He stopped when Ilan’s hand fumbled for his. “I do. More than I’ve ever wanted anything, and that’s what terrifies me.”
Fredric’s fingers were pressed to the inside of Ilan’s wrist. It was an awkward hold, but he could feel his pulse racing, and he wanted to pull him close and hold him until all the chaos and all the fear melted away. Instead, he brushed his thumb over the skin—he could feel where it was thin and smooth, feel the bulge of veins and tendons. Just another piece of Ilan he now knew with an intimacy he had never considered before.
“I won’t keep pushing you. However I feel, I’ll take no for an answer.” And those words damn-near killed him, but he meant them all the same. “Nothing has to change.”
“It already has,” Ilan said. “I don’t know if I can do this, Fredric.”
And he heard the unspoken word as the sentence lingered. “But?” he chanced, and Ilan let out a rough laugh.
“But I can’t even stay on a date without running when you call.”
Fredric’s head snapped up, and his fingers on Ilan’s tightened. “What?”
“I was on a fucking date when you called me to help you label groceries. My first real date maybe ever. You know, the kind that didn’t mean a quick fuck on my couch before I sent him packing?” Ilan let out a huffing breath, and his fingers stroked absently over Fredric’s knuckles, sending sparks shooting up his arm. “I saw your name on my phone, and I knew if I answered that call, that would be it. It would be over.”
“And you did,” Fredric said softly. “You answered.”
“Yes,” Ilan breathed out, “I did. I did, knowing what I was getting into—but I also did it thinking it was safe because there was no way you wanted me back.”
Fredric’s stomach twisted, and his heart thundered, and he hated how hard this was, how complicated, how much fear ruled the moments between them. But like Teddy said to him, it would be worth the effort. “Except I do.”
“And I don’t know how to tell you no.” But before Fredric could lean in and close the distance between them, Ilan went on. “And I don’t know how to say yes.”
Fredric nodded, deflating a little, but not pulling away. “Then have dinner with me. And a little more wine. And that cake you brought.”
Ilan was silent a long while. “And then?”
“And then we take Bas for a walk. You can tell me what the winter sky looks like here at night. I’ve never asked before.”
Ilan’s fingers twitched, and his voice was thick. “I can do that.” He paused again. “And then?”
“And then, we do it again—and then something else,” Fredric said. He shifted closer, until their knees touched, and Ilan pressed back against him. They started to tangle in places, more than their hands, and it felt right. And as much as he was still nervous, he felt safe. “We see movies, and we eat out. We take a tango lesson at the community center. We find a wine and paint night and you can help me paint a cactus.”
Ilan laughed. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” Fredric said. “I just need to know that it starts here.”
“Just a chance,” Ilan breathed out, like he was making the promise to himself, not Fredric. “And if…if I can’t,” he said, then stopped. “If whatever inside me has been so wrong for all these years stays wrong, and you need something more than I can give you…”
He couldn’t imagine a world in which that would be possible, but he owed Ilan at least one promise tonight, and he could make that one. Tugging their joined hands toward him, he pressed the warm knuckles to his lips and let them linger for a long, long moment. “We will never be broken.”
Ilan’s breath was softer this time, but still trembling—just like his hands. But instead of pulling away, instead of letting whatever he was feeling get the best of him, he didn’t let go.
Chapter 17
Ilan’s head wasn’t really in his meeting, but he was paying his consultant enough money that if he missed out on a day, he trusted things would get done anyway. From the plan in place, it looked like he could have his place up and running by late spring. It was enough time to get his head on straight, but more than that, it was enough time for him to see if this thing with Fredric was going somewhere.
He was still reeling from Fredric baring his soul, from him sitting on the sofa with Ilan’s hand in his and telling him that this meant more than what they’d always been to each other. That it had for a while, that the moment he felt back at the beach during Bryce and Ashton’s wedding was more than just a drunken night of scotch and feelings.
Ilan hadn’t let himself think of it again after that. They’d been close, but they didn’t cross lines. They’d touched more than usual, but Ilan chalked it up to Fredric feeling a lost and a little lonely. His marriage was ending, his son was falling in love—life was changing in ways neither of them had ever expected.
It was a shared moment of… well, fear, he supposed. Or at least of hesitation as they faced the unknown. But to hear Fredric talk about it like it meant more than that rekindled a hope he hadn’t let himself nurture, not even for a second. It was a fleeting brush of hands, a quiet laugh, a single, shared beat of their heart.
And now it wasn’t.
Fredric wasn’t asking for the world, he said. He wasn’t even asking for commitment. He was just asking for a reason to hope. He never thought he’d be faced with the choice of running or staying when Fredric was on the other end.
The moment on the sofa didn’t go beyond what he was comfortable with, though. They touched more and sat closer. They ate at the table and took the walk on the beach that Fredric had asked for. The night was cool, so they stayed close, palms pressed together, and Ilan basked in the warmth coming off the other man.
“Did you still want to know about the sky?” he asked as they stopped to let Bas sniff at a small pile of seaweed.
Ilan couldn’t see much in the hazy glow of night, but he could hear the smile in Fredric’s voice when he answered. “Yes, I do.”
“Well, it’s cloudy,” Ilan said with some defeat. They stood just barely out of the reach of the high tide, the waves threatening to wash over their toes. Bas was running off ahead, chasing skittering ghost crabs moving like shadows across the white dunes, and Fredric’s hand stayed firmly in his. “I went stargazing the other night, though. I took out the kayak and paddled for about a mile. I think it’s very nearly the same sky as home, but…”
“But,” Fredric pressed after a beat.
“But it doesn’t look like it.” He gazed upward again, at a single patch of sky with two stars visible in the break between clouds. He was viciously and almost cruelly reminded of his dad. He was five, maybe six, and he was having a nightmare. They lived in a little apartment with a balcony barely big enough for a folding beach chair, and he stood at the railing and sang him a song in Hebrew. Ilan had long forgotten the words, but it was something about the moon watching over him.
He felt lonely suddenly, yet grounded with Fredric so near. And losing him would kill him, but he was fairly sure that not trying to let himself be loved, and loving just as hard in return would destroy him too. He brought Fredric’s hand to his lips, just like the older man had done with him before, and kissed him over thin, soft knuckles. Fredric let out a sharp breath, his hand going a little tighter on Ilan’s, but he didn’t push for more. He just stood there and let Ilan give these small bits of affection.