Chapter 14 The Problem
the problem [trope]
the unavoidable complication that stands between the protagonists and their happily ever after; often manifests as a sudden breakup, an ex showing up at the worst possible moment, or an unexpected plot twist
“Okay, Grandma. Sorry to wake you,” I say before she hangs up, as Rafael parks outside The Oak. We drove to Wethersfield and back, went around in circles for a while, but Ethan was nowhere to be found. He won’t answer his phone, so I had to call our grandparents.
They were not pleased.
I follow Rafael inside and ignore the worried look in his eyes. I need a drink. A strong one that’ll put the buzzing in my brain to rest.
“I’ll have a whiskey, please,” I say once we approach the counter, trying to sound sure of myself.
Sitting on the stool, I meet the bartender’s eyes and realize I’m talking to Quentin, because of course I am. Not that I shouldn’t have expected it. He started working at The Oak the moment he graduated from high school, and I strongly suspect he’s been here every day since.
“Neat? On the rocks?” he asks, his eyes darting to Rafael before they settle on me again.
My mind races, as though the choice actually matters. I read somewhere that whiskey neat is a “serious” choice, didn’t I? “Uh… neat.”
Quentin turns to his cousin again, who’s kept silent by my side, observing me. Rafael’s gaze lingers a beat too long before he finally turns to Quentin. “Hey. Have any coffee?”
Quentin looks back. “Yeah. Sugar? Milk?”
“Yes, please.”
I thought he took his coffee black, but I’m too rattled to inquire. I came here for a whiskey, to take the edge off after that encounter with my brother, and I ended up in the most awkward ex-slash-family gathering I can think of.
I need less tension, not more, because I’m this close to getting into my car, driving all the way to Wethersfield, and knocking on my grandparents’ door with a million questions I’m not sure I want answered tonight.
But they will be answered tomorrow.
Quentin turns away to prepare our drinks. The awkwardness lingers, and I think I can take a guess at why.
I glance sideways at Rafael, my mouth dry. “You’re sure Quentin doesn’t care about us hanging out?”
“Yeah, we talked about it.” He shrugs, looking unbothered. “He said he’s okay with it.”
They talked about it?
“How did that conversation go?”
“He came over to the house before the funeral. I asked him if he’d be okay with me asking you out. He said he didn’t care.” He drums his fingers against the table. “That he was seeing someone.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Who?”
He laughs, a soft, teasing sound. “Jealous?”
“Not really. Who is it?”
Rafael shrugs. “He wouldn’t say. I just hope she’s old enough to drink.”
We fall into silence as Quentin sets our drinks down on the counter, then walks away without a word.
My whiskey is a rich amber, deceptively smooth-looking, but even from here I can smell the sharp tang of alcohol cutting through the heavier notes of caramel and oak.
It stings my eyes, which I guess is promising.
“So, whiskey, huh?” Rafael breaks into my thoughts, looking at me with mild amusement.
“It’s the strongest drink I could think of.”
“Okay,” he says, his tone so casual it almost unnerves me. “Shall we grab a table?”
“Yep.” I need to sit down. I’ve never had whiskey, but I assume I’ll be knocked out pretty quickly.
We settle into the closest booth, the surface of my drink rippling faintly under the dim light. I didn’t know that neat meant undiluted. It’s just whiskey, I tell myself. People drink this all the time.
“Want to order something else?” Rafael’s knee presses against mine under the table.
I shake my head, mustering up a defiant look before I lift the glass to my lips.
The scent is intense, smoky, and bold, and the moment I take a sip, a burning heat rushes over my tongue, down my throat, and straight to my chest. For a second, I just sit there, feeling it spread through me like wildfire.
Then I shiver so hard my spine hurts. “Ugh. Oh my God. It’s… disgusting.”
One corner of his lips lifts as he stirs his coffee, the warm, comforting smell wafting around me. I should have gotten one, too. I love coffee. Why did I have to go with whiskey?
With one movement, he slides my glass toward himself and puts his cup in front of me.
Wait a second. Is this why he took his coffee with milk and sugar? Because he knew I’d hate whiskey?
“Did your dad tell you about the night I left?”
Any thought of beverages goes out the window as I meet his gaze. I know I have to play it cool, pretend that he hasn’t just suddenly acknowledged the elephant in the room that I had figured he’d want to ignore at all costs. “The, uh, the night you left?”
Well done, Scarlett.
“No, he… he never said much.”
He brings the glass to his lips and takes a small sip—not followed by shivers. “You know I did my share of dumb shit when I was younger.”
“Dumb shit like driving without a license?” I tease.
