Always you

Chapter 23

The morning sun streamed into Sasha's room, but it only made her pounding headache worse. She groaned, rolling over in bed and burying her face into the pillow. The events of the party last night were still a blur, though certain moments—especially the one behind Topper's house—were all too clear.

A soft knock on her door made her wince. "Come in," she croaked.

The door opened, and Alex walked in, holding a glass of water and some medicine. "You look terrible," he said with a smirk, setting the glass down on her bedside table.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Sasha muttered, sitting up slowly.

"You didn't come down for breakfast, so I figured you might need this," Alex said, nodding to the medicine.

She gave him a small smile. "You're a lifesaver."

"Don't get used to it," he teased. "Mom's making pancakes. You sure you're not coming?"

Sasha shook her head. "I think I'm going to stay in bed for a bit. Just need to let this hangover fade."

Alex shrugged. "Suit yourself."

After he left, Sasha took the medicine and drank the water, sinking back into her pillows. Despite the quiet, her thoughts were anything but calm. She couldn't stop replaying what she had seen last night—Rafe pinned against the wall, the threats, the punch.

Her worry deepened when she called him later that morning, only for it to go straight to voicemail. She tried again. And again. Nothing.

By the time evening rolled around, Sasha was pacing her room, her worry shifting into frustration. Why wasn't he answering? Was he okay? She'd spent the whole day trying to distract herself, but nothing worked.

When her phone buzzed just past midnight, she nearly jumped. The caller ID made her heart race: Rafe.

"Sasha," he said as soon as she picked up, his voice low and rough. "Come downstairs."

"What? It's the middle of the night!"

"Please," he said. His voice was softer now, almost pleading.

Sasha sighed, throwing on a hoodie and sliding her feet into sneakers. Quietly, she tiptoed down the stairs and opened the front door.

Rafe was leaning against his motorcycle at the bottom of the porch steps, his helmet dangling from one hand. Even in the dim light, she could see the bruises on his face, the cut on his lip, and the faint swelling around his eye.

But there he was, smiling at her with that lazy, cocky grin that made her heart flutter despite herself.

"Hi," he said, his voice a whisper.

Sasha didn't say anything. She walked down the steps and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. Rafe immediately wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close.

"You're late," she mumbled against his shoulder.

"Had some stuff to take care of," he said, his voice low but casual.

She pulled back to look at him, her eyes scanning his bruised face. "What happened, Rafe?"

"It's nothing," he said, waving it off. "Don't worry about it."

"Not worrying isn't an option," she said, frowning.

He gave her a soft smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I'm fine, Sash. Really."

She didn't believe him, but she let it slide—for now. "What are you doing here so late?"

"I wanted to take you for a ride," he said, holding up the spare helmet.

Sasha stared at him. "Seriously? You look like you should be resting."

"I'll rest later," Rafe said, his grin widening. "Come on, live a little."

She hesitated, but the look in his eyes convinced her. With a sigh, she took the helmet and climbed onto the motorcycle behind him.

The wind whipped past them as Rafe sped down the dark, quiet streets of the Outer Banks. The world felt alive yet still, the stars above shining brightly as the ocean breeze brushed against their skin.

Sasha clung to Rafe, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. At first, she was nervous, but as the ride continued, a sense of freedom washed over her.

They finally stopped at a small diner on the edge of town, its neon sign flickering in the night. Rafe parked the motorcycle, and they walked inside, their presence drawing a few curious glances.

Rafe led her to a booth in the corner. "Best late-night food on the island," he said, sliding into the seat across from her.

"I'll take your word for it," Sasha said, smiling.

They ordered burgers and milkshakes, and Rafe's charm was on full display. He made her laugh until her sides hurt, telling her stories about his reckless adventures with JJ and Topper.

"So, are you ever going to tell me what really happened to your face?" Sasha asked, leaning forward.

Rafe smirked. "Let's just say I ran into some old friends."

She frowned but didn't push further. Instead, she said, "You should be more careful."

"Careful's not really my style," he said, grinning.

"Clearly," Sasha muttered, shaking her head.

After they finished eating, they stepped outside into the cool night air. Rafe leaned against the motorcycle, pulling Sasha into his side as they looked out over the quiet parking lot.

"Thanks for coming out with me tonight," Rafe said softly.

"I didn't really have a choice," Sasha teased. "You kind of just showed up."

"And you didn't tell me to leave," he pointed out, smirking.

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "You're impossible."

"Yeah," he said, leaning closer. "But you like me anyway."

She blushed, looking away. "Maybe."

Rafe chuckled, brushing a kiss against her temple. "Come on. Let's get you home."

The ride back was quieter, the town even more still as dawn crept closer. Sasha rested her head against Rafe's back, her thoughts swirling.

By the time they reached her house, she didn't feel any closer to understanding Rafe's secrets—but she knew one thing for certain. She wasn't ready to let him go.