had always cared still did. It wasn’t much, but it was something. He didn’t mind not having his tree up, and he didn’t mind that it didn’t feel like the holiday. In spite of the ache in his chest in the empty spot his heart should have been, he still felt intense relief that Bryce had moved on—that it was officially and completely over. And he slept better at night knowing his father and mother were no longer together and she had no more hold over Fredric.
He spent most of his time home lying in bed or on the sofa, reading CS Grace until his eyes refused to stay open. He cooked himself soup, burned a lot of toast, and tipped well on his delivery orders. And in those quiet moments he closed his eyes and saw Archer’s sunny, bright smile behind his eyelids.
There was no erasing him, and although Julian told himself he should try harder, he didn’t want to. He was sore over the lies, but his pain settled and behind it remained something so excruciatingly simple, he wasn’t sure he was ready to accept it.
He missed him. He missed Archer. Their time together had been exactly enough to anchor himself inside Julian, strong enough that even after ten days, it was still fresh. He found himself browsing science articles, his breath catching every time he saw updates on new stars or new planets or new comets. He could close his eyes and hear the excited and passionate rise and fall of Archer’s words as he brought to life and shape and form, galaxies for Julian’s blind father.
And those same passionate lips had pressed against his own, breathing groans and sighs into Julian and filling him up with promises Julian had forced him to break. His pain had been real, the betrayal too big to ignore, and yet…
He could have done better.
His pride stung, and Archer’s silence rang fierce in the emptiness of his home, and he knew there was nothing he could do about it.
Christmas Eve came in like a ghost—a gentle, rare cold front that brought icicles hanging from his porch, and his breath visible in the air. He went out to check that his pipes hadn’t frozen, and to unblanket his plants in the front yard, then he wrapped up in fleece pajamas and tried to lose himself in books.
He pretended like his solitude didn’t leave him aching, but when his doorbell rang just after noon, the rush of relief was too strong to be ignored. His socked feet skid on his floors as he made his way over, and he let out a small, disbelieving laugh when he set eyes on his sister, his dad, and Ilan.
Bastian nosed him against his palm, then Julian’s arms were open and his father’s bulky frame fit careful along his front, the low chuckle bringing a sort of visceral comfort and making him feel years and years younger than he was. “Surprise,” the man murmured against the side of his face.
Julian sniffed a little, stepping back so his sister and Ilan could come in from the cold. “What are you doing here?”
“Saving you from yourself,” Corinne said, shoving several tote bags into his arms.
Julian fumbled with them, but he led the way to the kitchen with his sister at his heels as Ilan and his dad got comfortable in the living room. “Make yourselves at home,” he called, and Ilan laughed.
“I’m starting a fire. It’s Christmas. And where the hell is your tree?”
“Why do you care? You’re Jewish,” he called back, and he heard Ilan swear quietly and then his father laughed. Turning back to his sister, he saw the look of pity in her eyes, and he knew he deserved it. At most he’d showered, but he hadn’t combed his hair in days, and hadn’t bothered to shave. He was a broken-hearted mess, and so much of it was his own fault for letting the pain of his past control his future. “Just say it.”
Instead of speaking, she dug into the bag and pulled out a bottle of Bailey’s. He offered a weak gesture at his cupboard, and it only took her a moment to get a pot going for cocoa. “Ilan won’t tell us what happened,” she said softly, stirring in lumps of hard chocolate. She waited for Julian to slide in closer before she spoke again. “I know that you left him.”
Biting his lip, his gaze fixed on the mesmerizing sight of the chocolate melting