Valentine’s Day wasn’t Rafe Cameron’s thing.

The pink balloons, cheap candy hearts, and over-the-top gestures felt fake—another excuse for people to pretend they were something they weren’t. Love wasn’t neat and tied up with a bow. It was messy, complicated, and sometimes ugly. Just like him.

But there he was, standing outside her door with a crumpled gas station bouquet and his heart pounding like he’d been shot.

You weren’t like the girls he’d dated before. You didn’t fall for smooth lines or get distracted by the shiny things his last name could buy. You saw through the charm, the money, the arrogance—and stuck around anyway. That terrified him more than anything else.

They’d been fighting a lot lately. Rafe didn’t know how to handle feelings without turning them into anger. And you didn’t know how to back down. Their arguments were sharp, cutting into places neither of them wanted to admit were tender.

But it was Valentine’s Day, and even though Rafe thought it was stupid, he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he didn’t show up tonight, he’d lose her for good.

He knocked.

When you opened the door, you looked surprised—not the good kind. Your arms were crossed, your face unreadable.

Rafe swallowed hard. “I… uh…” He looked down at the pathetic bouquet in his hand. The flowers were half-wilted, the plastic wrapping crinkled and cheap. Perfect, he thought bitterly. He shoved them toward her anyway. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

You stared at the flowers, then back at him. “Is this a joke?”

Rafe felt his temper flare, but he swallowed it down. For once, he didn’t want to mess this up. “No. It’s not a joke. I just… I don’t know how to be good at this,” he admitted quietly. His voice was rough, like it hurt to say the words out loud. “I’m not good at—whatever this is supposed to be. But I’m trying.”