Rafe Cameron never thought someone could walk away from him and leave him gasping for air. He was used to being the one people clung to, even when they shouldn’t, but you were different. You didn’t beg, didn’t call, didn’t chase. When you left, you really left. And now, your absence clung to him like a shadow he couldn’t escape.

He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter, that your absence was insignificant. After all, you were just a phase, a fleeting distraction in the chaos of his life. But late at night, when the house was quiet and the silence pressed in, he could feel the shape of your absence like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

He saw you out once, at The Wreck, laughing with your friends like nothing had changed. Like he had never existed. It was a dagger to his chest, watching you move through life so unaffected while his felt hollow and unbearable. He didn’t even try to approach you. What would he say? That he missed you? That he hated how you weren’t hurting like he was?

Days turned into weeks, and the tension inside him grew unbearable. He stayed up later, drank more, avoided his friends. His absence didn’t seem to touch you, but yours was unraveling him. It was worse than anything he could have prepared for.

Rafe sat on the porch of Tannyhill one night, staring at his phone. Your number was still saved, and the last text you sent was still there. A simple “Goodbye,” and yet it carried more weight than anything he’d ever read. He hated how it lingered in his mind, how your voice still echoed in his thoughts.

He finally called, the dial tone dragging out longer than it should have. His hands shook as he hung up before it could connect. What would it change? You didn’t miss him the way he missed you. And that was what hurt the most.