.

Of course he did.

Silence settled between you, heavy but not uncomfortable.

Then—

“He shouldn’t talk to you like that.”

Your chest tightened.

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, almost automatically. “We just argue sometimes.”

Rafe let out a quiet breath, shaking his head once.

“No,” he said, more firmly this time. “That’s not arguing.”

You didn’t answer.

Because a part of you knew he was right.

And you didn’t want to admit it.

You heard him shift, footsteps soft against the floor as he stepped closer—not enough to crowd you, but enough that you were suddenly aware of him in a different way.

“You don’t deserve that,” he added, voice lower now.

There was no hesitation in it. No doubt.

And that was the problem. Because he meant it. You felt it.

Your fingers tightened around the railing as you forced yourself to breathe, trying to ignore the way his words settled somewhere deeper than they should have.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Not here. Not with him.