ᯓ★ You and Rafe Cameron were never exactly stable.

Rafe was the kind of guy who lived fast and thought later—late nights, reckless choices, saying whatever felt right in the moment and dealing with the damage after.

But with you, it had felt different.

At first.

He’d text you all day, call late at night, show up outside your house honking his truck like he owned the street. He’d sling an arm around your shoulders at bonfires, glare when other guys talked to you, kiss your forehead when he thought no one was looking.

He never called it love.

But he acted close enough to it that you believed maybe it was.

Then your period was late.

And late.

And late.

You sat in the tiny bathroom staring at the test in your shaking hands, heart pounding so loud it drowned everything else out.

Positive.

You called him three times before he answered.

“What?” he said distractedly, music loud in the background.

“Rafe… I need to tell you something.”

The silence in your voice must’ve hit him, because the music got quieter.

“What happened?”

You swallowed hard. “I’m pregnant.”

Nothing.

Then finally—

“…You serious?”

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you.

“Yes.”

Another long pause.

Then suddenly he was talking fast.

“Okay. Okay, don’t freak out, alright? We’ll figure it out.”

And for a little while, he meant it.

He came over the next day with snacks you didn’t ask for and sat beside you on the bed, bouncing his knee nervously.

He said stuff like, “It’s gonna be fine,” and, “I got money,” and, “My dad doesn’t need to know yet.”

He’d rest a hand on your stomach like it made it real and then pull it back like it scared him.

He still texted. Still called. Still showed up.

Until reality started getting closer. Doctor appointments. What would people say. Ward Cameron finding out. His coke addiction.

Suddenly his replies got slower. Then shorter. Then days apart. You’d call and it would ring out.

You’d text Are you okay? and get back Busy.

When you finally caught him at the country club parking lot, he looked annoyed before he looked guilty.

You stood in front of his truck. “Why are you ignoring me?”

“I’m not ignoring you.”

“You haven’t spoken to me in a week.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, already irritated.

“I got shit going on.”

“So do I, Rafe.”

His jaw tightened. “Yeah, well… I didn’t sign up for this.”

The words hit harder than yelling ever could. You stared at him.

“At first you said we’d figure it out.”

“I thought I could,” he snapped, then lowered his voice. “I’m not ready for this, okay?”

Cars moved in the distance. People laughed near the clubhouse. Everything around you kept going like your world hadn’t just tilted.