「 ✦ A KISS ✦ 」

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LATER THAT NIGHT, the house was cloaked in silence. MJ sat cross-legged on her bed, the faint light of a lamp casting a soft glow across her room. The day's events replayed in her mind like a storm she couldn't escape, the weight of it pressing heavily on her chest. She ran her fingers over the faint bruises on her arms, her eyes glassy with exhaustion and emotion.

Then came a soft knock on her window.

Her heart jumped, panic flashing through her. She grabbed the first thing she could—a textbook from her nightstand—and crept toward the window. But when she pulled back the curtain, she froze.

It was Rafe.

His face was shadowed in the dim moonlight, but there was no mistaking the concern in his eyes as he leaned closer, motioning for her to open the window. MJ hesitated her heart racing, before finally sliding it open.

"Rafe?" she whispered, her voice thick with confusion. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I had to check on you," he said softly, his voice low and sincere. "After everything... I couldn't just leave you like that."

She blinked, stunned, and stepped back to let him in. Rafe cautiously climbed through the window, landing quietly on the floor. He straightened, brushing his messy blonde hair, his expression uncharacteristically soft.

"I shouldn't even be here," MJ muttered, sitting back on her bed and pulling her knees to her chest. "If Luke finds out—"

"Let me deal with Luke," Rafe interrupted, his voice firmer now. "I don't care what he says or does. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "Okay? Yeah, no, I'm not okay, Rafe. I'm a complete mess. You saw me earlier—I'm—" Her voice broke, and she quickly looked away, ashamed of the tears threatening to spill again.

"Hey," Rafe said gently, stepping closer. "Don't do that. Don't shut me out."

He knelt in front of her, so close now that she could see the faint shadows under his eyes, the worry etched into his features. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before lightly touching her hand.

"You scared me today," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "When Barry called me and told me what happened... I didn't know if you were going to make it, Rosemary." His use of the nickname was soft and intimate like it was meant to soothe her. "I can't stop thinking about it."

MJ looked at him, her defences faltering under the raw emotion in his eyes. "Why do you care so much?" she whispered.

Rafe smiled faintly, a sad sort of smile. "Because I see you, MJ. The real you. Not the tough girl who tries to take on the world by herself. Not the one who acts like she doesn't need anyone." His voice cracked, and he shook his head. "I care because... because I just do. Okay? And I'm not going anywhere."

Her chest tightened, and she let out a shaky breath. "You don't get it, Rafe. I'm broken. You shouldn't be here—"

"Stop," he cut her off, his hand moving to cup her cheek. His touch was warm, and grounding, and it made her heart stutter. "You're not broken, Rosemary. You're hurt. And yeah, maybe you're a mess right now, but so am I. Who isn't?" He laughed softly, the sound tinged with self-deprecation. "But you don't have to go through this alone."

The sincerity in his voice made her walls crumble, and before she could stop herself, she leaned into his touch, her forehead resting against his. They stayed like that for a moment, breathing the same air, the world outside her small room fading away.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Rafe smiled, his thumb brushing gently over her cheek. "Anytime."

For the first time in what felt like forever, MJ let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't entirely alone.

MJ took a deep breath, her pulse quickening as she stepped aside to let Rafe into her room. He hesitated for a second, looking over her shoulder at the dimly lit space that had been her sanctuary and her prison all at once.

The room was quiet, too quiet—decorated in the same muted colours that reflected the heaviness she felt inside. The walls were bare save for a few faded posters, and her bed was messy, clothes strewn across the floor like she hadn't bothered to pick up after herself in days. It wasn't the type of space where someone like Rafe would usually be found.

But there he was.

He glanced around for a moment before turning his gaze back to her, his expression softening. "It's... it's not what I expected," he murmured, his voice filled with something MJ couldn't place—sympathy, maybe, or understanding. "But it's... you."

She smiled faintly, shrugging, the lump in her throat growing with every second he spent in her world. "Yeah, it's not much. Just a room full of bad decisions and mess."

"Doesn't matter," Rafe replied softly, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving hers. He wasn't mocking her—there was no condescension in his voice, just a quiet reassurance as if nothing about this moment felt out of place to him. "It's real."

