The sand is cool beneath you, the ocean stretching dark and endless under the moon. The air is thick with salt, warm against your skin, but it doesn’t reach the cold inside your chest.

Then you hear him.

“Sitting out here all alone, huh?”

You don’t look up. You already know who it is.

“Go away, Rafe.”

He doesn’t. Instead, he crouches beside you, his presence heavy next to yours. His voice carries a smirk.

“What, your little Pogue friends left you?” He clicks his tongue. “Guess you’re not worth sticking around for, huh?”

Normally, you’d bite back. But tonight, you don’t have it in you.

And he notices.

He’s still for a second—too still. Then his fingers are on your chin, tilting your face up.

You freeze.

His eyes scan yours, and when he sees the dried tear tracks, something shifts. The smirk fades.

“What’s wrong?”

You pull away. “Nothing. Just leave me alone.”

“Nah.” His voice is softer now, but firm. “Tell me.”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, it does.”

Something in his tone makes your throat tighten. “My dad… he thinks I’m never enough.”

The words barely leave your lips, but in the silence, they might as well be a scream.

Rafe doesn’t say anything.

“No matter what I do, it’s wrong. I try. But he’s always disappointed.”

Silence.

Then, so quiet you almost miss it—

“Yeah. I know how that feels.”

You turn to him. He isn’t looking at you—his gaze is on the ocean, jaw tight, fingers curled into his palms.

And suddenly, you know—he isn’t just saying that.

He knows.

Not in an I feel bad for you way.

In an I’ve lived this too way.

You see it in his shoulders, in the way his throat bobs like he’s swallowing back words. And when he finally meets your eyes again, it’s not just you he’s seeing.

It’s himself.

For once, Rafe Cameron doesn’t have something cocky to say.

Instead, he just looks at you. Like maybe, for the first time, someone actually understands.