039. payments by the hour

( the thirty ninth chapter )

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The phone rang once, twice, before Olivine answered, her voice soft but tinged with distraction.

"Hey, Rafe."

"Where are you?" he asked, leaning against the kitchen counter at Tannyhill, his free hand tapping nervously against the edge.

"I'm at the studio. Getting ready for practice."

He exhaled slowly, relief washing over him even though he wasn't sure why he'd felt tense to begin with. "What time are you done?"

"Um, probably around six? Maybe a little later if Nicole drags it out." She laughed lightly, and the sound made the corners of his mouth twitch upward.

"Text me when you're done," he said, his voice softening.

"You don't have to pick me up, Rafe."

"Not arguing," he interrupted, smirking when he heard her small sigh of defeat on the other end.

"Fine, fine. But you know, I can drive myself."

"Yeah, I know," he said, his tone warm. "But I'm picking you up anyway."

"Okay, stubborn," she teased, a smile audible in her voice. "I'll text you. Now go do whatever you were doing."

"Just don't forget to eat something," he added, ignoring her playful jab.

"I won't, Dad."

"Funny," he muttered before hanging up, the smallest of smiles lingering on his face.

The scene shifted to Tannyhill, sunlight streaming in through the tall windows of Rafe's room. He stood by his open dresser, stuffing the last of his neatly folded shirts into a duffel bag that lay half-zipped on the bed. Wheezie perched on the edge of his mattress, legs crossed and a half-eaten apple in hand.

"Where are you even going?" she asked, watching as he moved back and forth, restless energy radiating off him.

"Out of here," Rafe muttered, slamming the drawer shut a little too hard. "You don't need the details."

Wheezie rolled her eyes. "Fine, whatever. But if you're leaving, you better say goodbye to Sarah."

Rafe let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "She's not exactly my biggest fan right now."

Wheezie didn't respond, her attention drifting to the clutter left on his desk. She reached over, picking up a random photograph of them as kids before putting it down without a word.

Rafe opened the last drawer of his dresser and froze. His eyes landed on the small bag of coke tucked in the corner, half-hidden beneath a stray sock.

For a moment, everything around him seemed to still. His hands twitched, an automatic response he hadn't even realized he had. He clenched them into fists, gripping the edge of the drawer tightly.

"Rafe?" Wheezie's voice broke through the silence, her tone hesitant.

He glanced over his shoulder, forcing a tight smile. "It's nothing. Just... old junk."

But his hand betrayed him, reaching out and grabbing the bag before he could stop himself. His mind was at war—part of him screaming to toss it, to get rid of it once and for all, while the other part, the darker part, urged him to keep it, just in case.

Shoving it into the pocket of his khaki shorts, he slammed the drawer shut and zipped his bag. "You done supervising, Wheeze?"

She narrowed her eyes at him but hopped off the bed, tossing the apple core into his trash bin. "You're the weirdest big brother ever, you know that?"

"Yeah, thanks," he said dryly, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

Outside, the engine of Rafe's motorbike roared to life, the familiar vibration under his palms grounding him momentarily. He ran a hand over the seat, staring out at the sprawling lawns of Tannyhill.

Pulling the bag from his pocket, he emptied a small amount onto the seat, quickly making a line. His heart pounded as he bent over and snorted it in one fluid motion, the familiar burn hitting him hard.

As he straightened, a slow clap broke through the quiet, sending a jolt of alarm through him.

"Well, well, look who's still at it," Barry's voice drawled, full of mockery and anger.

Rafe turned, his body tensing as Barry strode toward him, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets.

"What the hell do you want, Barry?" Rafe asked, his voice tight.

Barry stopped a few feet away, his expression hardening. "What I want, Cameron, is my money. You think you can avoid me forever?"

"I told you I'll get it to you," Rafe said, his voice defensive. "Just give me a little more time."

Barry sneered. "Oh, you've had time. Plenty of it. But instead, you're out here playing house with your ballerina princess."

Rafe's jaw clenched. "Don't bring her into this."

Barry stepped closer, his face inches from Rafe's. "You're out here wining and dining, and you think you can skip out on what you owe me?"

"I'll get your money," Rafe snapped. "Just—"

Before he could finish, Barry grabbed his arm and twisted it toward the motorbike's exhaust pipe. The metal burned into Rafe's forearm, the heat searing his skin as he let out a guttural scream.

Barry held him there, ignoring Rafe's thrashing until he finally let go, watching as Rafe crumpled to the ground, clutching his arm.

The smell of burnt skin lingered as Barry smirked, stepping back. "End of the week, Cameron. Or I'll come for your girl."