She swallowed, her heart beating a little faster, a fluttering in her chest she hadn't expected. "It's... a little more real than I can handle sometimes."

Rafe's eyes softened even more, and he reached out, brushing his fingertips against her arm, almost as if to reassure her he was there. "You don't have to handle it alone, Rosemary."

The softness in his voice broke through the walls she'd spent so long building. She felt herself leaning into him, the space between them growing smaller like the room was closing in on her, but in the best way possible.

Her heart raced as she lifted her gaze to his, her breath hitching in her throat. Rafe stepped even closer, so close that she could feel the warmth radiating off of him, and for a moment, it felt like time slowed.

She wasn't sure who moved first—whether it was him or her—but suddenly his lips were on hers. A soft, tentative kiss at first, like a question, a promise. His lips were warm and gentle, and it felt like the entire weight of the world was on her shoulders, and yet, here, at this moment, with Rafe holding her, everything seemed to settle.

MJ closed her eyes, leaning into him, kissing him back with a tenderness she didn't know she had left. She could feel the raw emotion in the kiss, the way he held her like she was fragile like she was precious. Every movement was slow, and careful, as though they were both savouring the moment before it could slip away.

Rafe's hands slid up to cup her face, his fingers tracing the curve of her jaw with a softness that made her want to melt. The kiss deepened, just a little, as he pulled her closer, his body pressing against hers. It was gentle, and intimate, like neither of them wanted to rush this connection, like they wanted to make it last.

The tension in MJ's chest eased, the storm inside her quieting just for a moment as she let herself be held, kissed, and loved in a way that felt so new and yet so right.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to steady their hearts.

"Rafe..." MJ whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. "Just let me be here."

She nodded, closing her eyes for a brief second, savouring the feeling of his hands still on her, the tenderness that filled the room between them. It wasn't just a kiss—it was a promise, an unspoken understanding that maybe they could find something real here, something that could help them both heal from the mess they'd been through.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, MJ let herself believe it could be enough.

Rafe's voice was soft as he pulled back slightly, his thumb tracing her lower lip. "You deserve better than this, Rosemary."

Her heart clenched, the truth of his words hitting her harder than she expected. She wasn't sure what the future held or if she was ready to trust anyone—least of all someone like Rafe—but in that moment, with him so close, she knew one thing: she wasn't alone.

Rafe gave her a small, teasing smile, his thumb brushing across her cheek as he held her gaze. "So, what are you doing tomorrow?" His voice was soft, but there was an underlying sincerity in his tone, like he was trying to gauge her, to figure out how much space he had to ask for something more.

MJ's heart fluttered, and she pulled away slightly, leaning back against the edge of her bed, trying to steady herself after everything that had happened. "Well, I'm working the Midsommer Dance with my brother," she said with a slight shrug, trying to sound casual even though the last thing she wanted was to go through the motions of the event. "It's just... another night, you know?"

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smile that was part mischief, part something else—something she couldn't quite name but made her stomach flip. "So, you're telling me you're going to spend your night chaperoning a bunch of drunk rich people at some dance when you could be with me?" His voice dropped a little, a mix of amusement and earnestness. "Why don't you ditch it and come with me?"

MJ couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound light and airy, almost like it belonged in a different life. "Rafe, no. I can't just skip out on my brother and everything that's going on." She looked away briefly, her thoughts momentarily drifting to her family—the complicated web of obligations and expectations. "I'm supposed to help him."

But Rafe didn't seem convinced. His expression softened, the teasing fading into something more serious. "I'm serious, Rosemary. You deserve to do something for yourself. This... whatever it is at the dance? It's not your life. You're not tied down by that. You don't have to spend another night stuck in a place that doesn't feel like you."

Her chest tightened at his words, but she shook her head, a small, self-deprecating smile pulling at her lips. "I can't. I don't even know what I'd do with myself if I didn't go."

There was a pause, a quiet beat of understanding between them, before Rafe took a step closer again, the distance between them narrowing most tenderly. His eyes softened, watching her intently. "Then, what if I make it worth your while?"

MJ met his gaze, the weight of his words pressing against her chest, but she still couldn't bring herself to give in. "What, like a bribe?" she teased lightly, her lips curling into a half-smile. "You think you can convince me with that?"

