“Not like—ugh!You’re being purposely difficult.”Of course. Rafael is the reasonable one here. Sure. “I mean, I love Owain, but I don’t want to bewithhim.”
Owain isn’t Julien’s flesh and blood. Owain isn’t the one Julien has to spend his entire life in the shadow of. If Owain Beddoe was the man Rafael had confessed to, this would be a very different conversation.
But it’s not Owain, it’s Thomas.
Julien finally turns, finally looks up into those deep brown eyes. It’s heartbreaking, but he won't force something to work when it clearly doesn’t. “I can’t trust you.”
Rafael's shoulders droop when he finally says, “Yeah, I understand.”
They sit in silence, studying each other’s faces in the dim light. They weren’t anything real, but there were moments it felt real. Moments where it felt like tonight wouldn’t be the last night Rafael ate family dinner at the Dubois household.
When Julien looks back on today, it’ll be to mourn what could’ve been.
Then Thomas pointedly clears his throat, ruining the moment.
“What, Thomas?” Julien asks, whipping around to face the back seat. “What could youpossiblyadd to this conversation? How can we make our relationship even more aboutyou?!”
Thomas glares back before saying, “I have won at this circuit before.”
“What?!”
“I have won. Stood on the top step of the Circuit Paul Richard. Proudly represented France for both Formation 4 and Formation 2.” If this is his idea of changing the subject, Thomas really sucks at it.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that,” Rafael says with exhaustion. “Did you want me to call your parents? Tell them I was wrong? What do you want from me?”
Thomas shakes his head in defiance. “I know you do not know where I have won. You did not read my wiki. You think I eat croissants.”
“Oh, shit,” Sam says. His eyebrows shoot up as he studies Rafael. “Huh.”
Huh.
“What?” Rafael looks between Julien and Thomas. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Rafael doesn’t know Thomas’s racing stats. Out of everyone on the grid—everyone he’s up against—Rafael is most often directly compared to his own teammate.
It would make sense to do research, to see where his rival struggles. Track history. Weather history. Does his biggest rival drive better on straights in the rain or turns in the sun?
Why wouldn’t Rafael know Thomas has won his home race before?
A lover would know that.
Even if someone had loved him and the love faded. A competitor of Rafael’s caliber wouldn’t justforgetinformation that might give him an edge.
He doesn’t love Thomas. He never did.
Rafael is telling the truth.
“Merci, Thomas.”Julien slowly reaches across the center console and fiddles with Rafael’s hand. “I'm sorry. I believe you.”
He won’t forget the Thomas thing, but there’s something between them he can’t let die just yet.
Whatever it takes, Rafael is worth it. Julien is willing to put in the work.
The Brazilian man only hesitates for a moment before lacing their fingers together. “No, I'm sorry.”
His thumb rubs Julien’s where they connect, and it’s the same sensation as faceplanting into his bed after a long flight.
It feels like coming home.
