CHAPTER FORTY FOUR
[44]
song: a forest by the cure

Rafe Cameron didn't have much consistency in his life.

As a kid, he realized from a young age that he wanted to be just like his father. His father, who started from nothing and grew an empire. Had a great family. A great business.

Rafe watched his every move, and tried to show his father that one day he'd be capable of doing the same great things.

There was a short period where it was just Rafe, Ward, and his mother. It was perfect. And then Sarah was born, and everything shifted.

In the moments where Ward did pay any attention to Rafe, where he could truly feel his father's love, he knew his love was greater for Sarah. And Rafe, no matter what he did, no matter who he killed, he would never be the first choice.

And there came a time in Rafe's life where he decided it was time for change. That he started living for himself instead of Ward, doing the things that made him happy. Being with the girl who made him happy.

And in those moments, he was. He'd found someone that chose him.

Until she didn't.

No, she chose the people that killed his father.

And the most painful part was, she would never understand how hard it was to see her with them. To hear her pleads on the other side of the door, to listen to the cracks in her voice and the trembling of her breath.

To hear all of it, and know it meant nothing, as she'll return home to them.

He took to drinking, and drugs, and sleeping around. Anything to keep his mind off of her. Anything to get the sounds of her cries out of his head.

He couldn't do it anymore. He was choosing himself. He had to, or else he thought he might die.

The back and forth, the do they love each other, or do they not? It was eating him up. It was picking away at his flesh and taunting him with all these questions.

How could she do this to me?
How could she do this to me?
How could she do this to me?

Rafe knew she had loyalties to them. She knew she loved her brother, her friends. But he figured there was a line she wouldn't cross.

But maybe murder came easy to them.

He saw it first-hand how easy it was for her.

And then he drank. He drank and drank until all of his thoughts were gone. He didn't want to think of her like that, she saved his life.

Why would he think of her like that?

What was he doing?

Why can't his mind make a decision?

He had to see her. He had to remind himself of what she was doing to him.

A month after his father's death, he drove his way to The Cut. He'd heard rumors they were all living in Luke Maybank's old shit-hole, so that's where he went.

The gun in his back-pocket.

He'd kicked up the dirt on his motorbike, through the trees and onto the property, where he saw a singular window lit up by a lamp that sat in front of it.

He knew it was her. He knew how she worked, how she so easily let her thoughts consume her just as much as his own. That's why he was here in the first place, wasn't it?

Maybe she was alone. Maybe it was only herself living there.

And he saw Cassie swing the screen door open.

For a moment, everything felt so normal. It hadn't been that long now since Venezuela, he told her he needed some space and he did just that. And now it was over, now it could go back to normal.

He could get off his bike and walk up to the porch. She'd take him upstairs to her room and he'd explain everything. He'd apologize for disappearing. He'd apologize for everything.

But he saw them, JJ and Kiara, asleep in the hammock on the front porch. He saw John B's van parked out back. He saw a shitty half-painted flag strung up on their front porch.

All these people, acting like they did nothing. Like Ward was nothing.

And he thought about how they just left his body there at the bottom of a cliff. His father. His father's body.

He could feel the weight of the gun in his back pocket. The gun Cassie used to save his life. There was a time that Rafe thought killing someone was the ultimate test of loyalty, a line many wouldn't cross to save someone they love.

But he was wrong. Cassie wasn't strong enough to give up her friends for him.

He was going to give her the gun. Let it be the last thing that connected them so they never had to speak again.

But he did nothing. He revved up his bike, and left without another word.

—

"Your little girlfriend's out front." Ruthie spoke deviously as she came back out onto the deck, and pulled Rafe's arm.

"What are you talking about?" Rafe responds annoyedly, setting his drink down before she spilt it everywhere.

She laughed. "Come on, I'm sure she wants to talk to you—"

Rafe was reluctantly pulled inside. His patience for Topper's new girlfriend wearing very thin. He was too drunk to realize what she was doing, not until he realized it was Cassie Maybank who shoved past them, her head down.