Rafe laughed lightly, a genuine chuckle that warmed the space between them. "I don't know," he said softly, his voice dropping to something almost intimate, "I could try."

She rolled her eyes, a playful grin tugging at her lips, but her heart beat faster at the sincerity in his gaze. "You're ridiculous," she said, but her voice was soft, the playfulness lingering in the air.

There was a brief, comfortable silence before MJ, with a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, glanced at him again. "Hey," she said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. "Can I... can I kiss you again before you go?"

Rafe's expression softened, and for a split second, his lips parted as if he were surprised by the question. But it quickly melted into that same gentle smile, one that made her feel like she was the only person in the world to him. He nodded without saying anything, his eyes warm and full of understanding.

"Of course," he said, his voice low and steady.

MJ closed the small gap between them, feeling the flutter of nerves in her chest, but also the pull toward him—the magnetic draw that made everything else feel so distant. She lifted her hand to his cheek, her thumb grazing over the roughness of his jaw, before gently pulling him down to meet her lips.

The kiss was soft at first, slow and tender, the kind of kiss that felt like it could last forever. There was no rush, no pressure—just the quiet comfort of being in each other's presence, the warmth of his hands on her skin and the way his lips moved against hers, as though he were trying to make the moment last.

When they finally pulled away, Rafe kept his forehead pressed against hers, both of them breathing a little heavier. He closed his eyes, as though savouring the moment. 

MJ stayed quiet for a moment, her heart beating in her chest before she finally spoke, her voice soft but sure. "Maybe I'll see you again soon," she said, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "But if I don't, I'm... I'm glad you came tonight."

Rafe smiled, his hands still cupping her face as he leaned in for one more brief kiss as if he didn't want to leave but knew he had to. "You're something else, Rosemary," he murmured against her lips, before pulling away and taking a step back toward the window. "Take care of yourself. And, uh..." He hesitated, looking back at her with a teasing glint in his eyes. "Maybe think about my offer."

She laughed softly, shaking her head.  "I'm debating it, the money isn't even that good."

Rafe winked at her, the mischievous spark back in his eyes. "Good. Because I'm not giving up that easy."

As he climbed out the window and disappeared into the night, MJ stood there for a moment, her heart racing and a smile on her face that she couldn't quite shake. It wasn't just the kiss or even the way he made her feel—there was something more, something real, that had started between them, something she hadn't expected but was beginning to understand.

Maybe tomorrow, she'd figure out what to do with it.

But for tonight, she felt lighter than she had in a long time.  

MJ quietly made her way downstairs, the weight of the day still hanging heavy on her shoulders. Her body ached, with bruises from the earlier fights and the endless tension with her family, but it was the emotional exhaustion that made her feel drained beyond belief. She hadn't had time to process everything, not with the constant chaos swirling around her.

As she moved through the living room, her eyes landed on the couch, where Luke was sprawled out, unconscious, a half-empty bottle of whiskey lying beside him. His face was flushed, his breathing shallow but steady, clearly passed out from drinking too much. The house felt suffocating with the stale smell of alcohol and regret hanging in the air.

MJ hesitated, her gaze lingering on her father for a moment. She could feel the anger bubbling up inside her at the way he treated her, at the way he'd shoved her earlier, at the things he'd said. But at the same time, the sight of him passed out like this—vulnerable, pathetic—stirred something else. She hated him, but she also couldn't leave him like this, not when she knew what the aftermath of his drinking looked like.

With a sigh, she crossed the room, kneeling beside the couch. She pushed his arm gently, trying to rouse him enough to clean him up. "Dad," she muttered, a little softer than she'd meant to sound. "Dad, wake up."

Luke groaned, his eyes barely opening as he squinted at her through half-lidded, bloodshot eyes. He tried to swat her away, mumbling something incoherent about leaving him alone, but MJ wasn't about to let him just lie there in his mess. She grabbed a handful of napkins from the table, wetting them with some water before gently wiping his face, trying to clean off the dirt and grime of the night.

He didn't make much of an effort to help, and MJ didn't expect him to. He never did. She just worked as quickly as she could, ignoring the sharp sting in her chest as she wiped the alcohol and sweat from his skin. It wasn't even the anger anymore—at least not just the anger. It was the helplessness, the way he was so deep in his addiction that it was like trying to drag him out of quicksand, only to watch him sink deeper with every step.

