it when he knew Roget’s. He knew the date of the man’s birth and his death. He knew how he’d left this world.
And he knew that he was probably wilder than Xan would ever be. But that was okay. He’d taken at least one risk, and he’d take more the moment he set foot back home.
His trip to London had done enough to center him. He eventually let Cian surprise him with a drive to Brighton Beach before he left. The wheel was no longer working, but the crowds were thick, and the air was crisp coming off the sea. They spent the day wandering, stopping to eat doughnuts by the water, walking barefoot over smooth rocks to dip their toes in the icy water.
Cian didn’t call him again after they got back, but he didn’t mind. He was ready to go home. He was ready to start over.
Of course, it all started the same way it had before, like he was running through water and sand. He wanted to ignore all the things his therapist said to him, run into the arms of Sebastion and Luca, and let their comfort and want erase all the ugly, dark parts that Max had left behind.
He cried a little, mostly out of anger. He raged a lot, usually in his new apartment behind closed doors where he’d eventually land on the floor with his knees pressed to his chest and heaving, dry sobs ripping from his lungs. His knuckles ached from pounding them on the floor, and his eyes were puffy and swollen from waking up every few hours from nightmares where he’d be standing and screaming at Max and the man couldn’t hear him.
And eventually, it started to get better. He slept without having to take a pill, he ate a little more normally—if not still like a twenty-something grad student who only remembered when his stomach started to gnaw on itself. But it didn’t hurt to breathe, and by the time he’d run into Max, the pain was no longer part of the things that defined him.
It was there—it lingered, but it wasn’t going to be forever.
He ran into Todd three days after he’d warned the stranger away from Max. The moment had given him the confidence to at least try to reach out to Luca. He’d made his way to McMillan Hall where all the chem professors had their offices, and he stood at the reception desk with way too much hope in his heart.
“I know it’s a long shot because I don’t think he holds classes during summer, but do you know if Dr. Fischer comes in for office hours at all?”
The student behind the desk gave him a placating grin. “I’m sorry, Dr. Fischer retired at the end of the semester. But I can put you in touch with Dr. Cohn who took over for him.”
The words penetrated a fog that settled over him, and he was stepping back before he was even aware of it. “Oh. Uh…”
Before he could finish his thought, a voice to his right interrupted him. “You’re the dog-walker, right?”
There was something painfully familiar about it, and when Xan turned, his eyes fell on a face he knew he’d never forget. He was older, but not much else had changed about the man who had likely saved his life.
“Oh my god, you’re…” He stopped and cleared his throat, glancing at the door. “Sorry, I have to…” He tried to escape, but the man kept at his heels as a name tugged at his memory. Tim? Todd?
“Hang on a second,” he said, and Xan turned.
“Sorry um. It’s been a weird day, and I never thought I was going to see you again. But here you are…” He let out a half-hysterical laugh and brushed his fingers through his hair. “Did I ever say thanks for saving me?”
Todd. His name was Todd, and he raised a brow, smiling as he shook his head. “You probably did. Profusely. It was a weird night. I’m sure Luca remembers it better than I do.”
And that’s what struck him in the chest like an actual blow. “Luca was there?”
“Yeah.” Todd cast him a confused frown. “He said you two talked outside the bar for a few minutes.”
It was like glass shattering and water flooding in, choking the breath out of his lungs because…because Luca was…him. Luca was the man. He was the explosion—the fireworks.