The Edge Of Heaven - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,45

bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to feel the overwhelming fondness for this man. He was young, and he was sweet. He was nerdy and he was charming but with an underlying sort of confusion about how to act in social situations. And somehow, he was also a highly paid escort—though Julian was having less and less of a struggle imagining people throwing money at him, because he would have.

Ilan had talked him into this, Ilan was paying, but Julian would have felt like every penny he paid was worth spending on him.

It was a dangerous cliff’s edge to look over, but there was no stopping it now.

“I think four is good for today,” he said, then pushed off the rock. His feet sank into the soft, barely wet sand, and he offered a hand to Will who took it and slid down.

Before he could let go, Will’s fingers tightened on his, and he took a step closer, tugging him until they were nearly chest to chest. “When I first got to Paris, I didn’t know anyone, and my French was awful. I thought I was going to be amazing because I scored at the top of my class in school, and I tested through the first levels in college. Then I got there and I didn’t know anything because the slang was entirely new, and I was just some American upstart who thought he was special and refused to go into the English speaking classes.” He bit his lip and his cheeks were still faintly pink. Julian fought off the urge to reach up and touch them, to see if they were as warm as they looked. “One of the Ph.D. candidates was teaching one of my classes. He was American—from Iowa or something, I can’t remember. He invited me on a tour of the city to help me settle in.”

Julian’s gut twisted uncomfortably because he had a feeling he knew where this story was going, and it wasn’t anywhere sweet or romantic.

“He bought us tickets for the Bateaux Mouches. It’s this little boat ride—very few locals actually do it, but it’s a big tourist thing. There was dinner, and a lot of wine.” He glanced away for a second and took a breath which Julian felt in the way his chest expanded and brushed his for only a second. “He dragged me into an alley, pinned me to the wall, and kissed me, then gave my cheek a pat and told me that if I wanted to have a good time in Paris, I needed to learn how to keep my mouth shut and roll with the culture. So, I did. I dropped his class, and every time I saw him walking around the buildings, I avoided him. He eventually left, and I felt like I could breathe again.”

“Why did you stay?” Julian asked, which seemed like a safer question than why didn’t you report him, because he knew that wasn’t fair to ask. He understood exactly why Will hadn’t told anyone.

“I wasn’t going to let him win. I saw a therapist for six months, but I never told her who it was. It seemed small and petty. He barely used tongue.”

“That isn’t,” Julian started, and at the sight of Will’s smile, the rest of his words gently faded to nothing.

“I know that now. I was just…I was determined to win. He wanted me to feel small, and I did, but it didn’t last. The bits of power he stole from me that night came back—doubled in size.” Will stopped and let out a small laugh. “That one’s also free. I haven’t let myself think of that in years. No one knows, and god…I don’t know why I was thinking about it now.”

Julian heard that lie though, the way it tripped off his tongue, because it didn’t take a genius to understand the connection. It wasn’t the same, not exactly, but Will understood what it felt like to have pieces of his dignity and bravery stripped away, and his vulnerability on parade for the people who wanted to watch him fail.

It was why he never smiled, why he never trusted. It was why he doubted when people cared about him, even when they’d proven for years that he was worth it.

Will was a gift—a dangerous one. One that could burrow too deep, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to spend the next few weeks carving out what was left behind once he was gone. But

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