THE CUT

this was how it always went

3

RAFE

Rafe was still hungover when his father called him into his office at the end of the hall. He was just on his way out when Ward caught him. What perfect timing. If his father were anybody else, maybe Rafe could get away with brushing him off, saying he's late to meet someone at the Country Club—he was running late to meet Topper to lift weights—but it was Ward. So, Rafe turned and followed his stoic-gazed father into his mahogany office.

This was how it always went; things around the house would be cool and calm for a while. Rafe would start to feel a little more at ease. Then, Ward would call his name, and Rafe would know he was in trouble. His mind races back each time, combs over nearly everything he's done since the last time Ward called him into the office. Sometimes, he can't think of a single thing.

As Rafe eases into one of the squeaky, buttery leather chairs opposite Ward, he realizes what this is about.

Ward sighs and settles into his chair. He moves papers around like an exhausted principal having, yet again, to deal with the school's biggest troublemaker.

"Rafe," he begins, "how many times have I told you how important our appearance is?"

Usually, Ward leaves subtle hints as to what his lecture will be about, by asking vague questions like that. This time, though, Rafe can't wrack his brain for a clear answer.

"Our family name is well-known around this island," Ward goes on. "The whole island."

Rafe knows that. He knows that better than his sisters, better than Rose.

"People talk."

"Who?" he says.

"Who?" Ward's chair squeaks as he leans back in it, and links his fingers together across his stomach. He stares at Rafe, unwaveringly. "Everyone on this island knows who you are—knows who we are. I started this business from the ground up, which gets people talking. It doesn't matter who informed me about you're partying on the Kelce family boat."

Rafe lowers his head. Someone at that party. Someone among that raucous crowd had told on Rafe. A sleeper-cell spy. When Rafe tries to go back to that night, he can't remember most of it.

It's surprising, though. Normally, Ward holds onto these bits of information to use them at a later time. Rafe is recovering from that boat party last night with the pulse of the music still throbbing in his temple. Why now?

He rubs the back of his neck. "It was Kelce's party, Dad–"

"It was a nice, small gathering that Kelce was thoughtful enough to invite you to. And you got so wasted, you passed out."

Rafe pulls his bottom lip in. His father's gaze is searing.

"I had a little too much to drink–"

"And the coke you bought? The fight you got into?"

"Dad, I'm sorry–"

Ward holds his hand up.

Rafe snaps his mouth shut.

"I hear about something like this again, it's gonna be a lot worse. It's only the beginning of Summer, Rafe. Let's try to be less selfish and think of your family when you leave this house. Think about how your actions make the rest of us look."

Rafe nods. "I'll do better, Dad. I swear–"

Ward's hand goes up again.

"Don't promise me. I know as soon as you promise me, you're going to break it."

The front door opens way down the hall, and Sarah announces that she's home. She's been gone through the night.

Rafe listens to her footsteps, each one coming down the hall, her flip-flops slapping against the wood floor, and then the office door swings open. Her face falls when she sees Rafe slumped in his usual chair.

"Hi, Dad," she says, with her girlish voice.

"Hi, Sweetheart." Ward sounds tired.

"Sorry I didn't call last night. The reception was really wonky."

Ward nods.

Rafe waits for his father to address him, almost wants him to. But he won't. And Sarah won't ask what's going on, she already knows—Rafe's in trouble again.

"I'm gonna go rest upstairs for a bit," she says.

"Alright, Sweetheart."

She shuts the door, and her flip-flops smack against the floor, quieter and quieter.

Rafe gets fidgety in the silence.

"Think, Rafe," Ward says. "For once, use your goddamn head. Now, get out of here."

He leaps to his feet, dizzy and unsteady. He's getting away scot-free this time—this never happens. So, Rafe hurries out of there, nearly knocking the chair over with his foot on the way.

He rubs his face. His head is still pounding. He can almost see the light at the end of the hall; his escape. Even if Ward hasn't finished his punishment, at least Rafe can get out of here for a little.

Maybe his father is still riding the high from slapping Rafe for leaving dinner too early the other night. And Rafe should have known it was coming, except he'd only been gone for three hours, and he'd only had a joint. He'd been sure his clothes didn't smell, but Ward still met him right at the door, long after Rose had gone upstairs to settle down for the night. Sarah had still been out with those Pogues. Surely, she was out with those Pogues last night, too.

Rafe had fun at the boat party. At least, from what he can remember, he seemed to have fun. He got there just as Topper was unloading his new stock of coke. Rafe got in on that before the majority did. Then he was laughing and telling jokes—he was feeling really good. He'd forgotten he invited Y/n until he found her within the crowd. She was watching him from the edge, and when he saw her, it was like another hit of that powder.

Looking back, Y/n was the best part of the whole night. It didn't surprise Rafe. He'd always had a thing for her. She was Sarah's hot friend, she was a Kook. Of course he likes her. She liked his new haircut, which he's still getting used to. She was fun, and she took Rafe's side when those Pogues showed up. That support was new to him. And she was sexy, the way she danced on that table. Rafe remembers laughing, watching her, feeling like he could really take her seriously.

And despite all the drugs and alcohol, he remembers kissing her. He'd known he'd wanted to kiss her. He'd wanted to kiss her in the foyer after dinner when he invited her to the party. He'd wanted to at dinner. Before dinner. He's wanted to kiss her for a long time.

And then she'd run off, said she had to go home. After that, the night went black. Rafe only remembers waking up before the sun in the cockpit of Kelce's boat. Everyone had left. Crushed-up cans of beers, cigarette butts, and the faint trace of her lingering perfume, were the only evidence that he hadn't made the whole thing up.