The salty breeze off the marsh was cool, a sharp contrast to the humid summer air. You were sitting on the hood of Rafe's pickup truck, swinging your legs over the edge while the low hum of the radio played in the background. Rafe leaned back against the truck right next to you, a quiet smirk playing on his lips as he looked out over the dark water. For once, he seemed relaxed—no phone calls from Ward, no pressure from his Figure Eight friends, and no tension with John B. "You know, if your brother knew you were out here with me right now, he'd probably lose his mind," Rafe said softly, turning his head to look up at you. His eyes held that intense, magnetic focus he only ever showed when the two of you were alone. He shifted closer, resting his hand on the truck hood right next to your leg, his fingers brushing against yours. "Honestly? I don't really care," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as he looked at you. "This is the only part of my day that actually makes sense lately. So... are you gonna tell him about us, Iris, or are we keeping this our little secret a bit longer?"