Page 21 of Harvest Season in Kentbury
But when Raffa speaks, it’s quiet, controlled.“It wasn’t you.You didn’t deserve any of that.”
I meet his gaze, and there’s no pity in it.Just anger—directed at Bryce—and something else I can’t quite name.It makes me feel ...seen.Like maybe I wasn’t so wrong to trust him with this.
“Don’t blame yourself for his bullshit,” Raffa says, his voice gruff but threaded with something softer, almost gentle.“You were never the problem.He was.”
I nod, trying to keep it together, but the weight I’ve been carrying around for so long feels just a little lighter.Saying it out loud—it helped, more than I expected.
Raffa tilts my chin up, his hand warm against my skin, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.His eyes lock with mine, and everything around us seems to fade.I don’t move, my heart pounding in my chest as he leans in closer, slow and deliberate.My breath catches, and before I can overthink it, his lips brush against mine.
The kiss is soft, almost hesitant at first, like he’s testing the waters.But then, it deepens—slow and tender, the kind of kiss that feels like it’s mending something broken inside me.It’s not just a kiss.It’s comfort.Healing.And God, I realize how much I needed this.
When we finally pull apart, his forehead rests against mine for a moment, both of us catching our breath.He looks at me, his expression almost regretful.“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice rougher now.“I shouldn’t have?—”
“Don’t apologize,” I say, cutting him off, my voice quiet but steady.“I liked it.Maybe ...maybe I needed it.”
He blinks, clearly not expecting that, and for a second, I see a flicker of something—relief, maybe—in his eyes.“Maybe I needed it too,” he admits, his voice softer now.“I’m sorry someone treated you like that.You’re beautiful, inside and out.”
I want to believe that, I really do.And maybe I’m starting to, but it’s still hard.What Bryce did to me—it’s too fucking hard to erase.Or maybe it’s not just about erasing it.Maybe I’m scared I’m not strong enough to keep from being broken again.That no matter what I do, someone will find a way to chip away at me.
“Is that why you’re always so busy?”he asks.“Trying to be enough for everyone?”
“At the beginning, yeah,” I confess.“But then it became part of who I am.I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.But I learned to balance it.And once I figured that out, that’s when I started planning the gallery.”
I pause, trying to catch my breath, and before I can even process it, Raffa reaches across and gently folds my hand into his.His thumb traces slow circles along the side of my hand, and I feel a flutter in my stomach.An ache stirs deep inside me, but I shove it aside, focusing on the way his touch somehow soothes me.It gives me the strength to keep talking.
“That makes sense,” he says.“But can you tell me why you ran earlier?”
I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the truth pressing down on me.“A few months ago, Bryce started texting me from an unknown number.At first, I responded, told him I didn’t want to talk.But the more I said that, the more he texted.Finally, I stopped answering.
“For a while, the messages stopped, and I thought maybe he’d finally given up.But then, a few weeks ago, I got another one.I didn’t answer it.Then another one came the other day, and just now ...He says that since I refuse to respond, he’s coming here.To talk to me in person.I’m scared.”
I watch as Raffa’s jaw tightens.His expression hardens, and I can see a mix of emotions swirling in his eyes—anger, frustration, maybe even protectiveness.It makes me wonder what he’s been through in his relationships.If he knows what this feels like.
“I think it’s time you stand up to him,” he says, his fingers still laced with mine.“He’s never going to stop if you don’t.Have you tried getting a restraining order?”
“I asked,” I say, shaking my head.“But they said it would most likely be denied since he hasn’t physically harmed me.”
“There’s another option,” he says.“A no-contact order.It’s similar to a restraining order, but it can prevent online and phone harassment too.”
I nod, but my mind keeps circling back to one thing.“He’s coming,” I remind him, my voice small.
Raffa nods, his face darkening.“I’ll handle that.If the authorities don’t do anything, we’ll get a private security company involved.Bryce won’t get near you.I swear.”
“Thank you for trying,” I say, feeling a little more reassured, though my nerves are still buzzing.
“Since I’m not sure when the security will arrive,” he adds, “I’ll be happy to sleep on your couch tonight.Just in case.”
I can’t help but smile at his offer.I shake my head, picturing his tall frame squeezed onto my tiny couch.He’d be so uncomfortable.There’s no way that’ll work.And the thought of him in my space, even just sleeping there, sends a shiver through me.
My couch won’t fit him, but my bed ...The thought pops into my head before I can stop it, and my cheeks heat up immediately.The idea of him staying the night, of us sharing the same space—it feels dangerous.Intimate.
“No, I’ll be okay,” I say quickly, trying to shake the image from my mind.“He’s not supposed to be here until tomorrow.And with everyone around for the festival, I’m sure he won’t try anything.”
Raffa gives me a long look, like he’s weighing his options, but eventually, he nods.“Alright.But if anything feels off, you call me.No matter what time it is.”
ChapterSixteen
Raffa