She helped him sit up, steadying him as she grabbed a blanket from the couch and tucked it around him, making sure he was comfortable enough to sleep it off. When she was sure he wouldn't stir again, she stood up, rubbing her hands on her jeans before heading upstairs to her room.

The hot water felt soothing as it hit her skin, washing away the grime of the day, the fight with her father, the memories of the hospital, and the overwhelming feeling of everything she'd been through. As the steam filled the small bathroom, MJ closed her eyes for a moment, letting the warmth seep into her muscles, hoping it would ease the constant tension.

She didn't know what the future held. She didn't know if Rafe was really someone she could trust, or if things with her father would ever get better. She didn't know what to do about JJ or the mess that was their family. But for now, she allowed herself to breathe, to exist in the small moment of peace she had.

When she stepped out of the shower, feeling somewhat more human, she dressed quickly in loose clothes, the fabric soft against her skin. She didn't even bother looking at her reflection in the mirror, instead walking over to the window to look outside at the dark sky. The stars were barely visible through the haze of city lights, but she could still make out a few, faraway and bright.

It felt like she was standing on the edge of something, uncertain of what would come next but knowing that she couldn't stay in the same place forever. The idea of something better, something beyond the mess of her family and the chaos of the past few weeks, hung in the back of her mind.

As she looked out the window, the thought of Rafe drifted in—his words, his care, the way he seemed to understand her better than anyone else. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope beyond all of this.

But for now, she closed the blinds, turned off the lights, and sank into bed, trying to quiet her racing thoughts. Tomorrow would come with its own set of problems. For tonight, though, she allowed herself the luxury of sleep, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the morning would feel a little bit brighter.

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The morning light filtered through the blinds of MJ's room, its warmth a stark contrast to the coldness in her chest. She had barely slept, the weight of everything pressing down on her, but the alarm ringing pulled her from her restless thoughts. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the lingering ache from the night before, both physical and emotional.

She dragged herself out of bed, quickly slipping into a pair of jeans and a loose shirt, the comfort of the fabric against her skin offering a small, fleeting moment of relief. She moved about the room, trying to make herself look presentable, even though everything inside her felt like a tangled mess.

As she was brushing her hair, she heard the sharp sound of voices coming from outside—angry voices. Luke's voice, unmistakable and booming, mixed with another, a voice she immediately recognized: Rafe's.

"Get off my property, Cameron!" Luke yelled, his voice seething with venom. "I told you to stay away from my daughter."

MJ froze, the brush halfway through her hair, her heart pounding as she strained to hear what was happening. Her father's angry tirade was getting louder, and Rafe's calm response only seemed to fuel the fire.

"I'm just offering her a ride to work, Luke," Rafe's voice sounded, smooth but unwavering. "That's all. Chill out."

MJ's stomach tightened. She knew this was bad—she could already feel the tension, the crackling heat between them. Her father hated Rafe with a passion, and the feeling was mutual. But something about the way Rafe spoke—so cool, almost too casual—made her heart race. It was as if he knew exactly how to handle her father, knew how to stay calm when Luke was ready to snap.

She quickly finished brushing her hair and grabbed her things, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling clawing at her gut. She didn't want to be a part of whatever this was, but she knew if she didn't step in, things would only get worse.

She made her way downstairs, her heart racing as she approached the front door. She hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath before opening it.

The second she stepped outside, the shouting paused. Both Luke and Rafe turned toward her, their eyes locking on her with different emotions—Luke's full of distrust and anger, and Rafe's almost too calm, too steady.

"What the hell is going on out here?" MJ asked, her voice sharper than she intended, but the nerves and frustration were bubbling up inside her.

Luke sneered, turning to face her. "This guy," he spat, jerking his thumb toward Rafe, "is not going to be anywhere near you. I've told him this before, MJ. He's trouble. I don't want him anywhere near you."

Rafe just watched her, his expression unreadable, a small flicker of amusement in his eyes as if he was almost enjoying the show.

"I'm just offering her a ride," Rafe said, looking over at MJ, his voice lowering to something softer. "That's it. No need for the drama."

