The Edge Of Heaven - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,8

took a right, heading for the stairs, because he needed actual space between himself and the others. He was able to breathe again when he got to his parents’ bedroom, and slipped into their ensuite bathroom, closing the door behind him.

It was only then, with hundreds of feet of space and a locked door between himself and the others, that he let himself go. The panic attack had been held at bay by sheer force of will and practice from not letting himself fall apart in front of a classroom full of kids. This moment was all-too familiar, him on his knees, clutching a sink in a bathroom somewhere private while his breath came out in hitching sobs.

The world spun and his chest tightened, and as he counted and tapped his fingers on the cool marble, things started to ease. He wasn’t crying, his cheeks were dry, and his throat only ached a little from holding back the scream that had been lodged there. He felt a rush of bitter hatred toward Bryce that he could still reduce him to this, though Bryce was only one on a long list of things that could set him off.

Julian wouldn’t give Bryce credit where it wasn’t due. His brain simply was the way it was, and Bryce would never have real power over him. He repeated that quietly, a soft mantra, and when his hands were calm, he managed to get out his phone and call Ilan’s number.

“Tell me,” Ilan said by way of answer.

Bryce let out a high, tight laugh and shook his head. “I made up a fake fucking boyfriend and told them I was bringing him to the wedding.”

There was a long pause, then a quiet laugh. “That’s one way to do it.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Julian slid all the way to the floor and leaned his head back against the wood cabinets. The knob dug into the back of his skull, but the pain kept him grounded. “I have to go down there and tell them the truth.”

Ilan was quiet again. “Do you, though?”

At that, Julian laughed. “Uh, yes? Unless you have a way to conjure me a boyfriend in the next forty-eight hours.”

“Give me until tomorrow.”

Julian opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times. “For what?”

“The boyfriend thing. I mean, it can’t be me, they know me, and if I see Bryce…”

“I know. I already told him what you’d do if you ever saw him again,” Julian said, and in spite of the faint tremor still lingering in his voice he managed a real grin.

Ilan laughed. “I hope he knows I will. I will fuck that little shit up for good. But this isn’t over, and we are not letting that man win.”

Julian sighed. “I’m not good at lying.”

“I know.”

“I should just tell them the truth, and then not go.” He scrubbed a hand down his face and hated that the solution was to let Bryce win this small victory. Everyone would talk about Julian regardless, but at least he wouldn’t have to see their faces when they did it.

“Give me a day,” Ilan said again. “Please. If I can figure this out—if we can give Bryce a great big fuck you as his send-off into his next sham marriage…”

Julian sighed, because once Ilan had the idea in his head, there was no convincing him otherwise. And a small piece of him wanted it. A small piece of him wanted a way to make Bryce’s day just a little bit worse, because he deserved it. After everything he’d done, Julian wanted him to feel it just a little.

“Is your ringing silence a yes?” Ilan pressed.

Julian groaned. “It’s a yes, but I have the right to veto.”

“Always,” Ilan said, which sounded like a no, just dressed up a little prettier than that. But he trusted his friend and he knew Ilan would never put him in the position to be truly hurt. Ever.

“Lord what fools these mortals be,” he murmured, and when Ilan made a questioning noise, Julian laughed. “I told everyone my fake boyfriend’s name was William.”

“You are such a fucking nerd.”

Julian grinned. “I know.”

“I love you. I love you so much, and someone else will too. But for now, we’ll settle for making sure Bryce always remembers what he lost for something so pathetic as money.”

Julian’s heart swelled, and it was with those final words he found the strength to stand up, wash his face, and head down to stand against the pity and judgement

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