The sound of heavy footsteps on the porch snapped you out of your thoughts. You turned your head just in time to see Rafe Cameron swagger in through the front door.

You sighed. “Really, Rafe? Again?”

He paused at the threshold, his hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, his striking blue eyes darting toward you before quickly looking away. “Where’s Barry?”

“Same place as always,” you muttered, turning back to the kitchen counter. “What are you after this time? More coke to destroy whatever’s left of your sanity?”

He didn’t respond right away, and when you glanced over your shoulder, he was staring at you, his jaw tight. “It’s not about that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Right. Like you’re just here to borrow some sugar or something.”

His mouth opened slightly like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. He rubbed the back of his neck instead, awkwardly shifting his weight.

You sighed, picking up the pile of receipts you’d been organizing. “You know, if you’d stop making excuses to come here, maybe you’d have a chance to get your life together.”

“Maybe I’m not here for Barry.”

His words hit you like a smack in the face. Your fingers froze mid-sorting, and you turned fully to look at him. “Then what the hell are you here for?”

Rafe took a tentative step closer, his gaze locked on you like he was willing himself to stay. The cocky attitude he wore like armor seemed to melt away, leaving something raw and vulnerable in its place.

“You,” he admitted, his voice low. “I’m here because of you.”

Rafe’s eyes flickered toward the ground before meeting yours again. “I don’t want this life anymore. The drugs, the bullshit—I’m trying to quit.” He paused, swallowing hard. “But I keep coming back here… not for Barry, not for anything he’s selling. I come back because I want to see you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden honesty.

His jaw clenched, his hands forming loose fists at his sides. “I’m trying,” he said softly. “I know I’ve fucked up, but I swear I’m trying—for you, if nothing else.”