You rolled over, your hands searching for Rafe in your sleep, but all you touch is the rumpled sheets where he had been when you’d fallen asleep. You sit up, with a sigh. One glance at the nightstand on his side of the table confirms that his wallet and keys are gone. He’s gone again to wherever he goes late at night. You felt like he was slipping through your fingers. Every time you held onto him tighter, it felt like he pulled back more. You were starting to think maybe you had to learn to let him go.

Things had been different since he’d come back from Morocco. JJ had died. Rafe had formed some sort of tentative truce with the pogues, and none of them were saying anything. He spent more time in hushed conversations that stopped abruptly when you entered the room. He talked more to Kie than he did to you. Whatever had happened over there, had formed a bond between them. And you were left on the outside looking in, wondering where exactly you fit in your fiancé’s life now.

You’d seen back in high school the way that Rafe looked at her, like he liked her, wanted her. Then she’d switched schools and you had thought by the time you and Rafe got together in college, that it had just been some sort of unrequited crush.

You’d always been confident in Rafe’s feelings for you. You two were ride or die. But that was all before Morocco. When he’d respected you and trusted you enough to discuss his business dealings, no matter the danger. Now he told you nothing, only saying you could never possibly understand, that you were too naive, that you couldn’t handle the truth. He talked to Kie instead. Gave her the comfort and attention that he should’ve been giving to you. You had a gut feeling that he was with her now. Probably sharing drinks and talking on his yacht. None of it made any sense to you. You were freaking out, because you’d always lost everything that you loved, and you were terrified you were losing him.

You grabbed your phone and dialed his number, but as usual you were sent right to voicemail. You sat there, staring at the engagement ring he’d put on your finger and wondering how everything had changed so quickly. The clock ticked on, and it wasn’t until almost 4 am, when you heard the bedroom door softly click open. The soft fall of his footsteps as he tried to quietly change and get back into bed without walking you up. You watch him for a moment, admiring how he still was so handsome it made you ache inside for him.

“Rafe” you finally speak, your voice coming out louder in the silent room. He turns to look at you, slipping his sweatpants over his hips. There was annoyance on his face, his jaw clenching like the last thing he wanted now was to have to deal with you.

“We need to talk. I don’t know where you go every night. I don’t know what you’re keeping from me. Why won’t you just let me in? Why won’t you trust me like you used to?” Your voice cracks with emotion and you have to fight to keep tears from falling down your cheeks. He sighs, crossing his arms over his bare chest before he finally addresses you.

“It’s nothing. I can’t sleep. I went for a walk. Stop being so dramatic and reading into everything.” He rubs his hand over the back of his head, immediately on the defensive. He can see the way you’re looking at him, like he’s let you down, like you’re trying so hard to understand what’s changed. And he doesn’t know how to make you understand what he’s going through now. You weren’t there, you didn’t know the hell they’d gone through. And as much as he wants you to be safe, there’s a part of him that’s angry at you, that resents you for not having to suffer through the mess he does in his head.