The night’s been a disaster from start to finish. You’d agreed to this party thinking it would be a good distraction, maybe even a chance to get back into the swing of things. But now here you are—stranded with no phone, no ride, and a growing sense of regret for not trusting your instincts. The rain pours in thick sheets, soaking through your clothes as you stand beneath the dim porch light, cursing yourself for not leaving sooner.

A car pulls up, headlights cutting through the downpour. You don’t need to see who it is to know. The low hum of the engine, the familiar beat of a song you used to hear on late-night drives—it’s him.

Rafe leans over, popping open the passenger door. “Get in.”

That voice cuts through the static of your frustration—deep, calm, and irritatingly confident as ever. You don’t even have to look up to know it’s Rafe. The last person you wanted to see tonight, and yet the only one you can rely on.

The breakup between you two is still raw, the hurt simmering just beneath the surface. Every nerve in your body screams to just say no, to find another way home even if it means walking. But Rafe, being who he is, isn’t exactly asking. His hand is already moving to unlock the passenger door, fingers drumming against the wheel like he has all the time in the world.

Like he knows you’ll cave.

You swallow hard, shifting on your feet. “I don’t need your help.”

Rafe raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Yeah? You planning on waiting for someone else, or are you just gonna stand there and catch pneumonia?”

You glare at him, but the truth stings. You’re drenched, cold, and exhausted from the night’s mess. The party was supposed to be fun—a distraction, not a reminder of how lost you feel without him.

“Come on, just get in.” His voice is softer this time, almost coaxing. “I’ll take you home.”