"Hey, come on!" Ruthie joked disappointedly, as Cassie shoved the door open and left.

She still wore the same perfume, after all this time. He'd seen it sitting on her desk in her room once; Daisy.

It was the smell that confirmed it was really her, since she was so quick to leave and couldn't even lift up her head to acknowledge him.

He couldn't help but let out a pleased 'hm', perplexed by her hasty exit.

"Do they just let anyone in this place now?" Ruthie scoffs. "Jesus."

"Do you ever stop talking?" Rafe asks, eyes squeezed-shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Ruthie scoffs, taken aback. Topper had found himself in the middle of an awkward confrontation. "All jokes, man— I mean, come on it's—"

Rafe was very much unamused, opening his eyes and shrugging, eager for Topper's next words. "It's what?"

"It's just Cassie." Topper takes a sip from his drink, giving Rafe eyes that read as 'geez, chill'. "I mean you said it yourself, you were just bored."

The image of Rafe handing off Cassie's half-lifeless, bleeding body off of the river boat to the medics flashed in his mind. Watching them strap an oxygen mask to her face, the way none of them could give him an answer as to whether or not she'd make it.

No one would ever understand what Cassie meant to him then. And he wouldn't try to make them, it didn't matter anymore. It was all for nothing.

"Relax, man." Topper said, as he pat Rafe's shoulder and led him back out to the deck.

—

There were two total bathrooms in the house. One that the girls shared upstairs, and one for the boys downstairs.

It was weird for Cassie to see her friends in and out of the bathroom she spent so many years knocking on the door of and asking, 'Dad, are you almost done in there?'

It was even weirder how tidy the girls kept it. Like, when they shaved in the shower, they washed everything down after themselves. Or if someone used the last of the toilet paper, they refilled it themselves.

Cassie had spent many mornings in the bathroom with the girls. Cleo and Kiara sat on the edge of the tub, Cassie up on the sink, and Sarah on the toilet seat all dishing out their latest boy problems.

It reminded her of late nights on the island. Where no one could sleep, and they just spent hours and hours talking.

But Cassie didn't particularly enjoy hearing details in Kiara's case. Most times, she was told to 'plug her ears for this one'. Admittedly, it was odd hearing of any of the boys doing anything romantic— they were all just as much her brothers as JJ.

And they all kept their pills on top shelves.

Anxiety meds. Sleeping pills. Even the pills for their acne.

Cassie could see them, lined up at the top of the open medicine cabinet as she sat and peed. Eyes slowly tracing each name and the dosage.

Sarah Cameron. Zoloft. 50mg.

She found it almost endearing that they went through the trouble of climbing the sink and placing them up high, as if Cassie wasn't able to do the same thing.

But she didn't want to. In fact, Cassie hadn't thought of drugs in months.

She'd found distraction in other things, now.

There were a few guys she'd found herself in bed with now and then. One of which she'd discovered Kiara had slept with too, long before JJ— that was put together in one of the 'girls only' bathroom talks.

It was alright. They were nice enough to her, but they were all there for the same reasons. Cassie didn't want anything serious.

And she wanted Rafe out of her head.

She'd spent too many nights putting her ear-plugs in, not wanting to listen to her friend's laugh and talk to their respective partners in bed even after they'd all called it a night.

She was lonely. And if for a few minutes she could feel wanted— even if it was only physically— she would take it.

But she wouldn't let herself slip back into old habits. She couldn't. It wasn't an option.

So anytime she started to feel like she was a burden— like she was preventing her friends from being affectionate with each other for the sake of her feelings— she spent the night somewhere else.

Anytime she felt too weak, like her body hadn't fully recovered from everything yet, she'd go on a run. For hours. Until she could taste blood in her mouth and had to throw up into the bushes.