Without another word, Barry climbed onto Rafe's motorbike, revving the engine before speeding off, leaving Rafe lying in the dirt.

Wheezie burst out of the house just as Barry disappeared down the driveway. Her eyes widened when she saw Rafe on the ground, his arm cradled against his chest.

"Rafe! Oh my God, what happened?" She dropped to her knees beside him, fumbling for her phone. "I'm calling an ambulance—"

"No!" Rafe barked, his voice trembling. "No hospitals, Wheeze."

"But your arm—"

"I'm fine," he ground out, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

She stared at him, disbelief and concern etched across her face. "You're not fine. Your arm is literally burnt—"

"I said I'm fine!" he snapped, but his voice cracked, betraying his pain.

Wheezie bit her lip, her hands hovering uselessly as Rafe tried to stand. He wobbled, and she quickly moved to steady him.

"Where are you even going?" she demanded.

"To pick up Olivine," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You're not driving like this."

"I have to," Rafe said, shaking his head. "She's waiting."

Wheezie sighed heavily, slipping under his arm to help him to his car. "Fine. But I'm coming with you."

He didn't argue, collapsing into the driver's seat while she climbed in beside him. Resting his head against the headrest, Rafe let out a shaky sigh, his good hand gripping the steering wheel as he tried to collect himself.

"Rafe..." Wheezie began softly.

"Don't," he cut her off, starting the car.

She didn't say another word, her worried gaze flickering to his pale face as he pulled out of the driveway, heading for Olivine.

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The silence in the car was heavy as Rafe drove, his injured arm resting carefully on his lap while his other hand gripped the wheel. Wheezie sat stiffly in the passenger seat, stealing glances at him every so often, her worry etched into her features.

As they neared the studio, Rafe suddenly pulled into the parking lot of a small café, the kind with colorful umbrellas outside and a chalkboard menu propped by the entrance.

"What are you doing?" Wheezie asked, her voice low.

He kept his eyes on the dashboard for a moment before turning to her. "Can you get her drink? That green thing with the pink foam... whatever it's called."

Wheezie blinked. "Her matcha fizz?"

"Yeah, that. And get yourself something too," he said, pulling out a fifty-dollar bill and handing it to her. His fingers trembled slightly, and Wheezie hesitated before taking it.

"You sure you're good?" she asked softly.

"I'm fine, Wheeze. Just... please."

She nodded reluctantly, opening the door and stepping out. Before heading into the café, she looked back to see Rafe leaning forward, panting, his uninjured hand slamming against the wheel as though trying to release some pent-up frustration.

Twenty minutes later, Wheezie returned with a small tray. She slipped into the back seat, leaving the front for Olivine, and handed Rafe his change and a blue Powerade.

"Here," she said, her voice tentative.

Rafe took the bottle, his grip weak, and gave her a fleeting, tight-lipped smile before turning the car back onto the road.

The studio came into view, its large glass windows reflecting the soft orange hues of the setting sun. Rafe parked near the entrance, his engine rumbling softly as they waited. A stream of ballerinas fluttered out of the building, their pink, black, and brown outfits giving them the appearance of a pastel flock.

Rafe rolled his window down, ignoring the curious glances and lingering stares from some of the girls. His sharp gaze scanned the crowd until it landed on Olivine.

There she was, moving through the crowd with an airy confidence that made his chest tighten. Her face lit up when she spotted him, and she waved, her steps quickening as she skipped toward the car.

Rafe smiled despite himself, his heart beating a little steadier. She leaned in through the open window, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"Hey, you," she greeted warmly, her voice soft and sweet. But as she pulled back, her eyes lingered on his face, catching the glassiness of his pupils and the red rim around them. "Rafe..." Her smile faltered. "Are you okay?"

He straightened, his walls snapping back into place. "I'm fine. Just get in the car. Wheezie's with me—she's hanging out with us at my place tonight."

Olivine frowned slightly, sensing his deflection, but didn't press. She opened the passenger door, slipping into her seat and tucking her bag between her legs. She turned to greet Wheezie, who handed her the matcha fizz with a smile.

"Thanks, Wheezie," Olivine said, chuckling softly as she took a sip. The sweet and earthy flavor made her smile as she turned to Rafe. "Thanks for—"

Her voice trailed off as her eyes locked onto his arm. The angry, raw burn mark glared back at her, stark against his skin.

"Rafe." Her voice was sharp, alarmed. "What the heck happened to you?"

Rafe glanced down at his arm briefly, his jaw clenching. "It's nothing. I'll tell you later."

