The phone call had woken you up from a restless sleep. 2:30 AM. Good news never came that late, so you’d barely been surprised when you picked up and learned that Rafe had gotten into a bar fight. Again. This was the second time this week. The fifth since your breakup.

Sooner or later you needed to stop showing up for him. You had to start letting him figure things out for himself. But tonight wasn’t that night, you didn’t have it in you to leave him there. You had too many good memories tied up with him. So you’d hastily thrown on some clothes and driven to the bar on the edge of town.

You pushed through the bars double doors, your eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. You tried to ignore the leers from the other bar patrons as you made your way to the section of the bar where your ex boyfriend was seated. You could see the bruises starting to form on his cheek, and you let out a sigh. Oh, Rafe

“Your designated driver is here” you say when you reach him, your tone firm and no nonsense.

“Baby!” The scowl he’d been wearing turned into a grin when he saw you. That damn grin. It still got to you. Even now when you were furious with him. You should hate him for promising forever and snatching it back, but here you were.

“Don’t baby me. You’re lucky I’m even here. Another fight Rafe, really?” You cross your arms as you glare at him.

“You always come” he drawls, his words slurring together. “Do you remember happy together? I do” He stood up from the stool, his eyes darkening as they raked over your body. He missed you. He wanted nothing more than to touch you, kiss you, claim you as his again.

“You are very drunk. I’m surprised you even remember your own name” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

“Not that drunk” Rafe grunts, his breath ghosting over your skin. “I know you said we’re not talking, but I miss you. I’m sorry” This was the only time he felt he could be honest with you, late at night with him emboldened by alcohol. It was the only time he let himself be open with his feelings.