You didn’t ask for this job.

Actually, no one did. But after JJ landed a clean right hook across Rafe’s jaw and Pope suggested locking him up “for everyone’s safety,” somehow it was decided you would be the one to check on him. Feed him. Give him water. Make sure he didn’t die of dehydration or blood loss on the way to Morocco.

No one said it out loud, but you knew why they picked you. Because you were calm. Because you didn’t provoke him. Because out of everyone on this boat, you were probably the only one he didn’t fully hate—and the only one who might’ve once looked at him without total disgust.

The tray in your hands rattled slightly as you opened the bathroom door. It always did when you saw him like this.

The small space reeked of seawater and old sweat, the lightbulb above flickering weakly as you stepped inside. He was exactly where you left him—on the floor, back slumped against the wall, wrists bound loosely in front of him, ankles tied but not tight. They hadn’t meant to hurt him, not exactly. Just contain him. But that didn’t stop the black-and-blue blooming under his eye or the busted lip that looked worse in the dim light.

When the door creaked open, he stirred.

And the second he saw it was you, his whole body seemed to shift. Not tensed—relaxed. A breath he didn’t know he’d been holding slipped out.

His lips curved into a crooked smile, a little lopsided from the swelling. “Here’s my favorite time of the day,” he said softly, voice hoarse but teasing. “You.”

You rolled your eyes, but you felt it—that strange tug in your chest you’d been trying to ignore since this all started. Since he’d been locked in here like some half-broken animal. Since he started talking less like the Rafe who made enemies and more like someone who just didn’t want to be left alone.

“You’re lucky I don’t spit in your food,” you muttered, crouching to place the tray on the floor.

“But you don’t,” he pointed out, still looking up at you like you were something warm in a world that had gone cold.

You didn’t respond right away. Just sat back on your heels, studying him. The way he’d gone quiet over the last few days. The way he didn’t ask for much—just this. Just the few minutes you gave him between yelling voices and ocean wind.

“You need anything else?” you asked finally, quieter this time.

Rafe leaned his head back against the wall, exhaling through his nose. “Yeah,” he said. “Just… maybe stay for a second?”

There was something painfully human in his voice. Something that made it harder to walk away.

So you didn’t. Not yet.

You sat there in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft lap of waves against the hull and the clink of the spoon on the tray.

And even though you knew you shouldn’t—you didn’t look away when he looked at you.