The moment Raye reached the tall black gate, her chest tightened. It wasn't just nerves — it was that stupid mixture of guilt, panic, and the fact that her heart had been thudding against her ribs since Jane sent ken's address.
She hesitated before pressing the small silver intercom button, but before she could, the gate suddenly slid open on its own.
"Automatic?" she muttered, blinking at the smooth movement. "Of course. Because normal doors are for peasants."
Rod's Dodge Challenger purred out of the driveway like it was in some car commercial — matte gray, shining under the cloudy afternoon light, the kind of car that practically said 'I'm not loud, I'm legendary.'
The driver's window rolled down, and there he was — Rod, sunglasses on even though the sun was hiding.
"Oh, you're here," he said casually, like she hadn't just crossed half the city half-panicking over Kyle.
"Yeah…" she breathed out, fingers gripping her bag strap. "I—uh—wanted to check on him."
Rod nodded, resting his arm on the window frame. "He's inside. Upstairs, I think." He pressed a small remote, and the gate began closing behind her again with a smooth whirr.
Raye blinked. "You guys have a gate button?"
"Yup," he said, smirking. "One click, and the world stays out."
He reached for the gearshift, the Challenger growling again. "Anyway, I gotta head out—errands. Kyle's been in a mood. Good luck with that."
"Thanks," she said uncertainly.
"Don't thank me yet," he added, pointing over his shoulder. "If he bites, just throw a pillow at him."
And with that, Rod was gone — his car roaring away, leaving a faint smell of burnt rubber and expensive cologne.
Raye turned toward the house, clutching her phone. Her eyes widened when she saw another car parked beside where Rod's had been — sleek, dark, predatory.
Kyle's Mustang GT.
"Of course it's black," she muttered under her breath, walking past it. "He'd probably sleep in this thing if it had a bed."
She couldn't help but glance back once more, comparing it to Rod's. The Mustang looked wild — like trouble in car form — while Rod's Challenger seemed like the strong, silent person who drove responsibly.
Two personalities, two engines, one house.
And speaking of the house—
"Do college boys even have landlords?" she whispered, staring up at the massive two-story building. It wasn't just big — it was the kind of place you'd expect an architect or an influencer to own. Huge glass panels, marble porch, a pool glinting faintly at the side.
She hesitated at the front door, pressing the bell. No answer.
"Oh my God," she whispered, half-panicking, half–ready to flee. "What if I just walked into a mansion that's not even theirs? What if Kyle's, like, squatting here? What if security—"
The door wasn't locked.
She stepped in quietly, her heartbeat thudding too loudly in her ears. The house was still, cold, and almost eerily neat, except for the broken pieces of glass scattered near the couch. A framed photo lay face down on the floor.
Raye exhaled shakily, clutching her bag as she stepped inside wondering if this was right .
The place smelled like cedarwood and something expensive — with black furniture, clean lines, and big windows. Everything screamed masculine, minimalist, and slightly intimidating.
She was in awe for a second, wondering if the two of them actually lived here alone or if some hidden adult was in charge.
They can't possibly live here unsupervised… right? she thought, frowning.
Raye stopped herself from smacking her head . Of course they could live hear _ they weren't that small or under eighteen .
But damn , this place looks like it should have a butler, a chef, and a ghost or two.
Then her stomach twisted again. She wasn't here to admire furniture. She was here for him.
Her heart squeezed as she walked down the hallway before coming into the sitting room
And there he was.
Kyle sat on the couch in a gray joggers and a dark T-shirt, his hair slightly wet — probably from a shower.
Raye froze, her words evaporating. The panic in her chest exploded all over again.
For a heartbeat, she just stood there — her heart pounding, staring at him .
It felt like it had been days since she last saw him and gosh he looked like he wasn't alright .
But even then, she couldn't help but notice the faint bruise near his jaw, the red scrape on his knuckles.
"Kyle, I—" she started softly.
Kyle?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
Raye cleared her throat.
No response.
She walked closer, standing directly in front of the screen.
Kyle finally looked up.
Stone-cold silence.
Something like shocked crossed his features for a minute _ and after a blink it was gone .
Wasn't he even happy or at least suprised to see her .
"Rod let you in?" His voice was dark and a little edgy as he stared at her with a frown .
"Yeah. He said you were inside."
He gave a short nod, looking away. "Figures."
