Chapter 24 #2
Rafe stares at me like he’s trying to see me through fog. Then something in him cracks. He swallows hard, like he’s holding back vomit or tears or both. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
His apology doesn’t fix anything, but it hits anyway. I step closer and offer him the water. His hand shakes when he takes it. I offer the painkillers, and he stares at them like they’re a confession.
“Rafe,” I say again, softer. “This isn’t you.”
His laugh is broken. “You don’t know what I am anymore.”
The words hurt, especially as he thinks they’re true. Maybe they are. I force myself to breathe. “You need to stop drinking.”
Rafe stiffens instantly. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” I say.
He sets the water down too hard. “I’m just having a good time.”
I almost laugh. It’s that absurd. Instead, I keep my voice gentle, because if I push too hard, he’ll run. “You’re spiraling,” I say. “And you’re doing it where everyone can see.”
His eyes flash. “So now you’re worried about optics?”
“No,” I snap, and the sharpness surprises even me. I rein it in quickly. “I’m worried about you.”
Rafe looks at me for a long moment. And for the first time since I entered the room, he looks scared. Not angry. Not defensive. Scared. Like he’s been hoping someone would stop him. And now that someone finally is, he doesn’t know whether to fight or fall.
I take a careful breath. “We talked to Rachael.”
Rafe’s face hardens instantly. “No.”
“We did,” I say. “And we organized something.”
His eyes narrow. “Rehab?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck off.”
I expected it. I did, but it still knocks the air from my lungs.
“Rafe—”
“No,” he says harshly. “No. I’m not doing that. I’m not—Jesus Christ, Ollie—”
I step closer, voice dropping. “Are you reaching for a bottle the second you get out of bed?”
His mouth opens, then closes. His eyes flick away. The pause answers me, which makes my stomach drop. “Sometimes,” he admits finally, barely audible.
My heart lurches violently. That is not a party problem. It’s not a rough month or a bad night. That is something else. Something deeper. Something hungrier.
I blink hard. “Okay,” I say, forcing steadiness. “Then you need to go. Just… think of it like a retreat. You rest. You reset. You breathe.”
Rafe’s eyes look glassy. “I don’t need—”
“Yes, you do,” I say softly. “You do.”
His throat bobs. He nods once. Small and reluctant. Defeated. “Fine,” he whispers.
Relief hits me so hard I almost collapse, but it lasts about two seconds. We’re at the part I’ve been trying not to touch since last night. The part that has been waiting for me like a cliff edge.
I swallow, ensuring I sound calm. “Rafe.”
He looks at me warily.
I step closer, careful. “I love you,” I say quietly. “I always will.”
Rafe’s expression softens instinctively at the words, like his body still remembers how to lean into love.
Then I keep going. “But I’m hurting you.”
His brow furrows. “Ollie—”
“I am,” I insist. “I’ve put you in this situation. I’ve asked you to carry my fear. I’ve asked you to edit your life around me. I’ve asked you to be strong enough for both of us.”
Rafe’s eyes sharpen. “Stop.”
“I can’t keep asking you to live in my shadows,” I say, voice breaking. “I can’t.”
The room goes still. Even the air feels like it stops moving.
Rafe’s face drains of color in slow motion. “What are you saying?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
My throat burns. “I’m saying we need to separate.”
He stares at me like he doesn’t understand the words. Like his brain refuses to translate them. Then the anger hits, fast and bright. “Fuck off,” he snaps. “No. No, you don’t get to do this.”
“I’m not trying to punish you,” I say desperately. “I’m trying to save you.”
“Save me?” Rafe laughs, sharp and ugly. “From what? From loving you?” His eyes flash. “Is this because of last night?”
“No,” I say. Then the truth claws up. “It’s not even that.”
He takes a step closer, voice shaking with fury. “Then what? You’ve been waiting for an excuse? A reason to finally—”
“No,” I interrupt, voice breaking. “Stop.”
