It had been almost a week since you’d stormed out of Rafe’s place, the silence between you growing heavier with each passing day.

You were sprawled on the worn floral sofa, a dog-eared copy of a Tiger Beat magazine fanned open on your chest, though your eyes barely registered the glossy images of pop heartthrobs. He denied not loving you, but words were cheap, and his actions – or lack thereof – spoke volumes.

The soft, rhythmic tap-tap-tap on the window startled you. You slowly turned your head. Your breath hitched.

Standing on your porch, framed by the rain-streaked glass, was Rafe. He was a familiar silhouette against the grey afternoon light, his usually slicked-back hair falling boyishly across his forehead, damp from the persistent drizzle.

Your first instinct was to ignore him, to turn away and pretend you hadn’t seen him, just as you’d ignored his frantic calls all week.

You slowly rose, walking to the window. He didn’t move, just watched you, the roses held out like a fragile offering.

“What do you want, Rafe?” you asked, your voice muffled by the glass, but sharp enough to convey your irritation.

He pressed his palm flat against the pane, then pointed an insistent finger towards the front door. You hesitated, then sighed, a long, weary sound, and moved towards the entryway. The cold air rushed in as you unlatched the deadbolt, shivering slightly as you opened the door just enough for him to see you clearly.

“These are for you,” he said, his voice rough, pushing the bouquet forward. The white roses, delicate and pure, seemed a stark contrast to his rugged appearance.

You didn’t take them immediately. “Roses, Rafe? After a week of silence? What, did you run out of things to not say?”

He flinched, his gaze dropping to the flowers. “Look, I know… I know I messed up. Again.” He ran a hand through his damp hair. “I’m not good at this, you know? The words. They just don’t come out right.” He gestured vaguely with his free hand. “But that doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to maintain your hard shell. “Then what do you feel, Rafe? Because all I felt was like I was talking to a wall. Like I was asking for something you weren’t willing to give.”

His eyes were filled with a raw, desperate sincerity that almost cracked your resolve. “I feel like an idiot, okay? I feel like I lose my damn mind whenever you’re mad at me, whenever you’re not around. I feel like half of me is missing.”

“I know that I was an ass. And I love you.” He rarely, if ever, said them. “I never stopped loving you. Not for a second. Even when you walked out, even when you made me feel like the biggest fool on the Outer Banks.” He finally held the roses out fully. “Please. Just… take these. They’re dumb. I know. But it’s the only way I know how to say… I care. I care about you more than anything.”