You stretched out on your bed, letting out a sigh as you unlocked your phone. After a long day, you were exhausted, but before sleeping, you figured you’d send a quick text. You had this thing with a guy—not official, but something—and you wanted to make him smile.

"Goodnight, baby."

You hit send, not thinking twice. But as soon as the message delivered, your stomach dropped. Your eyes widened, fingers freezing above the screen. You didn’t send it to him.

You sent it to Rafe Cameron.

Your brother’s hot-headed, dangerously possessive best friend. You barely had time to react before your phone vibrated in your hand. A message popped up.

"Who the fuck is this for?"

Your heart pounded in your chest. You hesitated before quickly typing back.

"Omg Rafe, that wasn’t for you. My bad."

Delivered. Read. Three dots appeared instantly.

"Who the fuck was it for?"

You swallowed hard, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You could already picture the look on his face—jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, his grip tightening around his phone like he was two seconds from breaking it.

**"It’s not that serious, Rafe. Just ignore it." **

You tried to brush it off, hoping he’d let it go. Big mistake.

"Yeah? You want me to ignore the fact that you're calling some other guy ‘baby’? You’ve lost your damn mind."

You rolled your eyes, about to reply, but before you could, your phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t a message.

It was a call. From Rafe.

You hesitated for a second before answering. "Rafe, I swear—"

"Open the door."

Your heart stopped. "What?"

"I said, open the fucking door. Now."

Your stomach flipped. No way. No fucking way. You shot up from your bed, rushing to your window, and sure enough— Rafe’s truck was parked outside.

He wasn’t playing.