Anytime she felt bored, she went surfing. Or cliff-jumping. Or to Bait, a dive bar deep out in The Cut where Barracuda Mike taught her how to play poker. Or more realistically, how to lose a lot of money playing poker. Or she'd steal JJ's bike and drive it around the yard— to his dismay, but to everyone else's entertainment.

She couldn't get bored, she couldn't let her walls down.

Because when she did, she got scared.

Terrified.

Terrified that Singh's men were still on the hunt for whoever killed one of their own. She still, even a year later, checked the crime map in Venezuela to see if a body had washed up on the river.

And there were lots of bodies washing up in Venezuela. There was a lot of crime. A lot of bad people getting into bad situations. It had to happen all the time there.

But Cassie still couldn't sleep. She still couldn't let herself close her eyes at night, not without reliving it. Over and over: her mind's favorite form of torture.

And the only person she could talk to about it, wanted nothing to do with her.

So when Cassie felt scared, she snuck into JJ's room and took his gun. She took it all the way out to The Cut, where the water was still and the trees were mossy. Where no one ever goes.

And she'd take The Twinkie out there, and she'd put her earplugs in and she'd practice shooting. Different trees acted as her target, her arms held straight out in front of her, her right eye squinted as she focused.

Because Cassie didn't want to feel scared anymore. If something were to happen again, where she was in danger. She wasn't going to rely on someone else to get her out of it.

She wasn't going to rely on him.

—

"What's the damage, Pope?" JJ asks, a disappointed look already on his face.

"Fuse box is busted." Pope sighs. "Without the live bait, the fisherman won't come and there goes half our business right there."

Cassie takes a bite out of the sandwich her and Sarah had been sharing. "Cleo and I can go out and catch some tonight? Or there's some crawfish down by the creek—"

"It's not just that." Pope says, frustrated that no one was understanding his point. "We've used all the gold money."

John B looked around, slightly panicked. "What about the money from Cassie's house?"

"We used half of that on a new boat. And gas. And seeds. And inventory. And ingre—"

"Okay, we got it." JJ puts his hand up.

"There's barely anything in that account right now. The rest of Cassie's house? That's all we got. It's enough for our property tax coming up— but when we run out—" Pope was clearly concerned. He was doing that thing where he talked very fast, and paved the room.

"We won't run out." JJ waves it off like it was no big deal.

"We're gonna have to tighten up." Pope says to John B and Jj. "Which means no more $600 in gas chasing tarpon up the Gulf."

"Pope that's my job?" JJ argues back quickly.

"No more $200 in heirloom tomato seeds." He turns to Kiara, then to Cassie, amidst the sudden chatter and arguments. "No more gambling with Barracuda Mike."

"What about my imported peppers?" Cleo raises her voice over the yelling.

"Peppers gotta go too baby." Pope says.

"I don't gamble with Barracuda Mike." Cassie speaks up.

Sarah gives her a knowing look.

"Okay, I gambled once with Barracuda Mike."

"I need to run the charters?"

"Would you rather us grow ingredients or buy them?"

"Hey!"

"It's not the tomatoes' fault!"

"We're putting that expensive-ass boat to good use—"

"Guys, if the business starts failing the sharks start circling— all right?!" Pope shouts. "We don't even know if yours guys' dad is coming back!"

"Yeah, well, it's not his anymore." JJ responds frustratedly.

"It doesn't matter, what's he gonna think when he sees all this?!" Pope says.

"Have you met the guy? He doesn't do much thinking period." Cassie takes another bite.

"Listen," Pope takes a breath to calm himself down. "If we wanna save this place, we skinny up until the business gets afloat again. Okay?"

—

Cassie could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand up as she coasted through the marsh, an old baseball cap she found in the garage on her head.

The music grew louder as she approached. The rainbow string lights reflecting into the dark water she found herself in.

