It was a drive that took the rest of the night, the next day, and the day after that. Rafe was careful to act calmly, consideringly, but it only put me on my edge. Any questions he asked me, I answered simply. Any frustrations he tried to express, and I stayed quiet. It was childish. What was he going to do, leave me to hitchhike my own ride all the way to my new apartment? We were stuck together for a while, and I didn’t know what to do or say.

Rafe was kind enough. He left me alone after a while, but all the quiet did was reinforce everything I did miss about him since the last time he’d been in town, and everything I realized I’d forgotten too. Like the music station he liked to play was the same he’d play on weeknights when we were at his place and he was catching up on his reading after work. Like he scratched the side of his eyelid whenever he was trying to refrain from cursing someone else on the road. Like the fact this cold distance between us was all my fault.

We arrived in the afternoon, after a quiet brunch where Rafe asked me when I’d start work. He was looking down at his phone, sending out some texts for work.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I’m supposed to start Monday.” Today was Thursday. I’d been planning on spending the weekend unpacking. The Sunday reflecting. I watched him nod with half an ear and wondered if this was what it was like being Rafe, finding it so easy to compartmentalize love and work life.

The apartment wasn’t that big or hard to miss. I could feel Rafe’s eyes making a judgmental, calculative sweep of the premises as we were given the tour of the facilities. He disappeared after I spent a few minutes chatting with the landlord, but he showed up after I had finished unloading unload the jeep and was trying to unpack in my new lodgings. I hadn’t been counting the time or him to help, but from the look on his face—drawn and peevish—he’d definitely been.

“You should’ve waited for me,” Rafe said, stepping past the front door. He was built enough his shadow practically encased mine. Then, maybe realizing how this might’ve been too much, he took a few steps back. “Listen, I’ve looked around and done some digging. This place isn’t any good. Find another one.”

I tore my eyes away and back to my box of books, emptying out into the little shelf that’d been a part of the apartment. All furniture provided for, courtesy of management. Judging by the stains on the floorboards, maybe it was better I didn’t check under molten fabric and the wooden legs beyond a cursory locator spell for wayward curses or grudges. “It’s a bit late for that.” I didn’t have much to my name if you thought about it.

“Did you pay a deposit? How much did you pay?”

As if I hadn’t just cried at him days ago. “It doesn’t work like that.” I hated doing research. But I didn’t want Rafe to be the one doing it. “I’ll probably be here for at least a months. I might stay. It’s a hassle to find some place else.”

“Your company gave this as temporary housing?” Rafe looked around, inspecting the place. He tested the door with a hand, and then a frown. “Listen. Your building smells like magic. It’s wrong.”

“What,” I said. “Like I’m wrong?”

Rafe snapped his head up with a scowl. Instead of answering, he said, “That’s not it.”

“You said magic smells wrong.”

“I’m saying this building’s magic. Yours is fine.” He lowered his voice. “It’s always been fine for me, but maybe I’ve been misinterpreting what your definition of fine is.” He leaned his hip against the door jam, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Can we talk about what happened at the convenience store, Tai?”

I couldn’t meet his eyes. “What’s there to talk about?” Even in hindsight, I felt shame curl into my stomach at how easily I’d cried.

“We fought,” Rafe said. “I’d like to talk about that. And why.”

We’d fought exactly maybe two times before. Rafe wasn’t someone who fought or argued a lot, and for myself, I tried not to create conflict. He usually expected himself to be in the right, or he tried to understand if I felt otherwise. But he had a temper, one that I half-admired at times for all his righteousness. It scared me too, at times, for how easily he could turn so cold when he needed to, just like he had when he’d showed me his teeth.

Werewolf magic was particular in language, in command. Not at all like the magic I held, but it was still magic. And I understood, intellectually, why Rafe had done it. Two different magics cancel out. I was getting out of control. And yet, he’d done it at me.

“It happened,” I said. “And…” He pulled himself off the door jamb and made his way to sit down next to me. The warmth of his elbow felt inviting, but I shifted myself to face him, moving my arm out of the way. “You know what I want.”

Rafe looked sad. I felt my heart squeeze. “You mean break up.”

I had to blink rapidly, sucking in air. “…Yeah.”

“How long have you wanted to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you even know why? We barely see each other.” He read my hesitation. “Is that why? Because I’m not in town a lot?”

“No.” How could I even put it into words? Everything I’d say would just…it wouldn’t make sense. “It’s just. I can’t, Rafe. I can’t do this.”

He took my hand into both of his. “Look at me,” he said, quietly. I did, guilty. “You need to explain to me why. Don't make me guess, because that’s not fair to me, Tai. It really isn’t,” his voice grew tight, angry, “and I don’t deserve callousness.”

My promised, Anshal had called Rafe. More like my heart, I thought. I didn’t want this. I didn’t.

"I know," I said.

I leaned my forehead against his shoulder and closed my eyes. Rafe held me. My hands twisted into the fabric of his jacket, at his waist.

He moved slightly, and I felt it shift under my hands, and I remembered, remembered, remembered that day when we had been happy and we’d been stupid clumsy, and he’d bit the side of my mouth after we kissed, and that was so funny because he was usually careful about these things, and it had been hard to get his stupid shirt off because he had to wear them an entire size smaller, but his waist had moved with each belly laugh under my hands and his grin had been toothy and I loved him so much, I had never loved so much, I still love—

I had to contain myself, I thought.

I swallowed, clenching my hands tighter before I released them. I slipped my hands up between us and placed them up his chest, to his neck, to his pulse.

Rafe didn’t move an inch. Even now, he trusted me so much. I could kill him just as I had accidentally killed that girl, and even this close, he wouldn’t have been able to stop me. It made me sick. How could he trust me like this?

He nosed my ear, brushed his cheek against mine. Familiar, trying to soothe, and I knew his pattern. He’d kiss me next, try to pacify my feelings out of me that way.

“I hate it,” I told him, hoarse. I didn’t think I could bear it if he did.

He drew back. “Hate what?”

“I hate the fact that I can’t feel proud with you, or of you,” I said. It was all the right feelings, but they were the wrong words—I could tell it by his gaze. I swallowed. “Rafe, it’s not—I care about you. A lot. But you don’t know how…why. Do you know why that accident happened? That convenience store accident, too. My emotions are messing me up. I'm...”

His hand curled around my cheek. A quiet prompt.

I lost my courage. I drew my face away. “I'm not ready. I’m sorry. Can we go back to unpacking?”

If Rafe was disappointed in me, he kept it quiet.