MJ's chest tightened, her father's anger building like a storm, and the way Rafe seemed unbothered by it only made her more tense. She could feel her father's eyes on her now, expecting her to choose, to side with him.

"You can't just take me to work, Rafe," MJ said, trying to keep her voice level, but there was a tremor of uncertainty that made her words waver. "I'm not—this isn't the time."

Luke turned to her, his face red with fury. "MJ, you don't need him, understand? This guy? He's not good for you."

Rafe shifted his stance, his jaw tightening for a moment as if weighing his next words. "I'm not the one with a problem here, Luke," he said, his voice slow and deliberate. "But I'll be damned if I let you try to control everything she does. I'm just offering her a ride. Let her make her own decisions."

The tension in the air was thick, and MJ could feel it pressing down on her, suffocating her. She didn't want to choose sides. She didn't want to deal with the chaos that always came when her father and Rafe were involved. But she knew she had to make a decision.

She turned toward Luke, her voice quieter this time. "I'm going to be late if I walk."

Luke's eyes flashed, but he didn't say anything. He just stared at her, disappointment and anger pooling in his eyes. "I don't give a flying fuck if you're going to be late, walk fast. You're not getting in the damn car with that kid."

She felt the sting of his words, but she refused to let him see how much they hurt.

Rafe, however, didn't seem phased. "You're not going to change her, Luke," he said, his tone cutting through the tension like a knife. "She's not a pawn in your game."

Luke's eyes snapped toward Rafe, and for a moment, it looked like things were about to escalate again. But MJ stepped between them, holding up her hands, trying to put a stop to the brewing storm.

"Just... Just let me go to work, okay?" MJ said, her voice exhausted. She didn't want this fight anymore. She didn't want to be caught in the middle. "I'll take the ride with Rafe. It's fine."

Luke's face darkened, but he said nothing more. He turned and walked back toward the house, muttering curses under his breath.

Rafe stepped closer, his expression softening as he glanced at MJ. "You good?" he asked quietly, his eyes scanning her face as if looking for any sign of distress.

MJ nodded, though her heart was still heavy. "Yeah," she muttered. "I'm fine. Let's just get going."

Rafe offered her a small smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes, but it was enough to make her stomach flip.

"Okay, Rosemary," he said softly, his voice warm but with that usual cool edge. "Let's get out of here."

As they walked to his car, MJ could feel the weight of her father's anger still hanging over her, but she couldn't help the small sense of relief that came with leaving.

The car ride was quiet, save for the soft hum of the engine and the rhythmic tapping of Rafe's fingers against the steering wheel. MJ stared out the window, her mind still spinning from the confrontation outside. Her father's anger was still fresh in her thoughts, but there was something else too—something that felt oddly comforting about being alone with Rafe, even after everything that had happened.

She turned her head toward him, her curiosity getting the best of her. "How did you know I was working today?" she asked her voice light but edged with amusement. "You stalking me, Rafe?"

Rafe glanced at her, raising an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I go to the country club," he said matter-of-factly, his tone teasing but still calm. "I know who works there and when. It's not exactly a secret."

MJ chuckled, shaking her head as she crossed her arms. "So, you're a regular? I should've known." She leaned back in her seat, her teasing smile growing wider. "Guess I should be worried. You keeping tabs on me now?"

Rafe laughed softly, his eyes briefly flickering to hers before focusing back on the road. "I don't need to stalk you to know when you're working, Rosemary," he said, his voice smooth and almost fond. "I'm just... observant. Plus, I like knowing what's going on in the area."

MJ rolled her eyes, but the playful tone in his voice made it hard to stay annoyed. "Observant, huh?" she said with a raised eyebrow. "You mean, you're just watching me, huh?"

Rafe's smirk widened, and for a brief moment, he seemed like a different person—less the cool, detached guy and more someone who might enjoy the playful banter. "Maybe I do watch you," he said casually, his tone almost teasing. "Maybe I like what I see."

MJ's heart skipped a beat at his words, the playful atmosphere between them shifting to something else, something more... electric. She bit her lip, trying not to let the moment get too intense, but she couldn't ignore the way his words made her feel.