She spoke fast before she chickened out.
"Look. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hug Joshua like that—it just happened, and I wasn't thinking, and you were hurt, and I—"
"Why are you here?" he said, voice low.
"Because I miss you."
Silence.
"I was stupid," she whispered, biting her inside cheek in sheer frustration and panick .
"That's not new."
Her eyes burned. "Kyle…"
He exhaled and stood, towering slightly over her. His eyes didn't hold the same warmth. Only frustration.
"Do you even get it, Raye?" he asked, voice shaking. "I don't just like you. I care about you. And you keep proving you don't know what to do with that."
"That's not true—"
"You still treat me like I'm replaceable."
"I don't!" she said quickly, grabbing his hand. "I panicked. I didn't want to hurt you—I didn't even know you were there—"
"I was there, Raye," he said, pulling his hand back. "Bleeding. Angry. Yours."
The last word hit her like a brick.
"I don't want to keep playing these games," he added.
She stared at him. Quiet. Small.
"…Then let me fix it."
He didn't answer.
Instead, he turned slightly, walking towards the stairs .
Raye wasn't ready to be ignored again , last one lasted for three days so instead of crying and feeling hopeless standing in the quiet sitting room she followed him upstairs .
The door slammed behind her as she stepped inside, heart hammering like a drum in a storm.
Kyle didn't say a word.
He didn't turn around.
He just stood by the window, fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white. The soft breeze fluttered the curtains, but nothing softened him.
"Get out, Raye."
The words were cold and sharp.
She swallowed. "Not until you talk to me."
His jaw tightened. The tension in the room thickened, making it hard to breathe.
"I said get out."
Raye second sends told her to run at the second warning _ or throw a pillow at him like rod suggested earlier , but she did none
Her voice cracked but she managed to say . "You don't get to shut me out after everything."
He finally spun to face her, eyes burning with anger and something deeper — hurt? Fear? She couldn't tell.
"What everything?" he snapped. "What do we even have that's worth fighting for? Because I'm starting to think it's all just in my head."
She took a cautious step forward. "I know I messed up. But I'm here. Now."
He laughed, bitter and harsh. "You keep messing up, Raye. You keep treating me like I'm nothing. Like I'm someone who'll always be there, no matter how many times you push me away."
Tears threatened, but she blinked them back.
"I came because I care."
His face twisted with pain and frustration.
"No, you came because you hate feeling guilty. Because when I finally start to pull away, you panic."
She reached out, trembling.
"Kyle, please…"
He shoved her hand away like it burned him.
Her whole body jolted backwards, stumbling over the carpet.
She steadied herself, chest heaving.
He stood rigid, fists clenched again.
"I didn't mean to push you," he said quickly, voice breaking. "But I'm tired. I'm so tired."
She looked at him, heart cracking.
"I don't know how to be around you without feeling like I'm losing control. Like I'll get hurt again and maybe I might end up hurting you ."kyle growled fisting his hair . " Shit , it's complicated".
Her voice was barely a whisper. "You're not the only one scared."
He stared at her, eyes glassy but fierce.
"I don't want to lose you," she said, stepping closer. "But I'm scared you don't want me."
He didn't answer. She walked closer cautiously, the air between them taut and heavy. When he finally faced her, the anger in his eyes faltered, replaced by exhaustion… and something that looked too much like pain.
"I did something wrong I know ," she whispered. "And you didn't do anything wrong . You were protecting me."
His jaw flexed. "That's not the point. You shouldn't have to see that side of me."
Raye blinked back tears. "You think I care about that?"
He stayed quiet.
Her voice cracked. "Why do you keep pushing me away? You're angry, I get that—but you think I came here because I'm scared of you?"
Kyle's breath hitched, his hand clenched. "Raye—"
"No," she said quickly, stepping forward, her voice trembling but firm. "I came because I care. Because… I love you."
The words slipped out like an exhale she'd been holding too long. The silence that followed was deafening.
Kyle froze, his expression unreadable, his chest rising and falling unevenly.
Then, without another word, Raye reached forward and wrappee an arm around his waist .
A part of thought that he would shove her again ; but he did nothing .
At least she could manage that .
Her cheek pressed against his firm chest , feeling the rigid tension under his skin. "I love you, okay? Even if you don't believe it, even if you think you don't deserve it."
"I love you Kyle ".