he had days ahead of him—days ahead of them both, and Will understood in ways that no one else there did. Ilan, his father, his therapist—they would all tell him he was allowed to lean on people who were offering themselves as a crutch. That he didn’t have to be strong all the time.
There was no sense in leaning away when Will was asking him to lean in, especially when it would cost them nothing. Nothing but the fee Ilan paid, and although that hung heavy over his head, the price was worth it.
“Thank you,” he said. And the smile he got in return allowed air to fill his lungs, and he almost—almost—smiled back.
Chapter 11
Archer was shaking on the inside. He’d damn near given himself away that morning, and all because he could never control himself whenever anyone asked about his job. And maybe it was people taking a look at him and deciding that he had no place in science, because he was never a genius. The work had never come naturally to him. He didn’t have a knack for numbers and calculations. He had a passion, and an incurable desire to peer through the billions of lightyears—all the way back to the that trillionth of a second when almost nothing became absolutely something—which led to the moment he stood there staring up at the night sky.
His brother had supported him, but he had also taken too long to believe in him. Many of his classmates believed he bought his way in, and far too many had moved on from him never knowing what he could—and would—accomplish.
And then there had been Professor Finch. Archer hadn’t expected to ever think about him again, but the memories of that moment and everything he felt after had been ripped from the cold, dark boxes he’d shoved them into. It was the sound of Julian’s mother that did it. That quiet condemnation, the gentle mocking claiming it was all in his best interest when those words existed only to belittle and humiliate.
He hadn’t thought about Finch since the day he felt confident enough to stop seeing his therapist. And it had been something so small, so minor, he really had gone on believing nothing could ever trigger those old feelings again.
Standing there on the beach so close to Julian he could feel the heat of him sinking through his sweater, Archer had never felt more vulnerable. But he told him, because he needed him to understand that whatever this situation was—however it ended—Archer got it. He understood why Julian needed him, needed this.
They walked on the beach after Julian’s four questions, then before they could escape back to the cabin, Julian’s sister appeared to drag them down for suit fittings. Archer was grateful he was allowed to sit on the sidelines with a few of Julian’s family members, because he felt a little bit too wrecked from bearing his soul.
He felt comfortable on the little settee next to Fredric and his dog, and he stole surreptitious glances at the man trying to find the similarities between him and Julian. His eyes were wandering, a sort of lazy back and forth motion, but he was pretty sure the man had no light perception at all because he didn’t react to anything. His right hand also sat curled in a loose fist, smaller than his other arm, and had only left his side once, and that was to hug his son.
Julian honestly resembled his mother in most of his physical ways. They shared the same dark hair and sharply arched brows. Their mouths twisted in the same sort of natural sneer, and he even mimicked her expressions more often than not. But his quiet strength came from the man sitting next to Archer. Fredric was stoic, but he was easy going, and he didn’t seem to mind leaning in and chatting with Archer just to make him feel included.
“Julian’s mother used to make me do this with her when we first started dating. I was sixteen and overwhelmed by the fact that a girl who looked like her cared a whit about my opinion on a dress.”
Archer let out a small chuckle. “I don’t think Julian’s the type.” He was on his fourth suit, and the most he allowed was for his sister to spin him around in front of the mirror before declaring it unsuitable and sending him back. “He doesn’t seem to be enjoying himself.”