"Well, you're not the only one who's observant, I guess," she shot back, her tone softening. "I've noticed you at the club, too. You like to stand out, don't you?"

Rafe chuckled, glancing at her for a moment before turning his attention back to the road. "I like to make an impression. Nothing wrong with that."

MJ smirked. "No, definitely not. I'm just surprised you don't get bored hanging out with those people all the time. You know, the 'country club types.'"

Rafe's smile faltered for a second, but he quickly regained his usual cocky demeanour. "Bored? Nah. They're... entertaining. But they've got nothing on you."

MJ raised an eyebrow at him, feeling a strange warmth spread through her chest at his words. "Is that so?" she asked, her voice softer than before.

"Yeah," Rafe replied, his gaze flickering to her again, a faint glimmer of sincerity in his eyes. "You're not like anyone else I know."

For a brief moment, there was nothing but the quiet hum of the engine and the soft click of the turn signal. The air between them felt charged, full of unspoken tension. MJ shifted in her seat, feeling her heart race, but before she could respond, Rafe broke the silence again.

"Besides," he added, his voice low and playful, "I'm pretty sure you like the attention."

MJ let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "You're impossible," she muttered, but the teasing smile never left her face.

Rafe grinned, his hands tight on the steering wheel as he maneuvered the car down the road. "Maybe. But I'm your impossible," he said, his voice softer now, but with that same edge of confidence.

MJ didn't know how to respond to that. For a moment, the car felt too small, too confined, like the space between them was too close but still too far. She shifted in her seat again, trying to calm the storm of emotions building inside her. She wasn't used to this feeling—being so close to someone, having them pay attention to her in this way. And with Rafe, it felt... different.

The rest of the drive passed in silence, but the tension lingered, thick and heavy, as if the air itself was waiting for something to shift.

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As MJ walked into the dimly lit country club bar, she felt a pit of anxiety knot in her stomach. The atmosphere was usually a mix of subdued chatter and soft music, but today it felt oppressive, almost suffocating. She carried a tray with drinks, her gaze lingering on Topper as he sat at a corner booth with Kelce, a smug grin plastered across his face.

"Hey, Topper," MJ greeted him through gritted teeth, her voice tight with barely controlled anger.

Topper looked up, his smirk widening as he recognized her approach. "Well, if it isn't Rosemary," he said with a sneer, eyes glinting with amusement. "Got something for me?"

MJ forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "Yeah, I've got something for you," she muttered, setting the tray down in front of him. "A drink, courtesy of the bartender."

Topper grinned maliciously as he took the glass from her, purposely tipping it over and letting the icy water spill down her front. The patrons around them gasped in surprise, and MJ felt a burning wave of humiliation wash over her.

Her manager, Gary, appeared behind her, his face red with anger. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Rosemary? You know better than to mess up orders like that!" he shouted, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

MJ felt her temper snap. "I didn't do anything!" she shot back, her voice rising to match his. "He did it on purpose, Gary!"

Gary's face twisted into a scowl. "I don't give a shit what he did! You're the one serving drinks, so you're the one who's responsible! You're fired, Rosemary. Get out of here before I call security."

Tears pricked at the corners of MJ's eyes, and she clenched her fists, trying to keep her anger in check. She couldn't lose this job; she needed the money more than ever, especially with everything that was happening. "Please, Gary, I need this job. I can't afford to lose it," she pleaded, her voice breaking.

Gary sneered at her, his gaze cold and dismissive. "I don't care what you need," he snapped. "You're done. Get your shit and get out. I don't want to see you back here again."

MJ didn't say a word. Instead, she used the empty tray to deliver a sharp, clean smack across Topper's face. The force of the hit sent him sprawling back into his booth, and the sound echoed through the quiet bar.

"You're done here. Now leave before I call the cops." Gary shouted. 

With a heavy heart, MJ turned and stormed out of the bar, her vision blurry with angry tears. She didn't stop until she was outside, away from the stares and whispers of the other patrons. The cool night air hit her face, but it didn't soothe the storm raging inside her.

"Fucking assholes," she muttered under her breath, gripping the tray tightly. She wanted to throw it, to break something, but instead, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Before she could make her way to her car, Topper came barreling out of the club, still soaked and looking livid. "You're fucking dead, Rosemary!" he yelled, stumbling over the words as he tried to catch up with her.

