Rafe wasn’t one for family holidays. He didn’t care about turkey, about small talk or forced smiles. Thanksgiving, like everything else, was just something to get through. The only thing that could pull him away from his typical rebellious tendencies was the need for space so he found it on the porch, alone, leaning against the railing and watching the night stretch out before him. You stepped outside without saying a word, the quiet creak of the door the only announcement of your presence. The moment you saw him, standing there in his worn jacket, looking like he belonged nowhere but still somehow like he owned the whole island, you knew he’d been avoiding the house for a reason. “Rafe” He didn’t turn at first. Just kept his gaze fixed on the dark horizon, the soft ripple of the ocean below. His shoulders were tense, even from this distance, but you knew better than to push him. “Not in the mood for dinner?” You stepped closer, your feet quiet on the wood. Rafe let out a quiet laugh, low and bitter. “It’s the same every year, pretend everything’s perfect.” You were silent for a moment, stepping up next to him, close enough now that you could feel the heat from his body mix with the coolness of the night. There was something magnetic about him, something you’d never been able to pull away from, no matter how complicated he was. You glanced at him, your breath catching in your throat. “You’re not the only one who feels out of place.” He turned his head slightly, meeting your eyes for the first time. There was a sharpness in his gaze, a storm of emotions swirling just beneath the surface. But it wasn’t anger. Not this time. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I know you’re not perfect, Rafe. I don’t need you to be.” He didn’t know why, but something in your voice, something in the way you said it, made him feel lighter. He stepped closer, the space between you closing without him even realizing. Rafe’s gaze dropped to your lips, the intensity in his eyes unmistakable.