Love In Slow Motion (Love Beyond Measure #2) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,8

she sighed.

“No.”

Julian made a soft noise, something scared and helpless, and Ilan curled his hands into fists and said nothing.

“I thought I made myself clear, Julian,” she went on, walking forward. The sound of her heels echoed, and it matched the way Ilan’s heart was thumping against his chest. “I feel like you’re doing this on purpose.”

“That’s quite enough.”

Ilan almost fainted at the sound of Mr. Pedalino’s voice, and he came around the corner without the cane, though he kept his hand touching the wall as he walked into the room. He didn’t look as trussed up this time, wearing trousers and a button up that was untucked, the sleeves rolled to the elbow. He looked like Ilan’s dad in a way, and that calmed him.

Mrs. Pedalino scoffed and gave her husband a scathing look. “This is your doing, I take it? Bringing this…into my house.”

Ilan had never been a this before, and there was a small, ruthless part inside him that liked it. He liked being disapproved of by a woman who looked at her son like she wanted to scrape him off the bottom of her shoe.

“I’m not going to do this here with you,” Mr. Pedalino said. He took a step and held out his hand, and Julian walked over until the man’s large fingers closed on the boy’s tiny shoulder. “Take Ilan and go upstairs, okay? And I’ll send some snacks up.”

“Does he have to go home?” Julian asked in a voice so small, it made Ilan want to cry.

He waited, holding his breath, and then let it out when Mr. Pedalino smiled at him and ran a hand down his son’s hair. “No.” And then his jaw went tense when Mrs. Pedalino scoffed. “No,” he said again, “he does not. Now go play.”

For a single, tense beat of his heart, no one moved. Then, they joined hands, and Julian ran them upstairs faster than Ilan thought he was capable of moving. Neither of them dared breathe until the door was shut, and Julian had his forehead pressed against it like he could keep the cruelty behind them that way.

“Are you okay?” Ilan finally asked.

Julian turned around, facing Ilan. “What? Sorry, I didn’t…”

Sometimes Julian couldn’t hear him well, so Ilan cleared his throat. “Are you okay? That was kind of scary.”

Julian looked mortified, and his face was deep red. “Yeah. She’s just…” He didn’t finish his sentence, and Ilan didn’t ask him to.

Things calmed down after someone brought in soda and chips, and Julian suggested they watch a movie because he had a TV in his room with a little box on the top that played the words on the screen whenever the characters were talking. They laughed a lot after that, and Mr. Pedalino poked his head in and asked them if they wanted pizza.

It felt like the incident downstairs was a bad dream, lingering with a faint hint of anxiety, but easily dispelled with Julian’s grin and their quiet conversations. And while Ilan almost didn’t want to come back when Julian asked if he would, he wasn’t going to leave his best friend to that kind of a life. Not by himself.

Luckily, Julian’s mom was busy a lot, so Ilan didn’t see Mrs. Pedalino again until his third visit over. It was a weekend, and his dad dropped him off and spoke with her at the door as Ilan slipped by and rushed to Julian’s side by the stairs. The boy looked paler than usual, and from the clipped way she spoke to Ilan’s dad, he had a feeling she was being particularly vicious.

“Can you wait upstairs,” Julian murmured. “She wants to talk to me, and…and my dad’s not home tonight. He had to work late on a case with his partner, and um, it won’t take long.”

But he sounded like he was about to stand in front of a firing squad, so Ilan hid behind the wall at the top of the stairs and closed his eyes and listened.

“…don’t think I won’t put a stop to this if you put even a single toe out of line, do you understand me? This kind of influence could be devastating on your sister. She’s impressionable.”

“She’s only four. She doesn’t care who my best friend is,” Julian started to argue, but Ilan could hear the trembling in his voice.

“I never thought you’d be able to set a good example for her, but bringing someone like this into the home constantly—just look at the state of him,