Out of Nowhere (Middle of Somewhere 2)

“Colin,” he says, and hearing it makes my throat so tight I can barely talk.

“Rafe, I… can you come over?” I manage, cringing at the words.

“Are you in trouble?”

There’s tension in his voice and I can imagine what he’s thinking. That I’m bad news. That all he ever does is help me.

He sighs. “Have you been drinking?”

“I—”

“Tell me the truth, please.”

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Are you sure it’s me you need?”

I almost laugh, because though he sounds like he thinks he’s laying down some truth, it’s pathetic how much I need him.

“Please, Rafe. Could you…?” I look at the clock. It’s before nine. Not too late. “Do you think you could come over? I won’t drink anymore, I swear.”

I don’t know what I’m going to do if he says no. My stomach and chest are so tight that I don’t even notice I’m crouching on the floor, hunched around the phone, until he answers. The pause is interminable.

“Okay.”

It’s not enthusiastic, but it’s there.

“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you. I’m sorr—”

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes. We’ll talk then.”

I take a shower and brush my teeth until my gums bleed, then put on clean sweats and drink some water, trying to sober up before he arrives.

He knocks on the door exactly thirty minutes after we got off the phone.

I feel a momentary surge of hope just looking at him, but it’s immediately extinguished by the memory of the last time we were here and the things we said.

The second Rafe shuts the door, Shelby comes galloping over and climbs him like a tree, licking his cheek and butting her little head against his neck. He’s caught off guard and laughs for a moment. She’s so glad to see him it makes me sick. I haven’t done right by either of them.

“Rafe, I—”

Rafe closes the distance between us in two steps.

“What happened?” he demands. The second he touches me, my throat gets thick. He takes me by the elbow and leads me to the couch, sitting next to me. He puts Shelby in my lap, but she jumps off immediately.

“She hates me,” I say.

Rafe runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “She doesn’t hate you.”

“Pop died.” Rafe freezes. “And Daniel’s here.”

“What happened?” Rafe takes my hand between his, and it’s like a dam breaks with his touch. I’m not even really drunk anymore, just exhausted. Tired of hurting and tired of being afraid. Tired of trying to be without Rafe and tired of not being what he needs. Just so fucking tired. My eyes blur with tears, and I squeeze his hand so hard it’s probably painful.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter. “Please don’t hate me. Please.”

His arms come around me hesitantly, and he strokes lightly up and down my spine. I don’t even have the energy to be embarrassed that I’m crying. I just want to feel something other than the choking fear of this creeping darkness.

Rafe sighs. “I don’t hate you,” he says softly. “I was upset before. Angry, yeah. But I never hated you.” He brushes his fingertips over my lips and up into my hair. “What happened with your dad?”

“He had a heart attack in the shop. Day before yesterday. He died in the hospital. I… I’m all…. I don’t know….” I shake my head. I’ve wanted to talk to Rafe every day for two weeks, but now that he’s here, I barely have the energy to speak. I just want to be near him. “Can you forgive me? I said fucking awful things. I didn’t even mean them.”

His expression is serious but he doesn’t seem angry. “Are you sure you didn’t mean them?”

I cast my mind back, desperately trying to remember everything I said. It’s hard after I spent two weeks shying away from every thought of them.

“What I said about Javier. I’m sorry for that. The rest… I guess I… I guess I probably did mean it, but I didn’t mean to say it so awful.”

Rafe nods and squeezes my shoulder. “Me too. I meant what I said, but I said it all wrong. I’m sorry for that. Let’s not worry about it right now. We’ll talk about it later. Okay?”

I nod, intensely relieved that there will be a later. Rafe leans in slowly, stroking my lips with his thumb. I kiss his thumb and his mouth goes all soft. He moves his thumb to brush my cheek and kisses me softly.

“Will you stay? Please. The funeral’s tomorrow morning. I just—” Fuck, I just really don’t want to be alone.

Rafe stands up, pulling me with him like I weigh nothing, and touches under my eyes. “Looks like you could use some sleep.”

He’s stripped down to his underwear before I realize I’m just standing by the bedroom door, staring at him. He’s like a luxury car: everything’s perfectly balanced, his lines are beautiful, powerful. He’s… he’s fucking beautiful.