This was a good talk.
A really good talk.
Goodnight, Sloan.
Putting his phone back on the bedside table, Rafe let out a deep breath. Clearly, the next time he saw her he had to give Sloan the best dick of her life and then somehow explain why they made sense together. If he could make sense of it himself.
Sleep coughed up no answers. He still had feelings for Sloan and he still had no idea how to approach the situation. He wanted more than a roommates-with-benefits situation, but also didn’t want to rush something that might not be there. All he could do was talk to Sloan and hope like hell they were on the same page. When he went downstairs to fix himself some food, he found Hope in the middle of the living room floor surrounded by a million LEGO pieces.
“Whatcha got going on here?” he asked.
“It’s new. Dad found it for me. It’s the Millennium Falcon with Rey and Chewie figurines.”
“Oh, that’s cool.”
“We got the royal ship too, from Black Panther. But that one has less pieces so I’ll do it as a cool down.”
Rafe picked up both boxes and looked at the completed designs, and instantly thought about Addison and her puzzles. His mind flashed back to Hope and her first day of kindergarten. She’d been an oddly serious toddler, with an intense imagination. He’d been worried the other kids would think she was strange, but Monica knew she was tough and that she’d find her way. Sure enough, her love of fantasy became legend on the playgrounds and she became popular with the parents who wanted their daughters around kids with such focus.
“I thought you were sleeping over at Brittany’s.” Her fanfic buddy from math class was usually attached to Hope’s hip.
“I did. They dropped me off an hour ago. Church.”
“Oh yeah. That.” Weddings and funerals were only times the Whitcomb crew attended.
“It’s fine. I’m almost certain that in the cross-section of where science and religion meet, the essence that makes up our souls is safe.”
“I like that outlook. I’m gonna grab some food. You eat?”
“Yup.” She was already focused back on the pieces in her lap. That was his cue to leave her to her own devices. In the kitchen, his parents were still at the table, enjoying their coffee.
“I made a bacon quiche. It’s warming in the oven.”
“Oh, I gotta make a quiche this week,” he said to himself as he grabbed a mitt and pulled out the half full pie pan. He needed to pick Monica’s brain for new recipes before he left for the week.
“I saw Donna Demont last night at bingo. She said Kelly got her discharge.” A sharp pain shot through Rafe’s neck at the mention of her name. Kelly Demont has been his girlfriend on and off for a few years when he was a walking ball of pissed off testosterone, ages seventeen to twenty. She reminded him of girls from home. Tough, too mouthy for their own good, perfect for the Army. But their last run-in had been fucked up, for a lack of a better word.
All five and a half feet of her had challenged him to a fight and when he refused to punch her in the face, she offered to fuck the man back into him. He’d tried to talk to her about what the hell was going on, but she wasn’t hearing it. She wrote him later, during her next deployment, and apologized, but they both knew that relationship would never be the same. Kelly was a good girl deep down, but he wasn’t going there. Rafe sat with his food and tried to play it cool.
“Oh yeah? How is she doing?”
“Donna said she’s good. She asked about you.” Monica liked Kelly. A lot. She liked her for Rafe. “She’s thinking about flying helicopters privately. Donna said she’s in therapy too.” That actually made Rafe relax a little.
“That’s a good move for her. She did love being in the air. And the therapy.”
“You should call her. Or text her. Send her a tweet or a snap.”
Rafe snorted and almost choked. “I don’t know.”
“Well, if you’re not interested in starting things up with Kelly again, I saw Donna Smith last night too. She said Jennifer just broke up with that electrician she was seeing.”
“Baby, he can find his own dates,” his dad chimed in.
“I know. I just like to hand pick his dates for him. It’s my right as a mother. They move out, but I reserve the right to meddle in their love lives forever—until I get the right amount of grandchildren. And then I meddle intheirlives.”
“I—” He didn’t need to lie to his parents, but he didn’t need to tell them the whole truth either.
“At the moment, my interest lie elsewhere, but my best to Kelly and Jennifer, and their moms.”
