tis the damn season

"And i go back to December all the time"

The night felt heavier after Rafe walked away, his absence more palpable than his presence had been. I stood there by the fireplace, gripping my wine glass, my heart in a freefall. I told myself that I should be relieved—I had done the right thing. Rafe was dangerous. He brought chaos. Yet, why did it feel like a part of me left with him?

"Jules, you okay?" Kiara appeared at my side, her expression concerned.

I forced a smile. "Yeah, just... a lot to take in."

She didn't buy it. "I saw him. I saw you." Her eyes searched mine. "Did he say something?"

I sighed. "He wanted to talk, and I shut it down. I couldn't—"

Kiara touched my arm gently. "You couldn't or you wouldn't?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I took a long sip of wine, letting the warmth dull the ache in my chest. Kiara gave me a sympathetic look but thankfully dropped the subject. She was one of the few people who understood the pull Rafe had on me—and the pain that came with it.

"I'm gonna head outside for a minute," I said, needing air, space, anything but the suffocating nostalgia that clung to every corner of the room.

The crisp December air hit me as soon as I stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the ocean. The waves crashed below, their rhythm steady, comforting. I leaned against the railing, letting the cold seep into my skin. The Outer Banks were beautiful this time of year, but the beauty was bittersweet.

Behind me, footsteps echoed on the wooden planks. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"You always did like the ocean at night," Rafe's voice came softly, cutting through the quiet.

I closed my eyes for a second, steadying myself before turning to face him. His hands were shoved into his coat pockets, and the moonlight cast shadows across his sharp features. He looked like a ghost from my past—haunting, yet familiar.

"Rafe, I told you—"

"You told me no inside. I get it," he interrupted, his tone calm but firm. "But you didn't mean it."

I opened my mouth to argue but hesitated. Did I mean it? My heart said no, but my head reminded me of every reason why Rafe was dangerous. His temper. His past. His addiction.

"I'm not the guy I used to be," he said, reading my silence. He stepped closer, his eyes searching mine. "I know I messed up, Jules. I've spent every damn day since you left trying to fix things. I'm clean. I've been working for the family business—legitimately." He exhaled, his breath clouding in the cold air. "I'm not asking for much. Just... talk to me. Let me show you I've changed."

His words hung in the air between us, and for a moment, all I could hear was the crash of the waves. He sounded sincere, but I'd been burned before.

"I don't know if I can trust you," I whispered.

Rafe's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "I get that. But I'll be here. Whenever you're ready."

He turned to leave, but something inside me broke. "Wait."

He froze, then slowly turned back around.

"I don't know if you've changed," I said, my voice trembling. "But I know I miss you. And that scares me."

Rafe took a step closer, closing the distance between us. "You don't have to be scared," he murmured. "Not of me. Not anymore."

I didn't stop him when he reached for my hand, his fingers warm despite the chill. The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words. I knew this was dangerous. I knew we could break each other all over again.

But right now, under the stars and the weight of our past, it didn't matter.

"I missed you too," I admitted, my voice barely audible.

His eyes softened, and for the first time in a long time, I saw hope in them. "Come with me," he said, his voice raw. "Just for a drive. No expectations."

I hesitated, but then I nodded. "Okay."

This time, I didn't let myself think.

The truck rumbled down the deserted road, the only sound the tires on the pavement and the distant roar of the ocean. Neither of us spoke, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. It was as if we were both waiting for the other to break it, to say the words we were too afraid to speak.

Rafe finally pulled over at the old pier, the same one where we used to meet late at night when we were younger. He cut the engine, and for a moment, we sat there in the dark, the memories flooding back.

"You remember this place?" he asked, his voice soft.

"How could I forget?" I whispered. The pier stretched out over the dark, restless ocean, its weathered wooden planks creaking softly underfoot. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver glow across the water, turning the waves into shimmering ribbons of light. The salty breeze carried the rhythmic crash of the tide, a soothing yet powerful sound that echoed in the quiet night. Lanterns along the railing flickered gently, their warm glow barely cutting through the darkness but enough to guide the way. Above, stars sparkled in the vast sky, their light reflected in the endless expanse of the ocean, making it feel as if the sea and sky were one. It was a place that felt timeless—isolated yet full of memories, where the weight of the world seemed to drift away with the tide.

Rafe turned to me, his eyes searching mine in the dim light. "We can't go back," he said. "But maybe we can start over."

I didn't know what the future held. But as I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder, I realized that maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other.