The silence between you was unbearable. Rafe stood a few feet away, his hands trembling at his sides, eyes filled with a desperation that cut through the cold night air.
“You’re mad,” he said, voice low, his jaw tight. When you didn’t answer, his frustration bubbled over. “Of course you are. You always are. And I—” He stopped, shaking his head. “Why are you even here?”
You stared at him, the words stuck in your throat.
“Say something,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Anything.”
But you didn’t. What was left to say?
His face twisted in something between anger and heartbreak. “Fine. If you don’t care, just say it. Tell me I’m wasting my time.”
You looked at him then, and for a fleeting moment, he hesitated. But when you stayed silent, he let out a hollow laugh and turned toward his truck.
“If you walk away,” he said quietly, his voice shaking, “don’t come back.”