visits at your beach house.”
Fredric felt something inside him crack. “Ilan, I…”
A squeeze on his wrist quieted him, then Ilan spoke again. “I know why you couldn’t.”
“Didn’t,” Fredric corrected, and Ilan closed his hand over the one Fredric had pressed to his neck.
“Couldn’t,” Ilan said fiercely. “I know why you couldn’t. I know what abuse does to a person. I know what she did to your head and why it took so fucking many wasted years to break free. I want you to find someone, Fredric. Someone who loves every single inch of you for exactly the man you are and will keep loving you no matter what sort of man you become. Because more than anyone I’ve ever known, you deserve it.”
Fredric couldn’t speak. His eyes were hot, and his throat was thick. He’d spent too damn many years never letting anyone get this close to his heart because he was tired of pain—even the good kind. And the kind that Ilan was using to break him down bit by bit was almost too much.
“I’m scared I’m going to fail you,” Ilan said after a moment. “That I’m poison. That I’m going to mess you up trying to help you, because no matter what you say, I am so fucking bad at this.” Ilan broke away from his grasp, and Fredric heard him take two steps back. “I don’t want to be responsible for stealing another chance at you being happy.”
Fredric collected himself, allowed himself one single moment to feel everything Ilan had dumped on him, and then he reached out again. Ilan didn’t back away, and Fredric let his cane fall against the flower bush so he could put both hands on either side of Ilan’s face. “You’re not poison, Ilan. You’re not going to ruin anything. When Julian’s life was shitty and I wasn’t strong enough to stand up for him, you did. You were the one thing that kept his head above water when he was losing strength. This is why I trust you. This is one of the reasons you’re important to me. Not,” he said when he felt Ilan stiffen, “because you helped my son, but because you’re capable of a love most people aren’t. If I wanted someone to walk me through dating bullshit one-oh-one, I would have asked Agatha and Ted. But I want something real. And that’s why I asked you.”
Ilan said nothing, so Fredric stepped in a little closer and pushed up higher and leaned in. He was never good at aim, but his lips grazed the corner of Ilan’s mouth before pressing firmly to his cheek, and he held himself there until he felt the other man relax.
“If you don’t want to do this—if this is too much for you…”
“No, I…” Ilan said, his voice ragged. “It’s not too much. You’re important to me.”
Silence settled over them, and the wind ruffled the geraniums, and they were surrounded by their scent again for a lingering moment. Then it passed, and something careful and very fragile settled between them. Fredric wanted to cup his hands around it and keep it safe and never let go.
“I hear the singing fountains,” Ilan said after a while. His large hand closed over Fredric’s, turning his palm, pressing the handle of his cane against his skin. “Do you want to go check them out?”
Fredric felt the fundamental shift, but he wanted to think it wouldn’t change either of them for the worst. But just in case, he decided to drag the day out as long as possible, so he nodded, and he smiled, and he took Ilan’s arm again. “Lead the way.”
Chapter 13
Ilan sat on his sofa, a glass of Malbec in one hand, the roll of Tums he’d found in his pocket clutched in the other. He counted each tab through the paper with the edge of his thumbnail and tried not to feel the press of Fredric’s kiss that still burned against his skin.
He felt raw and split open from the garden because he’d been utterly unprepared for what was going to happen the moment Fredric climbed into the car. Ilan had glanced over—a thoughtless little thing. Fredric had his head back, eyes closed, his mouth curved up into a smile as the sun made him light up like he was made from all that light.
His stomach had swooped, and he’d nearly missed his turn, and he was entirely fucked, because he realized in that moment, the incident in the shower wasn’t a