MJ turned, her eyes blazing with fury. "Try me," she snapped, her hands curling into fists.

Topper lunged at her, his fingers reaching out to grab her arm, but MJ was ready. She swung the tray hard, catching him square in the chest and knocking him back a few steps. "Don't touch me again," she growled, her voice low and dangerous.

She didn't have time to process what had just happened, though. She was too busy trying to keep herself from breaking down entirely. She was still trying to catch her breath when she heard a familiar voice calling out her name.

"Rosemary! Wait up!"

She turned to see Rafe jogging toward her, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, reaching out to touch her arm. "You okay?"

MJ couldn't hold back any longer. The tears spilled over, and she threw her arms around Rafe, burying her face in his chest. "I lost my job," she choked out. "I have so much shit to pay, I don't know what I'm going to do."

"The Midsummer dance gig was supposed to be a huge payout," she muttered, her voice tight with frustration. "Now, thanks to Topper and that asshole Gary, I'm out of a job and out of that money. I needed it."

Rafe glanced at her, his brow furrowing. "It's not like it's the end of the world," he said, his tone calm but lightly teasing. "If you're not working it, you could always just go to the dance with me."

MJ snapped her head toward him, her scowl sharp enough to cut glass. "Not everyone has enough money to not give a shit about being fired, Rafe," she snapped, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "Some of us have to, you know, work to survive."

"I'm just saying, maybe you should take a night off for once," he said, his voice softer now, almost tentative. "You're always running yourself into the ground, Rosemary. One night won't kill you."

MJ let out a short, bitter laugh. "Yeah, and what happens after that one night, huh? The bills don't stop piling up, Rafe. The world doesn't pause because I decided to play dress-up for a few hours." She looked back out the window, her jaw clenched.

He was quiet for a while, the only sound in the car the low hum of the engine and the distant crash of waves as they passed the coastline. Finally, he spoke again, his voice gentle but firm. "I know I can't fix everything for you, but maybe I could make things a little easier. If you'd let me."

MJ turned to him, her brows knitting together in frustration and disbelief. "You don't get it, do you? This isn't something you can just throw money at and make better. This is my life, Rafe. My mess."

He pulled the truck over to the side of the road and shifted into the park, turning to face her fully. "And I'm trying to be a part of it," he said, his voice tinged with frustration now. 

Rafe's blue eyes locked onto MJ's, intense and unwavering. "I'm serious, Rosemary," he said, his voice low but heavy with emotion. "I want to save you from all this... this lowlife Pogue shit. You deserve more than this—more than scraping by, more than dealing with idiots like your dad and... and Topper."

MJ blinked, then let out a sharp, humourless laugh. "Save me?" she repeated, incredulous. "Are you serious right now? What is this, some kind of game to you? Rafe Cameron swoops in and rescues the poor little Pogue girl. Please."

Her laugh hit him like a slap, and his jaw tightened. He stared at her for a long moment before responding, his voice quieter now but no less intense. "You think this is a joke? You think I don't mean it?"

"Yeah, I do," MJ shot back, crossing her arms over her chest. "Because this is what you do, isn't it? Play the hero when it suits you. But let me guess—when it gets too messy when I'm not worth the trouble anymore, you'll disappear like everyone else."

Rafe's face twisted in frustration, but instead of lashing out, he ran a hand through his hair and looked away for a moment. "You don't get it," he said finally, his voice strained. "You're the only person who listens to me. Who doesn't treat me like I'm some kind of... monster? Everyone else sees me as a screw-up, as the crazy Cameron kid. But you... you're different."

MJ's smirk faltered, her expression softening despite herself. "Rafe..."

He shook his head, cutting her off. "You don't laugh in my face when I try to talk about my shit. You don't look at me like I'm dangerous or broken. You don't even realize what that means to me, do you?"

For once, MJ was at a loss for words. She stared at him, her usual quick wit and sarcasm replaced by something quieter, something closer to vulnerability. She wanted to brush it off, to tell him he was being dramatic, but the look on his face stopped her. He was serious—raw, even. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had been this honest with her, let alone Rafe Cameron.