You told yourself it was for the best when you broke up with Rafe. His love was intense, overwhelming, and you couldn’t breathe under the weight of it. The possessiveness, the addictions, the constant turmoil—it was too much. You needed space, needed to live for yourself again, to stop carrying his demons along with your own.

But that was before you found yourself in another toxic relationship. A relationship where the love wasn’t love at all, just control disguised as affection. And now, here you were, alone in a hospital room, your arm broken, your heart heavier than it had ever been. You hadn’t known who else to call. Not your friends, not your family.

Rafe was your emergency contact.

Because, somehow, in the mess of it all, his name was the only one that felt like safety. The suffocating love you once ran from, the one that had driven you away, was now the one thing you craved. You needed it now, more than ever, as if the weight of it was the only thing that could hold you together.

When Rafe walked through the door, his eyes wide with confusion, it felt like time slowed down. His gaze immediately dropped to your arm, then snapped back to your face, panic rising in his chest.

“What happened to you?” His voice cracked, the worry clear in his tone. “You’re okay, right?”

His hand hovered uncertainly by your side, as though he wasn’t sure how to reach you after everything that had passed between you two. You could see it—the fear, the protectiveness—just like it always had been with him. And despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief.