Love In Slow Motion (Love Beyond Measure #2) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,81

When Ilan said nothing, Fredric sighed. “For me?”

Ilan groaned. “That is not playing fair.” But unconsciousness was tugging at his edges, especially with the sound of Fredric in his ear. His voice was soothing, comforting. It was home, and it was the promise of a future where he no longer had to be scared or alone.

Darkness crept in, and he fought it, but he could tell he wasn’t going to win the battle.

He came to what felt like minutes later, but the sky outside his window was dark, and he realized he could smell something cooking. For a second, panic gripped him, and he stumbled out of bed, hurrying into the kitchen where he came to a skidding halt. The kitchen was dark, but there was a figure standing at a glowing burner, and there were only two people he knew who would be bold enough to just walk in his house, and one of them was in France.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he said, flicking on the light. Bastian was there, looking up sleepily from his perch at the older man’s feet.

Fredric turned his face toward Ilan and laughed. “Sorry. I was trying to surprise you. I actually did call an hour ago, but you didn’t answer.”

Ilan dragged a hand down his face and winced at the wrinkle in his cheek from where it had been pressed against his blanket. He dragged his hand through his hair and squinted through the blur, then went for his spare pair of glasses that were sitting near his keys. When the room came into focus, he peered over at a pot on the stove and realized Fredric had soup simmering.

“I made it from the leftovers,” he said, as Ilan crept closer. “Agatha gave me a recipe.”

It smelled surprisingly good, though he knew he should stop doubting Fredric’s skills. His stomach rumbled, and Fredric chuckled as Ilan covered it with his hand. “I haven’t eaten all day. I ran into Preston when I was getting coffee, but…”

“Oh,” Fredric said, and his voice was a little tight. “How is he?”

A smile spread over Ilan’s face, and he nudged him in the side. “Are you jealous?”

“Of a wealthy, attractive, young doctor?” Fredric shot back. “Why ever would I be?”

“I don’t know,” Ilan said very softly. “He’s got nothing on you.” Ilan wanted to reach for him, touch him with the softness he was feeling inside, but he wasn’t brave enough for that yet. He did move a little closer though and covered a yawn with the back of his hand. “Sorry, god.” He rubbed his eyes under his glasses, then leaned his temple against Fredric’s shoulder. “If you give me like half an hour, I can totally be ready for date night.”

“No,” Fredric said, and Ilan lifted his head up. “Not tonight.”

“But you wanted to go on dates, Fredric. I…”

“Stop. We can go dance or see a movie or paint cacti any time,” Fredric said, command in his voice that made Ilan’s stomach tingle. “You’re exhausted. You’re going to eat and relax and then sleep more. Now, get some bowls.”

With a scoff, Ilan pushed past him to his cabinet. “First of all, you don’t get to come into my house and boss me around,” he said, even as he followed Fredric’s command. “Second of all, I don’t need…”

“Hey,” Fredric interrupted, his voice low. “We’re not rushing this. But you’re exhausted, you haven’t eaten, and I have a feeling you’ve been doing a piss-poor job of taking care of yourself for years. I’m not going to hold your hand every day that you’re struggling to figure yourself out, but every now and again I’m going to come over and make you soup.”

Ilan swallowed thickly, his throat hot and tight. “Okay,” he whispered.

Fredric instantly gentled, and he reached out, Ilan not hesitating this time as he stepped into the touch. Fredric’s hands were warm from the steam and a little damp. And they felt like manifested perfection as his palm touched his cheek, and his thumb drew a line just under his eye. “This is because I care. And because I enjoy spending time with you. Not because I have expectations.”

Ilan hadn’t realized how badly he needed to hear that until the words tumbled over him and settled into the space behind his ribs. His breath came out in a tremble, but it was like a release, and his shoulders sagged. He leaned into the touch for a single moment, then he moved away and