It wasn’t supposed to blow up like this.

You had only meant to stop by — a quick visit, quiet and unnoticed. But nothing stayed quiet in Tannyhill for long.

Ward’s voice echoed from the hallway before you even saw him. You could hear the fury in it, low and sharp, like something constantly boiling beneath the surface. Rafe had that same kind of heat in him, but when it came to you, it turned into something else entirely.

You stood up from the kitchen island the second Ward stepped in. He didn’t look surprised to see you. Just disappointed. Angry.

Rafe was right behind him.

Ward didn’t look at his son. Just shook his head. “After everything…”

That was all he said.

No yelling. No scene. Just a finality to his words that said this is the last straw.

Rafe didn’t say anything either. He stared at his father for a second too long — jaw tight, chest rising and falling slowly like he was trying to breathe through something that hurt.

Then he looked at you.

And that was it.

He reached for your hand, and you took it without hesitating. No one said a word as he led you past Ward, out the door, down the driveway, into the night.

You didn’t ask where you were going. You just went.

The truck door creaked as you climbed in. The silence between you was thick — not awkward, but charged. Rafe started the engine, pulled onto the road, and drove.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Then twenty.

No music. Just the hum of the engine and the rush of the wind.

Finally, Rafe turned off down an old dirt road, pulled up near the edge of the water, and killed the engine. The truck lights faded, and the world went still.

He didn’t look at you. Just stared out at the black horizon.

You watched the side of his face in the glow of the dashboard. The way his hands gripped the wheel. The way his chest rose like it still hadn’t settled.

Then—

“I didn’t know I was gonna do that.”

His voice cracked the silence, low and tired.

You didn’t speak. Just waited.

“I saw the way he looked at you,” he said. “Like you were something to be ashamed of. Like… like I was crazy for letting you in.”

He finally looked at you.

“And all I could think was—I’d rather lose everything than let him make you feel like you didn’t belong.”

Your throat tightened.

Rafe leaned back in the seat, hands dropping to his lap. He looked like he was coming undone in slow motion. Not in a dramatic, burning way—just… unraveling quietly.

“I don’t know who I am without all that shit,” he admitted. “Without Tannyhill, without the name, without the mask.”

He turned toward you, eyes glassy in the low light.

“But I want to figure it out. With you.”

You reached for him then—slowly, gently. Your fingers slid into his, and he squeezed like he needed it more than he knew how to say.

You rested your head on his shoulder. He tilted his cheek against your hair.

And for a while, the two of you just sat there—wrapped in the sound of the water, the night, and everything that had been left behind.