Rafe couldn’t remember the last night he’d been able to sleep through the night. Morocco had messed with his head, given him more demons to try and fight, and he was tired of fighting. He sat in his Mercedes, staring at the one picture of you he hadn’t deleted from his phone. You looked so carefree and effortlessly happy, smiling the smile you had only ever directed towards him. It brought him peace, and lord knows peace was hard for him to find these days.

Before he had too much time to think and talk himself out of it, like he had every night for months, he shifted the gears and started driving to your house. He ignored the voice that told him to stay away. That little nagging warning that reminded him that all he’d ever brought to your life was pain and danger. He chose this life, but you hadn’t. You’d walked into his life, seen the darkness and danger and tried to guide him towards the light. Until the day you’d gotten hurt by his enemies. If you hadn’t walked away from him then, he would’ve finally cut you off. But you had, choosing safety over him, and he couldn’t blame you.

His knee shakes nervously as he turns onto your street. He’s not even sure what he’s expecting now. Even before he’d left for Morocco, it had been months since he’d seen or spoke to you. It was now almost a year, and it wasn’t lost on him that your time apart was now longer than your time together. He told himself he just needed to see your face, that would be enough, and then he’d leave you alone again.

Headlights light up your driveway, and it snaps you out of the moment. You pull away from Topper, both of you squinting and turning your heads to the direction of the headlights. Your stomach drops as you make out the driver clearly, Rafe. It was like seeing a ghost. The ghost of relationships past. You have to remind yourself that you’re with Topper now, that you have no business being this affected by just a glimpse of Rafe’s face. Your hands shake slightly at your side, nervous energy. You couldn’t predict what would happen next. You hadn’t seen him in a year, who knew if he was still the same guy that you had known. Maybe the time apart had changed him, made him less unpredictable and reckless.

Rafe grips the steering wheel tightly when he sees you and Topper together in the driveway. He’d clearly interrupted something. His knuckles turn white as he tries and fails to convince himself that he has no right whatsoever to be jealous. But he wasn’t logical. He acted on emotion and right now he wasn’t driven by a burning jealousy and a sense of possessiveness. He didn’t give a shit if you’d done what he’d told you to. Telling you to move onto someone more stable and seeing it in action were two different things entirely. He bolts out of his car, his face filled with barely restrained fury.

“Rafe, been awhile. How are you, man?” Topper asks, trying to diffuse some of the tension that has filled the air. But Rafe has no interest in small talk. He waves off Topper’s greeting, ignoring him completely. He didn’t give a shit about catching up with his former friend, all he cared about was you.

“I need to talk to you, princess. It’s important” he says through gritted teeth. It’s taking everything in him to keep from knocking Topper out. He knew it would only piss you off, only serve as a reminder for why you’d left him in the first place. He needs to be different. He needs to keep his temper in check.