"Later?" she echoed, her voice rising slightly. "Rafe, your arm—"

"It's not important, Olive," he said, his tone firmer now. "Let's just get home, okay? You need to change into something more comfortable."

Olivine stared at him, her concern evident. But she bit her tongue, nodding reluctantly.

Wheezie reached forward, placing a hand gently on Olivine's shoulder. "I tried to get him to go to the hospital," she said quietly.

Olivine's lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze flicking between Rafe and his injured arm. "We'll talk when we get home," she said softly, a thread of determination lacing her tone.

Rafe didn't respond, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot. His hand tightened on the wheel, but he said nothing, his mind a mess of exhaustion, shame, and pain as they drove toward the sanctuary of his loft.

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The drive back to the loft was tense. The hum of the engine and the faint sound of the radio filled the silence, but neither Wheezie nor Olivine spoke. Olivine kept stealing glances at Rafe, her concern growing with every passing second. His grip on the wheel was tight, his knuckles pale against the leather, and his usual sharpness seemed dulled—his energy worn thin.

When they finally pulled into the driveway, the grand estate bathed in the fading light of the evening, Rafe let out a shaky breath, leaning his head back against the headrest for a moment before pulling the keys from the ignition.

"I'm fine," he muttered, as if anticipating Olivine's words before she could speak.

"No, you're not," she replied, her voice firm but gentle. She reached over, brushing her fingers over his uninjured hand. "Rafe, please, just talk to me."

He shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose. "Let's get inside."

Wheezie had already climbed out of the car, waiting by the front steps with a worried expression. Olivine hesitated for a moment before sighing and stepping out as well. She followed Rafe up the steps, his gait uneven, his shoulders tense.

Once inside, Wheezie hovered, clearly torn between wanting to help and knowing Rafe would shut her down. She finally broke the silence. "I'm getting the first aid kit," she announced, disappearing into the hallway.

Rafe slumped onto the couch, his head falling into his hands. Olivine stood in front of him, arms crossed, her gaze soft but unwavering. "Rafe, I'm not going to let this go."

He looked up at her, his eyes glassy and tired. "It's nothing, Olive."

She crouched down in front of him, her fingers lightly grazing his knee. "Burns don't just appear out of nowhere, Rafe. What happened?"

He swallowed hard, his jaw working as if he was fighting an internal battle. "Barry," he said finally, his voice low and rough.

"Barry?" she repeated, her brows furrowing. "What does he have to do with this?"

Rafe leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "He... he came by when I was outside. Things got heated. I owe him money, and he's—he's pissed. He burned me."

Olivine's stomach twisted at his words, anger and worry bubbling up simultaneously. "You owe him money?"

"I'm handling it," Rafe said quickly, his tone defensive.

"By getting hurt like this?" she shot back, her voice rising slightly. "Rafe, this isn't handling it. This is—this is insane."

"I didn't ask for this, okay?" he snapped, his frustration spilling over. "I'm doing the best I can, Olive. I'll fix it."

Her expression softened at his outburst, but she didn't back down. "You don't have to do this alone, Rafe. Let me help you."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Help me how? This isn't something you can fix, Olivine. It's not your problem."

"It's our problem," she said firmly, her eyes locking onto his. "You're not alone in this, Rafe. You have me. You have Wheezie. Let us help you."

As if on cue, Wheezie returned with the first aid kit, setting it down on the coffee table. "At least let me clean it up," she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly.

Rafe sighed heavily but nodded, pulling off his shirt to expose the angry, blistered burn on his arm. Wheezie flinched at the sight, but she quickly steeled herself, opening the kit and pulling out antiseptic wipes and bandages.

Olivine perched on the edge of the couch, her hand resting on Rafe's uninjured arm as Wheezie worked. Rafe winced as the antiseptic stung, his jaw clenched tight, but he didn't complain.

"You're going to the doctor tomorrow," Olivine said softly but firmly.

"No," Rafe muttered, shaking his head.

"Yes," she insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument. "And if you don't go, I'll drag you there myself."

Despite everything, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You're bossy, you know that?"

She smiled back, though her eyes were still filled with worry. "And you're stubborn. Looks like we're stuck with each other."

Wheezie finished wrapping the bandage around his arm and sat back with a satisfied nod. "There. It's not perfect, but it'll hold until tomorrow."

Rafe gave her a small smile. "Thanks, Wheeze."

She shrugged, her concern still evident. "Just... don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"Too late," Olivine muttered under her breath, earning a soft laugh from Wheezie.