She found herself unexpectedly comfortable at Bait, because she knew there was no chance any Kooks would come near it. Maybe it was the cigarette smoke wafting on for miles, or the sound of glass shattering every time someone got drunk enough to smash it on another's head. Maybe it was the bouncer with no teeth.

And Cassie didn't fit in there much either. Actually, she didn't fit in at all. But they liked her there. Said she was pretty enough to get in for free, and she didn't feel judged there.

Although no one there knew what she'd done, she found comfort in knowing they'd probably done much worse.

She waved to the bar-goers from the dock, as she hopped out of the small fishing boat and tied it off.

"Been a while, missy." Someone hollered at her as she came up the stairs, raising a beer bottle in greeting.

Cassie smiled, and shrugged. "I've been busy— you know that. Haven't seen you much around the shop either." She fakes a disappointed, parental tone to the white-bearded guy at the high-top table.

"Been busy." He shrugged, then let out a breathy, loud laugh.

"Is Mike here?" She asked, looking around the deck and to the large crowds of people.

"He's been around. Why?" A woman, someone with a gnarly cross tattoo under her left eye, but a kind smile, answered. "Is there a game tonight?"

Cassie shook her head, eyes still trailing around the crowd. "No game. Just need to talk." She hit the table as goodbye before she walked further in.

"Bud light?" The bartender pointed at her, speaking loudly over the country music.

Cassie shrugged innocently. "Diet Coke?"

He scoffed, before bending down beneath the bar and handing her a can from the fridge. "Can't even charge you for this shit."

"You weren't gonna charge me for the beer either." She says, accepting it from him.

Barracuda Mike sat at one of the poker tables, a cigarette in one hand, cracking walnuts with the other. She was slightly intimidated by all of the men who sat at the table with him.

"Ah shit," Mike exclaimed, hopefully sarcastically, "Did the sitter never show?"

Cassie smiled, turning her nose up at the cigarette smoke that blew towards her. "Can I talk to you?" She asked.

"Whatchu think you're doing right now?" He earned a few chuckles from everyone around him.

She frowns, annoyed. "I'm being serious."

Mike hesitates, then leans back in his seat. "Shit, you kids." He clicks his tongue as he puts out his cigarette in the ash tray, standing and nodding her over to the outer deck.

Cassie followed him outside, it was quieter, darker. She wished he would've just stayed at the table, because it made what she was gonna ask him feel a lot more casual.

"You Maybanks get this look on your face when you want something." Mike says, as he joins her by the railing of the deck. "So what is it?"

She looks around at the dark sea for a second, trying to find a good way to approach this. "I, um— you know we've been struggling with the shop and stuff—"

Mike snorts, which catches Cassie off guard for a second, before she continues.

"—I mean, we've never dealt with this kind of money before. You know? We haven't been very good with—"

"Get to the point."

She clenches her jaw. "I need some money."

Now Mike really laughed, a loud, smoker-laugh that made some people from inside turn and look at them. Cassie just stood there, embarrassed, annoyed.

"You must be out of your damn mind." Mike coughs out another laugh.

She takes a breath. "Not that much, just like— I don't know— ten, fifteen? Enough to get us back on our feet—"

"You think I'm just gonna hand out ten thousand dollars?" Now he was talking to her like she was truly out of her mind.

"Not hand out! I'll pay it all back. All of it. We're just kind of in the mud right now." Cassie spoke quickly.

He lets out a deep sigh, turning towards the sea and plopping a lazy arm around Cassie's shoulder. "When people borrow money from me, they pay it back double."

She thought quickly, the unstableness of the situation she'd just put herself in sinking in. "Double?"

"Double." He responds. "And you know what happens when I don't get my money back?"

Cassie went very still, once again wishing they were still inside at the table. He started to squeeze her shoulder, hard.

"Let's just say people don't like to borrow from me very often." He lets out a pleased sigh.

Cassie pushes his arm off her. "Alright." She spoke impatiently, feeling very uneasy.

