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, Julian. Your father can’t see it, but you can. I can. Corinne will make friends, and they’ll be able to see it too. Those filthy shoes, those clothes. He’s at that school because his father works in the front office, and that is not the sort of friend you’re expected to bring home.”
“He’s my only friend,” Julian said, and Ilan’s heart twisted in his chest because yes, he knew that. It was obvious that before he’d come to the school, Julian had been a deserted island.
“That’s because you don’t try. It’s bad enough we can’t hide that scar, but this chubby little face of yours…it’s no wonder no one wants to associate with you. Sometimes I wonder if your father only loves you the way he does because he can’t see…”
And then Ilan ran, because he couldn’t take it. He could fight bullies and hug Julian and make promises that someday they’d run away together and never look back. But he couldn’t ever undo the things his own mother must have been saying for years. And he fundamentally couldn’t understand how anyone could hate that small, quiet, kind boy.
Something shifted after that. They watched movies, then ate dinner after Mr. Pedalino got home, but Ilan couldn’t bring himself to smile or hold conversations the way he normally did. They went outside when they were finished, because it was near summer, and it was still light out, and Julian wanted to swing. Ilan didn’t feel like doing much of anything, because he was too young to understand how to fix the situation, but he was old enough to know that Julian was slowly shattering inside, bit by bit.
And there might be a day where there was nothing left of him.
“You were very quiet tonight,” came a voice to his right, and Ilan looked over to see Mr. Pedalino making his way across the grass with his cane. It hit the table Ilan was sitting on, then he stopped. “Are you here?” he asked after a prolonged silence. “The cook said she saw you sitting at the table.”
Ilan shrugged, then remembered he had to speak. “Yeah, it’s just me though. Julian’s on the swing.”
“I know. I was talking about you.” His hand reached out, found the bench, then he sat. “Do you want to talk about what’s wrong?”
Ilan bit the inside of his cheek. “Why does she hate him?”
Mr. Pedalino blinked like he’d been slapped across the face. “I don’t know who…”
“Mrs. Pedalino. She hates Julian. The stuff she says to him is so…” Ilan stopped when his voice cracked, and he felt suddenly weak and desperate to go home so he could hug his parents. “Why?” he finished on a whisper.
“She doesn’t hate him,” Mr. Pedalino said, but the words sounded like the lie they were.
“Yeah. Yeah, she does.” Ilan felt his anger rising, because it was obvious this man loved his son, but he also didn’t do anything to stop his wife from being so cruel. “My mom doesn’t talk to me like that, even when she’s real, real mad. My dad…he never would. They love me. She doesn’t love him. Why don’t you stop her from making him cry?”
Mr. Pedalino’s eyes closed, and he let out a breath, and he said nothing at all.
It was that moment Ilan knew that he’d protect his friend with his life. And it was in that moment he wasn’t sure he would ever forgive Fredric Pedalino for not doing the one thing he was supposed to do as Julian’s father. It was the moment Ilan realized that love wouldn’t always be enough.
Leaning back in his desk, Ilan glanced around his office. His diplomas and certifications lined the walls, dusty because the moment he put them up, he stopped giving a shit about them. He liked his office, he liked his staff. He liked at least thirty percent of his patients as people, which was an astounding amount compared to most of his colleagues.
And once upon a time, that shit mattered. Once upon a time, he reveled in being the man who was best at his job—who had a reputation for patients falling in love with him because he was competent and kind. He liked the idea that no one had been worth settling for, and no one ever would be. Julian had always wanted more for Ilan, but he also respected that Ilan held the idea of relationships in contempt and was going to be satisfied staying out of one for the rest of his life.
And Ilan didn’t resent Julian for falling in love. It was impossible to do that when he saw the way Archer loved him. It was the kind of love from old literature that Julian was always quoting. Shit about the sun and stars and lassoing the moon. Love made most people weak and vulnerable, but Archer gave Julian strength, and for that, Ilan would never look down on what they had.
He just wasn’t willing to take the risks Julian took in order to get there.
Clicking on his mouse, Ilan opened up his Facebook window and saw a tagged photo of Julian from Archer’s page. He was on the street, staring up at the top of the Arc de Triomphe, his hand above his eyes shielding him from the sun that was lighting up his hair like it was on fire. He looked good. He looked content. He looked like he was at home, which made Ilan ache a little because he was thousands of miles, an ocean, and part of a continent away from him.
The worst part though, was when Julian quit his job and packed his bags and decided to call another country home, Ilan went to his office and took a good look around and realized that none of that shit actually mattered. He’d stayed close to where they grew up because that’s where everyone he cared about lived. But over the years, things began to change. His parents died, Julian escaped the life that was suffocating him. Hell, even Fredric had given Jacqueline everything in the divorce and disappeared into the wind.
And frankly, he was still reeling from that one.
Ilan couldn’t help but think back to his childhood, to that feeling of conflict both loving and hating Fredric for his strength and weakness. And there was a piece of him that would probably always be angry because Fredric should have done more, but Ilan had grown up with eyes wide open and understood now what Fredric had gone through with his ex-wife’s fingers wrapped around his throat, only just able to breathe. He had never quite been able to believe that Fredric would find his way out, though.
But he had.
And that was what motivated him to write his resignation letter and to post a goodbye to his patients before he began transferring their records to one of the other network doctors. There was nothing left for him in this town except old, bitter memories and a string of former hook-ups he had no intention of seeing again.
And once that was done, well, he had no fucking idea what was supposed to come next. But he wanted to feel sand between his toes and breathe in ocean air. He wanted to return to the coast he’d always dreamed about as a kid and do it without feeling like he was letting someone down or leaving them behind.