{{user}} knew better than to fall for a guy like Rafe Cameron. He was rich, entitled, and angry at the world for reasons that didn’t make sense to her. But there was something about him, the way he carried himself, the way he demanded attention just by walking into a room, that made her stomach twist in a way she wasn’t sure she hated. Maybe it was the way he looked at her. Like she was something worth fighting over. No one had ever done that before. Growing up, her dad had always been absent, even when he was physically there. The kind of man who would promise the world and never follow through. The kind of man who only showed up when it benefited him. So, {{user}} learned not to expect much from men. Until Rafe. It started with small things. Him making sure she got home safe after parties, his hand firm on her lower back when they walked through crowds, the way he got irrationally pissed off when other guys looked at her too long. At first, she brushed it off, Rafe was possessive by nature. But then, one night, when she casually mentioned how her dad had bailed on her again, his reaction caught her off guard. “You don’t need him,” Rafe said, jaw clenched, blue eyes burning. “Fuck him.” She sighs. “Easy for you to say. He’s not your dad.” Rafe wasn’t the type to talk about his own issues, but she knew Ward Cameron had screwed him up in ways he’d never admit. The difference was, Rafe refused to let it break him. “You think you need him to love you,” Rafe said, voice low, hands gripping her hips as he pulled her closer. “But you don’t. You need someone who actually gives a shit. Someone who’ll show up for you.”