Page 39 of Forgetting Rafe Thomas
Silas waves him off. “I know, I’m just saying, good riddance. She’s not like our girls.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask, curious for clarification since Silas has his own way of looking at things.
“You know…our girls. They’re sweet and kind, they care about other people, they have solid faith. Our girls are dependable and kind of perfect, but she was…well…not.”
Mav chuckles. “Except I don’t have a girl.”
“Minor technicality.” Silas waves him off again. “All I’m saying is, we knew you and Luna would patch things up. There’s not a bone in my body that thought Griffin and Melody had a chance.” Silas raises his hand before Mav fusses at him again. “I’m not saying I don’t feel bad for him, but I’m positive he’ll find a better woman.”
Lev checks his watch. “Shoot, I’m supposed to pick Emma up in fifteen minutes. We’re meeting Beck and Vivien for dinner. Anyone else want to come?” Lev offers a pointed glare toward Silas, who rolls his eyes.
“No, I have to bathe a dog.” Silas pushes off the sofa and carries the smell of manure and dirt with him. He and Mav wander out the back door, leaving Lev and me alone. Lev groans when he stands and stretches.
“You sound like an old man,” I tease, though I’m not so sure I could get off the sofa if I wanted to. Several emotionally charged days and massive jet-lag are not helping me stay awake right now.
“Long hours studying for finals. You look like you need a nap.” Lev drops his arms at his sides and slides his ball cap on.
“With those two, there’s no chance I get a wink of sleep. I actually think I’m gonna call Griff and see how he’s holding up. It must have taken a lot for him to admit the reason they broke up, and let’s be honest, this family isn’t exactly subtle about anything.”
He chuckles and nods on his way to the door. “Right. Let me know if he needs anything.”
I wave him off and head upstairs to make the call. The second eldest Thomas brother hasn’t had a single good relationship in his life, and every single one ends in his heart shattered to pieces. Griffin is an all in, all the time kind of man, and he puts that same focus on everything in his life…even people who don’t deserve it.
The phone rings a few times, but eventually, Griffin answers.
“Back from Ireland already?” he asks. “Oh wait, or are you still there and Luna is trying to murder you?”
“Ha, ha,” I say and fall backward on my bed. “The guys told me why you and Melody broke up, and I was calling to see how you’re doing.”
Griffin sighs with a throaty grumble. “I keep thinking one day our personal lives won’t be front page news in the Thomas Family Gazette, but I guess today ain’t the day.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Nah, it’s…it’s all right. I know you mean well, Rafe. It’s just hard, you know?”
“I do in some ways, yeah. You know I’m here for you if you need to talk about it.”
“Yeah, I know, but I’d rather hear you tell me that you and Luna patched things up?” he asks with a tinge of hopefulness laced with worry.
“We did, yeah. We worked out a lot of things and came home early to try to do it in the real world. You know, back where we have all the same stresses and things. She’s got this gala thing and the opening at the museum, then she’s gonna come home for a weekend.”
“Oh, that’s right, the museum donor’s gala. I’ll be at that. Are you coming now that you’re working things out?”
I smack my forehead. I completely forgot that Griffin is one of the museum donors. “I forgot about that. Yeah, she asked me to go. Do I dare ask if you have a date?”
“Not a chance. I’m going single and happy. For now, at least. Listen, I’m glad you and Luna are working things out. I’ve missed her a lot. Seems like we’re all sort of spreading out.”
Ah yes, Griffin’s way of extracting information from us is a little more passive than most. He’s not going to outright ask me if I’m moving to Chatswain City, but his little hint that we’re all spreading out is a clear indicator he’s thinking about it.
“Yeah, I guess so. That’s one of the things Luna and I need to work out, but it’s looking like I’ll probably be moving there. Closer to Wilder, I guess.”
“Wish I could say the same.”
There’s a sadness in his tone that I can’t miss. “What does that mean?”
Griffin lets out a long, slow sigh and shocks me. “This is my last season. My contract wasn’t renewed, and I’m not interested in moving again. I guess this means I’ll have some things to figure out, too.”
I immediately know two things about my brother at this moment—he doesn’t want to give up soccer, not yet. And he’s about to enter into a downward spiral of anxiety and depression.