Rafe rolled his eyes but didn't argue, his gaze drifting to Olivine. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"For what

"For all of it," Rafe murmured, his voice heavy with guilt. "For dragging you into this mess. For making you worry. For... just everything."

Olivine softened at his words, leaning closer and resting her hand on his knee again. "You don't have to apologize for struggling, Rafe. I just want you to trust me. To let me help you."

He looked at her, his blue eyes filled with so much vulnerability that it made her chest tighten. "You shouldn't have to deal with this," he said. "With me."

Olivine straightened, her expression firm. "Don't do that. Don't push me away. I'm here because I want to be, Rafe. Stop thinking you have to carry everything alone."

Wheezie, still sitting nearby, cleared her throat awkwardly. "She's right, you know. You're not exactly subtle when you're spiraling."

Rafe shot her a half-hearted glare but didn't respond, his attention drawn back to Olivine. She reached up to gently touch his cheek, her fingers soft against his skin.

"Promise me something," she said quietly.

His brow furrowed slightly. "What?"

"That you'll tell me next time you're in trouble," she said. "No more hiding. No more trying to handle everything yourself."

Rafe hesitated, his gaze flicking between her eyes, as if weighing her words. Finally, he nodded. "I promise."

Satisfied, Olivine leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Wheezie groaned dramatically from the side.

"Okay, this is getting too mushy for me," she teased, standing up and stretching. "I'm going to grab a drink. You two... do whatever this is."

Rafe smirked faintly, watching as Wheezie disappeared into the kitchen. He turned back to Olivine, his expression softening.

"Thanks," he said.

"For what?"

"For sticking around," he replied. "Even when I'm a mess."

She smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair behind his ear. "That's what you do for the people you care about, Rafe."

For a moment, the weight in his chest lifted, replaced by something lighter, warmer. He reached up with his uninjured hand and intertwined his fingers with hers.

"Let's just get through tonight," he said, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

Olivine nodded, squeezing his hand gently. "We will."

The sound of Wheezie rummaging through the fridge echoed from the kitchen, breaking the moment. Rafe let out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

"You know she's not going to leave us alone now, right?"

Olivine chuckled, her smile widening. "Good. Maybe she'll keep you out of trouble for a while."

Rafe rolled his eyes but didn't argue, leaning back into the couch and letting himself relax for the first time in what felt like days. Olivine stayed by his side, her presence steady and comforting.

No matter how chaotic things got, at least he had this—he had her. And in a world where everything felt like it was slipping through his fingers, that meant everything.

Olivine stood, stretching with a slight yawn, and smiled down at Rafe. "I'm going to take a quick shower," she said softly, leaning in to press a warm kiss to his lips. "Be good, okay?"

Rafe hummed, his hand brushing lightly against her waist. "I'd be even better if I joined you."

Olivine froze mid-step, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. Before she could respond, Wheezie's groan cut through the room like a knife.

"Ew, gross!" Wheezie exclaimed, dramatically covering her ears. "Rafe, calm down before I actually smack you."

Olivine turned back, giggling, while Rafe smirked, unbothered by his sister's disgust. "What? I'm just being honest," he defended, throwing his hands up innocently.

"Honest?" Wheezie scoffed, narrowing her eyes. "If you've got the energy to flirt, you've got the energy to help me make dinner."

Rafe groaned, letting his head fall back against the couch dramatically. "I don't even like cooking."

"Too bad," Wheezie quipped. "Unless you want to starve, you're helping."

Olivine laughed softly as she walked toward the bathroom, the sound of their playful bickering following her. She glanced over her shoulder and caught Rafe's mock-pained expression, his lips quirking up into a sheepish grin when he noticed her watching.

"You're on your own with that one," she teased, giving him a little wave before disappearing down the hallway.

The bathroom door clicked shut, and Rafe sighed, glancing at Wheezie, who was already standing in the kitchen doorway with her hands on her hips.

"Fine," he muttered, hauling himself off the couch. "But if I burn something, that's on you."

"Yeah, yeah," Wheezie said with a smirk, tossing him an apron. "Let's see if the big, bad Rafe Cameron can survive the kitchen."

"Don't push it, Wheeze," Rafe grumbled, but his lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smile as he followed her.

Rafe leaned against the counter, staring blankly at the assortment of ingredients Wheezie had laid out. Tomatoes, garlic, pasta, and some kind of fancy cheese he didn't recognize. His nose wrinkled. "We're not doing one of those complicated recipes, are we?"

"Relax, chef," Wheezie teased, tying an apron around her waist. "It's just spaghetti. Even you can't mess this up."

Rafe huffed, crossing his arms. "That's debatable."

