𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 | 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

０２６．

Being home was not good for Rafe. There were good parts, like seeing Wheezie every day, like feeling like a brother again, and those were all that kept him sane. But the bad parts, like his temper getting the best of him until he could barely see straight, were most of the time. Rafe was scared he was actually, truly going to snap.

And it came back with a vengeance, that constant and insatiable, bone-deep need for coke. It hadn't been so bad since the day Rafe thought his father died. He didn't know what it meant that his return to his father is what made the cravings so bad now.

All he knew was that they were there, and that if he didn't get something in his system he might have a breakdown that would put what happened in Nassau to shame. And Rafe was past that, he was done losing control like he used to, so things were getting dire. He was going to have to figure out a way to take control back.

Even if it meant embracing his addiction like an old friend after he'd tried so hard to kick the habit. If being around his father for only three weeks could do that to him, Rafe didn't want to think about what the next few years would look like.

But the next few years didn't matter, not right now. All that was important now was figuring out a way to get past his Dad and get coke. Which would have been fine, maybe even easy, if he had a dealer. But the only dealer he knew of would probably never forgive him for leaving her like he did, and he didn't know if he could go through with seeing said drug dealer after spending the last twenty-something days staring back at her island and fighting the tidal wave of emotion that came with that sight.

So, there were a lot of reasons why this wouldn't go Rafe's way. Not to mention that his father under no circumstances trusted him with the keys to the boat anymore, and on the rare occasions that Rafe did return to Sainte-Anne to help Ward with something, he was watched like a fucking hawk. Ward wasn't about to lose Rafe again, that much was painfully clear.

But Rafe didn't know when the last time he'd slept soundly was, and his anxiety was getting so bad that he could barely even think, and every time he did get any sleep he woke with night terrors that would leave him shaking until the sun came back. He had to find a way around his father's restrictions. He had to.

And the only plan that made any sense was to go about it like he was fifteen again, sneaking out of the house while his family slept and returning before anyone awoke. It was a shaky plan at best, a guarantee that he'd further infuriate his father at worst. But Rafe was already essentially grounded, so he figured that besides a few harsh scoldings from his father, there was quite literally nothing else Ward could do to him.

Besides maybe killing him, which Rafe had suspected his father more and more of trying to do to Sarah recently. Shit he'd seen on the boat, rumors he'd heard... Rafe had been piecing things together since his return to his family's home. But that wasn't the point.

He waited until long after Ward's snores rattled the fucking walls, sitting idly on the edge of his bed until he was absolutely, completely certain that his father was fast asleep. This whole scheme hinged on getting off of the island before his father could find out – it didn't matter what happened after that. He just had to get to Sainte-Anne, and he'd figure out the rest of it later. Just get the keys to the cruiser, get the fuck out, and that was all he needed to do. Rafe hoped that by the time he returned, he'd have enough coke in his system that he could apply some actual logic to the situation anyways.

All of the old floorboards were too rickety, too creaky as Rafe tried to make his way over them. He'd seen Ward toss the keys onto the table just by the door just a day or so ago – if he could get there without waking everyone within a several-mile radius, he'd be free as a bird. But navigating those fucking floorboards was a task in itself, and it wasn't until his head started spinning that Rafe realized he was holding his breath.