Page 20 of Rafe

Nate sighed, the nighttime air enveloping his words. “I truly believe you and Maggie need to lay everything out on the table. Jumping into a relationship with the expectation that it’s doomed is a disservice to what might be something wonderful. Think about Markie and me, we didn’t start off on the best footing. She had her judgments, and I had my pride, but we pushed past it. Honestly, I can’t imagine my life without her. You owe it at least to yourself to give it a real shot. Who knows? You and Maggie might just share something extraordinary. Unless, of course, the sex was bad.”

Rafe’s lips curled into a small, amused smile as he met Nate’s tilted gaze. “It wasn’t bad. It was... incredible.”

“If the chemistry is that undeniable, then go for it. And if it turns out that it was just a fluke, you both can move on.” Nate exhaled sharply. “You know, she lives just up the street, above the shop. Why not talk to her?”

Checking his watch, Rafe noted, “It’s already ten o’clock. She might be in bed.”

“Or maybe she’s just relaxing in front of the TV. Stop making excuses, Rafe. I really think you two should see if there’s something more there.”

Rafe ran a hand along his jaw, conflicted yet determined. “I suppose I could drive over.”

“Take a chance, my friend. I did, and I’ve never looked back. I’m going home to my woman. Talk to you tomorrow,” Nate said as he began making his way around his truck.

“Alright,” Rafe murmured.

Nate opened the door of his truck, stepped onto the running board, and glanced back over the roof at Rafe. “I’d better not see your headlights tailing behind me.”

Rafe chuckled, his voice low and teasing. “I’d give you a good start before I left.”

“Just go see her. Damn it, you are the most stubborn man I know.”

“That’s rich coming from you—the pot calling the kettle black. You head home to Markie. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

With that, Nate started his truck, the engine rumbling as he drove out of the crowded parking lot. Rafe stood for a moment, watching the retreating taillights as his thoughts weighed heavily upon him. With a deep, contemplative sigh, he climbed into his own truck and started the engine. As he eased to the end of the parking lot, he faced a silent decision: a left turn would lead him home, while a right turn would steer him into town.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath, determination hardening his features as he turned right onto Main Street.

Chapter Five

Maggie sat on the couch, eyes fixed on the flickering TV screen where a movie played, its dialogue and scenes slipping past her unheeded. Fatigue weighed heavily on her, yet sleep remained elusive, teasing her from the edges of her consciousness. The movie, a cascade of colors and sounds, was little more than a distraction from her restless thoughts.

She glanced at the clock, the hands creeping just past ten. The realization struck her; morning was inevitable, and she needed sleep, needed to close her eyes and drift away from the turmoil in her mind.

“Damn you, Rafe Marshall,” she muttered to the empty room, her voice a soft echo against the walls.

Her thoughts spun back to sex with Rafe, the intensity of it searing in her memory. It had been an encounter like no other, leaving her yearning for more. But she knew he didn’t reciprocate those feelings, a painful truth that gnawed at her heart. A single tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek, and she wiped it away with frustration.

Seeking solace, she decided on a hot, soothing bath. She’d taken a shower earlier, but she needed something to ease this tension inside her. The Afghan draped over her legs was pushed aside as she sat up and stood, her movements sluggish with exhaustion. Just as the promise of warm water beckoned, a noise from outside stilled her, a sudden intrusion into her solitude.

“What was that?” she whispered to herself, tiptoeing cautiously toward the door. Pressing an eye to the peephole, she was met with darkness. Her heart skipped a beat when a knock resounded through the stillness. Who could it be at this hour?

“Maggie? It’s Rafe.” His voice, familiar and unexpected, sent a jolt through her. She gasped softly, stepping closer to the door,her fingers finding the switch to illuminate the outside light. Peering through the peephole once more, she saw him standing there, his gaze fixed intently on the door. Resting her forehead against the hard metal, she pondered his sudden appearance.

“Only one way to find out,” she murmured to herself, steeling her nerves. Clearing her throat, she called out, “Rafe? What are you doing here this late?”

“I was at Dewey’s. I think we should talk.” His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken intent.

“Oh, boy.” Maggie exhaled a long sigh, unlocking the door and pulling it open to face him. “About what?”

He met her gaze with a knowing smirk. “I believe you know.”

“Are you drunk?” she asked, searching his eyes for signs of inebriation.

“No. I had two beers. Are you going to let me in, or should I leave?”

Their eyes locked in a silent understanding, she realized they indeed needed to talk. With a resigned nod, she swung the door open wider, stepping aside to let him pass. He removed his hat, wiped his feet on the mat, then moved past her, the scent of his aftershave lingered in the air, enveloping her senses. She closed the door with a soft thud, sealing them inside her apartment as he hung his hat on a hook.

She observed him as he glanced around the room, his gaze eventually settling on her.

---