Wheezie grabbed a pot and slammed it onto the stove with an exaggerated flourish. "Alright, big brother, boil water. Think you can handle that without burning the house down?"

"Boil water?" Rafe repeated mockingly, rolling his eyes. "Don't patronize me, Wheeze. I can boil water." He grabbed the pot and filled it from the tap, turning the stove on with a flourish of his own.

"Congratulations," Wheezie deadpanned, handing him a wooden spoon. "Now stir the sauce. Don't let it stick to the pan."

Rafe muttered something under his breath but did as he was told, lazily stirring the bubbling red sauce while Wheezie chopped garlic with precision. For a moment, the kitchen filled with comfortable silence, the faint sound of Olivine's shower running in the background.

After a few minutes, Wheezie glanced at Rafe, her brow furrowing. "So, are you going to tell me what really happened with your arm?"

Rafe stiffened, his grip on the spoon tightening slightly. "Nothing to tell. I told you, I'm fine."

"Rafe." Wheezie set the knife down, her voice soft but firm. "That burn didn't come out of nowhere. And I'm not stupid. I know something's going on."

He avoided her gaze, focusing on the sauce. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

Wheezie sighed, frustration flickering in her eyes. "You know, for someone who's always saying he'll protect me, you're really bad at letting me protect you."

Rafe stopped stirring, her words hitting a little too close to home. He opened his mouth to respond but was saved by the sound of Olivine's footsteps padding back into the living room.

"I hope you two aren't burning the house down," she called, her voice light and teasing.

Both siblings turned to see her standing in the doorway, fresh-faced and covered in his old basketball shirt that was too big for her, blue yoga shorts-peaking from underneath her-his shirt, her hair falling over her shoulders. Rafe couldn't help but smile at her, his earlier tension melting away slightly.

"Rafe's surprisingly not useless," Wheezie quipped, nudging him with her elbow.

"Shut up," he shot back, though his tone lacked any real bite.

Olivine laughed softly, crossing the room to stand beside him. She peeked into the pot he was stirring, her lips curling into a smile. "Look at you, Chef Cameron," Olivine teased, reaching up to attempt to squeeze his cheek.

Rafe gave her an exaggerated glare, though his lips twitched upward. "Keep it up, and I'll serve your spaghetti cold."

"You wouldn't dare," she shot back, leaning her hip against the counter as she looked at Wheezie. "Thanks for keeping him in line. You're doing heaven'swork."

"Someone has to," Wheezie replied with a mock-suffering sigh, tossing the chopped garlic into a pan.

Olivine chuckled, folding her arms as she turned her attention back to Rafe. Her gaze flickered briefly to his arm, and her smile faltered just a touch. "Seriously, though... how are you feeling?"

Rafe's jaw tightened for a moment, but he softened when he saw the genuine concern in her eyes. "I'm fine, baby," he said quietly, reaching out to brush a strand of damp hair from her face. "Don't stress about me."

She studied him for a beat longer before nodding. "Alright. But if it starts hurting more, I'm forcing you to let me take care of it. Deal?"

"Deal," he murmured, his lips quirking up in a small smile.

Wheezie cleared her throat dramatically. "Can you two stop being gross for like, five minutes? I'm trying to cook here."

Olivine laughed, her cheeks warming slightly as she stepped back. "Fine, fine. What can I do to help?"

"Nothing," Rafe said immediately, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward the living room. "You just showered. No way am I letting you get sauce on yourself,"

"Excuse me," Wheezie cut in, pointing the wooden spoon at him. "If you're not flirting, you're supposed to be helping me."

Rafe groaned, reluctantly letting go of Olivine's hand. "You're really killing my vibe tonight, Louisa."

"That's my job," she said with a smirk. "Now chop those tomatoes."

As Rafe returned to his reluctant kitchen duties, Olivine perched on the edge of the counter, watching the siblings bicker with an amused smile. It was moments like these—mundane, imperfect, and warm—that reminded her why she'd fallen for Rafe in the first place. Beneath the bravado and chaos, there was a softness to him, one that made her feel safe even when the world around them felt anything but.

"Rafe," she called softly, drawing his attention.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for coming to pick me up today," she said, her tone light but sincere.

He smiled at her, his blue eyes softening. "Always."

Wheezie gagged dramatically. "I'm seriously going to lose my appetite."

Olivine threw her head back in laughter, and even Rafe chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little as they fell back into their rhythm.

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KIKI SPEAKS ;
not edited !!

here's rolivine with their child louisa cameron

word count : 4.3k

ENJOY !!
xoxo kiki 💋💋