He’s breathing hard now, like he’s the one on the edge of panic. “I swear to God, that has never happened before,” he says, too fast. “I’ve never—Ollie, I would never—”
“I know,” I whisper, because I do. I do know that.
Rafe’s anger falters, confusion slipping in. “Then why are you doing this?”
Because if it has happened before, would you even know? The thought is poisonous, so I don’t say it. I say the real thing instead, the one that hurts worse. “Because I’m ruining you.”
His eyes widen.
I swallow hard. “I’m not the reason you started drinking,” I say. “I’m not the reason you’re tired. I’m not the reason the industry chews people up. But I am—” My voice cracks. “I am the reason you can’t come home to a life that’s fully yours.”
His face twists, pain cutting through him. “You’re my life.”
“And I’m the one keeping you in the dark,” I whisper.
Silence drops again.
Rafe’s voice goes quiet. Deadly. “You don’t get to decide what ruins me.”
I stare at him through tears I didn’t feel start. “I need to do this,” I manage. “For you. And for me.”
His eyes glisten. He looks like he might break in half. Then he says it—low, absolute, and fucking heartbreaking: “I won’t divorce you.”
My breath catches.
Rafe takes another step closer. His voice shakes, but it doesn’t waver. “I won’t stop being your husband.”
I stare at him. The words hit like a vow. Like a chain. Like love turned into something heavier than love.
“Rafe…,” I whisper.
He shakes his head once, eyes shining. “No. You can leave. You can run. You can do whatever you need to do. But I’m not signing anything. I’m not letting this turn into something that didn’t matter.”
My chest collapses inward. I nod slowly because I can’t fight him. I don’t have the right. Not when he’s saying it like that.
Not when he looks at me like I’m still his home.
“I won’t argue,” I whisper.
Rafe flinches like he wanted me to. Like he wanted a fight. Instead, he just closes his eyes, breathing hard. When he opens them again, he looks wrecked.
And still standing.
I reach for him, because instinct wins. Because love wins. Because I can’t not touch him.
He lets me.
We hug. He clings to me so tightly it feels like he’s trying to fuse us back together by force.
I press my mouth to his hair, shaking. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“I love you,” he says hoarsely.
“I love you too,” I say, voice breaking completely. And then I make myself step back.
Rafe doesn’t reach for me again. He just watches me, silent, devastated. As if he knows and finally understands that this isn’t a threat—it’s an ending.
I wipe my face quickly, ashamed of the tears. “Go to rehab,” I say softly. “Please. Just… go.”
Rafe nods once. He doesn’t promise. He doesn’t argue. He just nods. And something about that nod makes my heart split open.
I turn and walk out of the room before I can change my mind. Before I can throw myself back into his arms and pretend love is enough to fix what fear has done.
Downstairs, voices quiet when I appear. Rachael looks up first. Her expression shifts instantly.
Miles stands. “Ollie—”
I shake my head. “He agreed,” I say, voice raw. “He’ll go.”
Relief floods the room, but it doesn’t touch me. How can it when I can already feel it? The shape of what comes after.
I leave the mansion without saying much else. Vinny offers to drive me, but I refuse. I don’t trust myself to sit in the same car as anyone right now.
I just walk.
Down the driveway. Past the gates. Into a street that looks exactly the same as it did yesterday, indifferent and bright.
My hands shake. My chest aches. My body feels like it’s been hollowed out.
And even as I walk, I can still feel Rafe’s arms around me. I can still hear his voice: “I won’t stop being your husband.”
The words should comfort me. They don’t. They haunt me.
I know what I’ve done, what I’ve chosen. And with sick certainty, I know that the person who will carry this pain the longest won’t be me. It will be him.
I keep walking anyway, because I love him. And because loving him is the only thing I’ve ever done right.
Even now.
Especially now.
Read on for Chapter One of Mending Hearts, the dual POV, final book in the Chords & Courts trilogy—a deeply emotional, hard-won HEA about devotion, resilience, found family, and choosing each other out loud.