“Yeah, well.” He rubs his jaw. “My date really wanted to see some crappy indie band two towns away, and I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”
I glare. “Go on.”
“Right.” He traces the edge of his glass with one finger.
“I spent most of my life being pissed off because everyone thought my dad was such a good guy when he really wasn’t.
Angry at him for not being a better father, at everyone else for expecting the worst of me.
Furious with myself for delivering every single time. ”
What he said about wanting to be good comes back to me, and my heart squeezes. Is that what he meant? That he wants to go against everyone’s expectations of him being trouble?
“Rafael…”
“Let me finish.” He rubs his jaw for a long moment. “It always felt like an endless loop. My dad couldn’t be better, which meant that I didn’t know better, which made everyone think I was… bad.”
He holds my stare.
“Until I realized I found comfort in that. In knowing I could control the narrative, even though I was the villain in it. You know what was really hard? Not falling into the same pattern once I left Willowbrook.”
It sounds like he’s trying to make a point, but unsure of what it is, I ask, “Why are you telling me this, Gray?”
“Because maybe that’s the reason you won’t tell your brother why you didn’t move in with your grandparents. Because as long as he doesn’t know that, you’re the evil guy, and you get to keep a… barrier between the two of you?”
Of course not. I don’t want him to hate his grandparents. That’s it. “I text him all the time, Rafael. I call. I try. You saw me begging for him to stay tonight, didn’t you?”
He holds a hand on mine. “I did. But I also saw him reaching out to his sister and hitting a wall.” Smiling softly, he insists, “You’re terrified of losing him, so you keep him at a safe distance. Because as long as he blames you, he won’t want to be in your life.”
I slide my hand away from his, looking down at a spot on the table.
“Fear is irrational, Scarlett.”
It makes sense, of course. Everything he said. But it’s not what I’m doing. I love Ethan more than anyone else in the entire world—creating distance between us wouldn’t make losing him hurt any less.
“I’m not pushing him away.”
Rafael’s gaze lingers, his head tilting slightly, as though he’s weighing my words. “Okay, then. My bad.”
“I’m not,” I insist.
“I believe you.”
“I’m going to my grandparents’ tomorrow and demanding an explanation. I definitely won’t let them send him to Virginia, and I won’t stand by and watch them make him miserable.” I realize I’ve raised my voice, but I insist, “I love Ethan. I’d never do anything to hurt him.”
“Scarlett, hey.” He gently grips my forearm, leaning forward. “I’m sorry. I know you do, okay? Forget everything I said.”
I exhale, trying to get my heart to settle, but before I can, Rafael’s gaze moves beside me, and I look up to see Vanessa and Theo standing next to our table. They exchange glances, then turn their attention back to us with furrowed brows.
Shit. Did they hear me?
“H-hey, guys.”
“Is everything okay?” Theo asks, giving Rafael an icy glare.
“Yeah.” I tuck my hands into my lap. “What’s, um, what’s up?”
“We came to get a beer. Paige is in the restroom.”
“Oh.” The entire gang. I knew it was just a matter of time before they met up with Rafael, but I hoped it’d be at a better moment. “Well, this is Rafael,” I say, gesturing in his direction. “You’ve met Vanessa.”
“Gentle-touch Vanessa, sure.” Rafael grins. “Off duty tonight?”
Vanessa crosses her arms over her pale gold blouse, neatly tucked into high-waisted black trousers. “Don’t worry, I’ve got my handcuffs on me.”
“And this is Theo,” I rush out. “Sound technician at the podcast.”
“Yeah, we met back in the day,” Theo mumbles, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Sure, sure. You’re Will’s little brother.” Rafael scoots to the side. “Would you like to join us?”
Vanessa shrugs. “Yeah—”
“Actually…” Theo gestures with his beer toward the entrance door. “Can I talk to you, Scarlett? Outside?”
Stomach immediately knotting, I throw a glance at Rafael, who winks. I can almost see it in his eyes: He’s going to warn you about me. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
I stand and follow Theo out of the pub, the humid air turning my skin sticky. A streetlamp farther down the block illuminates the quiet street, and I glimpse a couple pressed close, the flicker of movement and the faint sound of muffled giggles giving away their very obvious make-out session.
Turning his back on me, Theo inhales but doesn’t say a word.
“Theo?”
“Yeah. Yes.” He faces me, hesitating for a long moment. “Look, I know this isn’t my place. And I know you didn’t ask, but Scarlett—”
This is about Rafael, isn’t it? Already on edge, I cross my arms. “Just tell me what you need to.”
“This guy… I don’t trust him.”
Goddamn it. I hate it when Rafael is right.
“When you came in, that was nothing, okay? We were talking about a bit of a sensitive subject.”