Julian’s hair. “You don’t need to be in love with me to have this. I will never, ever leave you.”
Julian felt the honesty in that promise, and he wished it was more comforting. He wished he was more content alone. He wished desperately that after Bryce left, his bed hadn’t felt empty, that he hadn’t lived out so many of his days after the divorce choking on frustration and regret. He wanted life with all the hollow spaces inside him full—and he envied the people who had enough strength and power to do it themselves.
He would survive without being in love. He’d been doing it for years, and his marriage had been nothing like he was promised in his vows. There was no honor, no loyalty, and it was far from death that parted them.
“Tell me this isn’t going to make everything worse,” Julian said, finally pulling away.
Ilan resettled on the sofa with their feet knocking together on the table, and he shrugged. “I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought it was going to make your life harder. Yes, he’s a professional—but it’ll work in your favor. Let someone dote on you for that week. I told him no sex, but Chuck said he’s amazing in bed, and if you really want to get off…”
His immediate rejection of that idea danced on the tip of his tongue. “I don’t think I want to fuck someone this week,” he admitted, because that was the truth, even though he couldn’t deny it was tempting. It had been a damn long while.
Ilan sighed, but the expression on his face said he agreed. “It’s probably for the best. Look, we have a few days, right? So, let’s shop tomorrow for a new wardrobe.”
“Don’t you have work?” he asked with a groan. Ilan’s solution to cheering him up was always shopping, and Julian only ever agreed because they could get mall pretzels and iced coffee.
“I have one BKA scheduled for seven am, and I’ll need to do rounds after that. But I can make time for you.” He winked at Julian, and Julian rolled his eyes.
“In between limb removals,” Julian said flatly. Of course, that was the price of his friendship with an orthopedic surgeon. He knew gory details that turned his stomach, and he knew that Ilan compromised a lot for him because he wanted Julian to feel like their friendship was important.
He thought for a while it was misplaced guilt—that Ilan blamed himself for not noticing that Julian was miserable with Bryce. But it felt disrespectful to how long they’d known and cared about each other.
Ilan’s distance had been nothing more than him letting Julian get on with his life.
And when that stuttered to a halt, he was there. Relentless, but in the best possible way.
“How about shopping and dinner,” Julian suggested. “It’ll give me enough time to finish up these essays and enter in all my grades, and you won’t have to rush over.”
Ilan nodded, then pushed himself up to stand and held a hand out for Julian to follow. He kept hold of his fingers as he made his way to the door, then tugged him into an easy embrace. “Do not ghost me.”
Julian rolled his eyes, but he knew the warning was real, and in response to his worst habit. “You’ll hunt me down if I try.”
Ilan gave his cheek a quick pat, then let himself out and Julian locked the door behind him. His work waited for him to finish, in small, neat piles on the coffee table. The house was clean and smelled fresh, and the remnants of their dinner was either packed in the fridge or stacked in recycling.
His house was very much his own—everything in its place, nothing disordered. Bryce had hated that about him, how particular he was. He didn’t understand why Julian needed it, why it calmed him, why it stopped the raging swells of anxiety when things felt like they were too much.
“You’re just a control freak,” Bryce would throw at him, and Julian had no defense, because he was.
It always landed sharp and sure against him, though, cutting him a little, bleeding him a lot. Control was the one thing that kept him spinning off the edge of his anxiety and into the madness of the unknown. But Bryce had never bothered to understand him. He was nothing more than a step to climb toward the lofty heights where his goals rested.
Julian would never be anyone’s summit—and he could live with that,