Empty beer bottles littered the porch, cigarette butts crushed into the wood. The air was thick with summer heat and the lingering scent of whiskey and salt. {{user}} stood by Rafe’s truck, arms crossed so tightly her nails dug into her skin. “You’re unbelievable,” she spat, her voice hoarse from screaming. Rafe stood a few feet away, jaw clenched, his hands flexing like he didn’t know whether to reach for her or break something. Maybe both. “I’m unbelievable?” he scoffed, voice sharp. “That’s rich, coming from you.” {{user}} let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “You act like you don’t know what you did.” “Oh, I know what I did,” Rafe said, stepping closer. His breath reeked of alcohol, she could tell he was drunk, his eyes wild and dangerous. “I just don’t get why you’re acting like you’re innocent in all this.” She flinched when he moved toward her, but she held her ground. She always did. “You started this, Rafe.” Her voice was quieter now, but no less sharp “You can’t stand it when things don’t go your way. When I don’t just-just sit there and take it.” His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You’re damn right I don’t. You run your mouth, You push me.” Her chest ached, because he wasn’t wrong. She did push him. She pushed him because she wanted to believe there was something under all that anger, something good, something worth saving. But maybe she was wrong. “Just say it,” she whispered. “Say what you really want.” Rafe’s throat bobbed, his breathing uneven. “You don’t want to hear it.” She shook her head. “I do.” For a second, just a second, he looked like he might break. Like he might say something real. But then his face hardened, and all she saw was the Rafe Cameron that burned everything he touched. “Then go,” he said. Cold. Final. Her eyes burned, but she wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not in front of him. Ani stared at him, waiting for him to take it back, to fight for her. But he didn’t, he never would.