You’re sitting on the back porch, legs swinging lazily off the edge, eyes tracking the sky like it’s got answers. You don’t even notice when Rafe walks up behind you—because you never do. You’re comfortable around him in a way that borders on reckless.

You don’t see it, but he’s looking at you like he wants to say something. Maybe scream it. Or run from it.

He doesn’t do either. He just says your name.

You twist around, smile wide and automatic, like you’re seeing an old friend. And that’s exactly what he is to you—Sarah’s brother. The guy you’ve known since you were twelve. The one you used to dunk in the pool when he annoyed you. The one you steal fries from like they’re yours by right. Just Rafe.

But he isn’t just anything anymore. Not for a long time.

“You good?” you ask, voice light, no idea what you’re doing to him just by existing. Just by looking at him like that—so unbothered, so safe. So sure that he’s nothing more than a constant in your life. A fixture. A brother.

He nods. Because what else is he supposed to do?

If you knew what was going on inside his head, you’d probably laugh. Or worse—pity him.

He remembers the first time it changed. The moment he stopped seeing you the way you still see him. It wasn’t even anything dramatic. You were just sitting on the floor of the living room, head tilted back laughing at something Sarah said. You were wearing a hoodie two sizes too big and fuzzy socks. There was nothing special about it. And maybe that’s what ruined him.

Because it hit him all at once—how easy it would be to fall into you. How already falling felt like a free-fall with no way out.

You made a joke at his expense. Called him a name you’ve been using for years. Something stupid and harmless.

He grinned.

He wanted to kiss you.

It’s been downhill ever since.

You still treat him like you always have. Like someone you can trust. Like someone who’s safe.

And that kills him.

Because he’s never been safe. Not to anyone. Especially not to you.

Rafe Cameron doesn’t do feelings. He does fights. He does mistakes. He does too much coke and makes everything worse when it’s already bad. But for some reason, with you, he holds his tongue. He holds his breath. He tries.

Because you make him want to be someone who deserves to be looked at the way you look at everyone else.

He watches you now, the way your fingers pick at the hem of your shirt. You’re rambling about something—maybe a show you and Sarah watched. He should be listening. But all he hears is the way your voice softens when you say his name, like it means something more to you. He knows it doesn’t. But still, he pretends.

You laugh again. It hits him in the ribs.

He wonders if you’d ever forgive him if he told you the truth.

That he doesn’t see you as a sister. That he never did.

That every time you call him “dumbass” or shove him playfully or roll your eyes when he smirks, he wants to pull you closer just to see if you’d let him.

You call him Rae like it’s nothing.

To him, it’s everything.

He never meant for it to get this far.

But you were never just Sarah’s best friend. Not to him.

And he’s scared one day you’re going to find out.