"I've got some street credit to maintain out here." He spoke seriously now. "Don't think I'm not gonna treat you like everyone else's just 'cause you're one of Luke's."

All Cassie was hearing was that she had a deal. She held her hand out. "I'll pay you back. Promise."

Mike shook his head annoyedly, as he crossed his arms. "You better run home before I change my mind."

—

It was weeks later, and the day of the Enduro race. An early morning, colder than it was most years but that didn't stop anyone from showing up.

The beach was packed. Trucks and vans parked along the starting point, people had already been tailgating for hours. Cassie followed the sound of announcers on their mics, and the crowds cheers, as she carefully stepped downhill through the sand to join her friends.

She eyed the crowd, her hands in the pockets of the big brown suede jacket she wore, her bare legs traced with goosebumps under her denim shorts, and her ankles sore with blisters in her work boots.

The racers were already lining up, filling up with fresh tanks, making last-minute repairs. But the crowd was eager to get started, at least Cassie was.

While dodging a drunk person excitedly waving the North Carolina flag, Cassie found Sarah and Kiara in the crowd, anxiously waiting.

"What'd I miss?" Cassie spoke over the announcers loud speakers, and the crowd's even louder cheering.

"Nothing." Kiara's hands were clasped together in an anxious praying pose, tucked under her chin. "I feel like I'm gonna faint."

"Here." Sarah bends down and reaches behind her, opening up the cooler and grabbing another beer.

Kiara anxiously takes it from her, giving a nod in thanks.

"He's over there." Sarah points towards JJ, who was talking to Cleo as she tightened a few screws on his bike.

Cassie walks over to her brother, feeling everyone's anxious energy begin to rub off on her as she got a good look at the make-shift track on the beach.

"Cleo, how we doing girl?" JJ asks, almost out of breath with anticipation.

"Everything's all good man." She says, dusting off her hands.

"Great, great." He responds, doing a handshake with her before she returns into the crowd with everyone else.

Cassie waves as she approaches him. "Sorry I'm late, I overslept."

"Really?" JJ huffs, as he grabbed a towel and wiped off his seat. "'Cause Kie said you weren't in your room this morning when she went to wake you up."

She sighed loudly, looking around at the rest of the crowd. "You're helicopter-ing."

JJ gives her a look, one that read like he was saying 'yeah, with good reason'.

Cassie opted to change the subject. "Have you told John B the plan?" She asks, watching him and Sarah chat in the crowd.

"Uhh," JJ scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Not yet—"

"Not yet?!" Cassie quickly turns back to JJ. "The race starts in what— three minutes and he doesn't even know?!"

"Chill, hey, listen." JJ shrugs it off. "Don't even worry about it, once I win and we get all the free money, none of this is gonna matter."

"Not all of the free money—" Cassie started to lecture.

"Yeah yeah, gotta pay back Barracuda Mike. Whatever, I got this, dude." He gestures to himself proudly. "Don't you have some faith in me?"

"No." Cassie answers plainly. "You lose every year."

JJ didn't like hearing that out loud. "Well—"

"But it's our only option. So." She shrugs, frustrated. "So you have to win."

Just as JJ was about to respond, sand flew up and hit the legs of the two of them, and the turned to see Rafe pulling up his bike and parking right next to Topper, revving his engine unnecessarily loud.

She felt her stomach drop. Cassie didn't know much about bikes, but she knew what JJ's looked like, and she knew what Rafe's and Topper's looked like. And anyone with a functioning brain could guess whose was nicer.

Rafe turned his head, still revving his engine as he looked over to Cassie and JJ.

She couldn't help the scowl that formed on her lips. Everything he did was so infuriating she wondered how in the world she ever felt differently.

"Yeah." Cassie starts, eyes still on Rafe. "Yeah, you have to win."

a/n
usually i would wait longer in between updates but damn ✋ yall are greedy

hope u r enjoying and thank u for alllll the love :-)❤️