Rafe was miserable. Absolutely, completely, fucking miserable.

You had been gone for two weeks. Two long, torturous weeks on some vacation with your dad, and Rafe had been left behind in Outer Banks, stewing in his own impatience. He hadn’t realized just how much he relied on having you around—until you weren’t.

His friends were sick of hearing about it.

“Bro, you act like she moved to another country,” Topper groaned, watching as Rafe paced back and forth outside the Country Club, gripping his phone like it personally offended him.

“Might as well have,” Rafe snapped. He had already checked the time difference (none), the flight time home (two hours), and your last text (sent 17 minutes ago, not fast enough).

Kelce smirked. “Dude, you’re acting crazy.”

“I am crazy,” Rafe shot back, running a hand through his hair, agitation evident in every movement. “Two fucking weeks without her, man. I can’t—” He exhaled sharply. “I can’t fucking do this.”

His restlessness had bled into everything. He was impulsive—more than usual. Spent too much money. Drank too much. Got into unnecessary fights, just to feel something. Nothing helped. Nothing filled the gaping hole your absence left.

“You see how down bad you are?” Topper teased.

Rafe glared. “Say one more word, and I’ll make sure you don’t get to talk for a week.”

But the second his phone dinged, all his aggression melted into desperate excitement. He unlocked it so fast he nearly dropped the damn thing.

Baby: Boarding the plane now. See you soon.

Rafe’s lips twitched up into a smirk.

“Finally.”