Love In Slow Motion (Love Beyond Measure #2) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,53

and suddenly, on the edge of the breeze, he caught a rich, floral scent. “Must be the fragrance part of the garden?”

“I think so,” Ilan said, and Fredric heard him taking a deep breath. “Ooh, that’s…interesting.”

And it was. It wasn’t particularly nice, but it was new, and it was different. Fredric was well aware places like this existed in more than just his little corner of the world, but he’d never allowed himself to venture out to look for them. His life had always been busy—from sun-up to sundown, and there just wasn’t time. Now he felt like he was trying to play catch-up, and he wondered if that would always stay a moving target.

“Are there a lot of people?” he asked. His voice dropped low, almost a whisper, though he wasn’t quite sure why. But as they ventured further, the moment felt…intimate.

“We’re alone,” Ilan said. There was hesitation, even tension in the silence, then he felt Ilan take a jerky step forward. “Come on there’s…some stuff.”

Fredric’s brows dipped into a frown as they walked the path, then Ilan came to a stop. “There’s these flowers—a sign right here that says to touch them. It’s in braille too.”

Fredric reached for Ilan’s arm instead and followed a line down to the soft petals, and as he ran his fingers over them, a rush of scent surrounded him. “Oh that’s…” he said, trying to find the word, but his vocabulary failed him. “What are they?”

“Geranium,” Ilan said, his voice soft. “It says they release their scent when you touch them.”

Fredric laughed at the wonder of it, letting his hands graze light and delicate over the tops, and he was falling head-first into the fragrance. “What do they look like?”

“Red,” Ilan grunted out. “Ish. Kind of pink. I don’t…I’m not good at this. Sorry.”

Fredric straightened, tucking his cane in close, and he frowned. “If this is making you uncomfortable…”

“It’s not,” Ilan tried to protest, but Fredric’d had enough of Ilan’s sudden cold and hot mood. He stepped forward, and he knew—he trusted—that Ilan would not step away. He reached out with a ginger touch and dragged his fingers up Ilan’s arm. He felt a tremble there, so he went higher until his fingers met skin, and he felt heat, and sweat, and a rapid pulse. “Something’s wrong.”

Ilan made a soft noise, then curled his hand around Fredric’s wrist and held him fast. “Nothing’s wrong. I promise.”

“Then what’s going on? You’re not yourself today.”

“I’m.” A single syllable housed an endless internal war he could hear in the waver of Ilan’s voice, and Fredric had the sudden urge to draw the younger man into his arms and just hold him. But he couldn’t—he knew that. It wasn’t his place, so he simply stood, unmoving until Ilan was ready to speak again. “I’m feeling lost, and it’s frustrating. I thought I knew what I wanted out of life, and now I don’t. I got asked out—I made a date with someone, but now I can’t stop wondering if he’s doing it because he feels sorry for me.”

Fredric understood, and he hated that he did. He hated that Ilan had never really given himself a chance to have more than his weekend lovers and shallow connections. He’d seen the insecurity in the boy when he was younger, fighting against all the students and teachers who made him feel inferior all because his parents’ bank account and jobs dictated that he didn’t belong in that world. And he’d hoped for years that Ilan would outgrow it as he discovered not only his passion, but also that he was good at what he did. But it was clear now how deep those scars ran and how much they still stung.

“Wow, I’m sorry,” Ilan said after a beat. “This is supposed to be about your date. Not my bullshit.”

“No. Don’t do that,” Fredric said, but Ilan’s touch cut him off.

“I don’t need to be taking it out on you right now. This isn’t about me,” Ilan said, and Fredric had a feeling there was something he was holding back, but he didn’t want to press. “For as long as I can remember, I used to fantasize about you leaving Jacqueline. I’d lay in my bed at night, and it would play out like a movie. You’d yell at her and make her feel like shit for all the things she said about Julian—about me. You’d pack a bag, and you’d walk out, and then Julian and I would have weekend