𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 | 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

０１６．

Rafe had his shit all figured out.

All of it. He'd risen with the sun, managing to untangle himself from Ren without waking her, and he'd gone home despite his every instinct willing him to stay.

It'd been a well-rewarded choice, because just like the last time Rafe had returned, Ward was waiting on the front porch. This time, though, his father's features were soft. Caring, almost, as he greeted his son.

Rafe had remained cautious, watching silent and stiff as Ward wobbled over to him and gripped his face in his hands, looking into his eyes carefully. Scanning for any signs of a high, Rafe wagered. But he'd tossed the remnants of his stash into the sea on his drive back, and against all odds, he'd denied Ren's offers for coke throughout the night.

He was painfully sober, and Ward seemed pleased to see it, even though his gaze snagged for a little too long on the bruises blooming along Rafe's cheekbone and jaw, courtesy of Cain.

His father's smile was slightly foreign in the wake of their brutal argument, and Rafe wasn't sure if it was the withdrawals paranoia or if Ward was laying it on thick in an effort to fake his pleasantness. Regardless, Rafe had smiled back, allowing his father to pull him into an embrace.

And when Ward had clapped him on the back, telling him that the bad times just made their family stronger and urging him to return to the boat because they had business to attend to with the cross, Rafe hadn't argued. In fact, he'd made a show of helping his father untie the boat and guide it back into the channel despite his trembling hands and the rabid exhaustion clinging to his every movement.

He'd even managed to keep his footsteps steady once they were off the boat and back in Sainte-Anne, maintaining the usual confidence in his stride despite every step being unsteady as his withdrawals ravaged his consciousness. He felt as manic and unbalanced as ever, but he was confident that on the outside, he was calm, cool and collected.

He had his shit together, and Rafe was going to make damn sure it stayed that way.

And then Ren came sauntering out of the Coastal Venture, and she was fucking smiling in that way that killed him every time, and he most certainly no longer had his shit together.

Rafe stopped right in his fucking tracks, gaping at her as she tossed that grin at his father and then at him as she passed. She wrinkled her nose as she tapped it, saying something too-casually about how crazy it was to see him there, and his brain couldn't process a damn thing about any of it.

She'd sold enough to the crew on the Coastal Venture to last them several weeks, he knew that. They wouldn't need her back there for a good while. So why was she there, especially so early, and when it appeared that most of the crew wasn't even present?

He watched her closely, scanning her face for any cracks in her facade. Her smile just broadened, and she waved an unbothered goodbye as she strode toward the beach.

When he turned back to Ward, Rafe's chest tightened. His father was many, many things, but a fool wasn't one of them -- and the way he glanced between Rafe and Ren told him that Ward had figured enough of their relationship for it to be a veritable thorn in Rafe's side.

"Is that who you've been staying with when you sleep here?" Ward asked, lethally quiet as they continued toward the Coastal Venture. "Or is she your dealer?"

Both.

"Neither."

Ward cast a disbelieving glance his son's way, and Rafe shrugged, schooling his features into neutrality. "Yeah, she's -- uh, she's got a thing going with Mack. Met her the other day when I was talking to Eberhimi."