“I’m saying,” Fredric went on, because he was done letting people talk over him or speak for him. The words coming out of his mouth would be his own. “I’m saying that you need to decide if your feelings for me are worth more than your fear of Julian being angry.”
“This isn’t fair,” Ilan said after a long beat. “You can’t promise me time and patience and then give me this bullshit ultimatum.”
Fredric reached behind him for the counter, missed, and hit the searing hot roasting pan. When he heard Ilan make a soft noise and take a step forward, he grit his teeth and held his hand up. “Don’t. It’s just a burn. I’ve had worse.”
Scoffing, Ilan brushed past him, and a moment later, Fredric heard the faucet on. When he didn’t move, Ilan let out a growl and seized his arm, then pressed a wet, barely cool towel to his skin. “You need to lower the temperature of your skin so it doesn’t blister. You can be mad at me all you want, I’m still a fucking doctor.”
Fredric softened a little, but not enough, and he gently pulled away. “I’m not giving you an ultimatum, Ilan. I’m saying your fear is putting my relationship with my son at risk, and it’s unfair of you to ask me to keep lying to him. I made a promise to him to always be honest…and so did you.”
“So, what are you saying?” Ilan bit out. “We tell him now or it’s over?”
Fredric bristled. “It has never been that—it will never be that.” He ran his hand over his face, his frustration rising because Ilan wasn’t listening to him. “I care about you more than I can possibly say, but you can be incredibly selfish sometimes.”
“I see.” And Fredric winced, because Ilan’s tone was dead. Flat. He heard him take several steps back. “If that’s the way you want it…”
“I’m not going to be manipulated,” Fredric told him. “I’ve been through that enough already. I need…” The words were going to kill him, but he forced them out anyway. “I need you to go home.”
“Fine,” he said, and Fredric squeezed his eyes shut.
“We can talk in the morning.”
Ilan said nothing, and after a beat, Fredric heard the door shut. For a moment, he waited. He wanted that movie moment—the lightbulb moment. For Ilan’s love to push through all the ways he was being held back. He wanted him to burst through the door and rush in and kiss him until neither of them could breathe.
Instead, Fredric heard the car start up, and then back away, and he was left with an aching arm, a candle burning in the window, and absolute silence.
Chapter 24
Ilan ached from head to toe, his body dragging with fatigue. He used to thrive on sleepless nights—wandering the hospital halls with unnatural energy. But it wasn’t age dragging him down this time—it was guilt. It was the heavy weight of a long night forcing him to stare into the darkness and listen to the silence, knowing he’d fucked up.
He’d stormed out of Fredric’s with self-righteous indignation whispering in his ear that he was right—that Fredric was being unreasonable. That if he loved him, he’d see things Ilan’s way and understand why he couldn’t do this.
And then the emptiness of his home quieted that voice and forced him to see the reality of himself. He sat on his sofa, stared at the wall, and realized the one person he wanted to call about his aching heart was the reason why his heart was aching in the first place. Julian was his best friend—he’d seen him through every important moment in his life, and now his fear was shutting him out. He knew Fredric was right—Julian wouldn’t be angry about him falling in love with Fredric, he’d be angry that Ilan hid it for so long.
He was a coward. The same coward who had run from relationships. The same coward who had taken Fredric into his arms and whispered promises forever, then threatened to set them on fire when Fredric wouldn’t do exactly what he wanted.
Ilan let his fear turn him into the sort of partner who could never deserve a man like Fredric. He’d spent years watching Jacqueline manipulate and control Fredric with vicious promises to destroy his happiness. He’d overheard more than once her threats to take the children from him and vow to leave him suffering and alone for the rest of his life if he didn’t go along with what she wanted.
He hadn’t done that—not even close. But it was close enough, and he had never felt guilt that strongly before in his life. He wasn’t quite sure how to process it, and he wasn’t quite sure how to stop the image of Fredric’s betrayed, heart-broken face from flashing behind his lids every time he closed his eyes.
He was a fucking bastard.
The first thing he wanted to do was drive over there and apologize, but he needed to get his head on straight first. His first thought was to call Julian and confess everything, but he knew that would be going a step too far. He and Fredric had to decide that together—assuming Fredric would forgive him. And fuck, the very idea that he might not get another chance made him feel like someone was slowly ripping out his guts while he sat there and watched.
This situation needed kid gloves, and he needed caffeine.
He let out a frustrated sigh when he saw that his coffee tin was empty. The very last thing he wanted was another delay in making amends, but he didn’t think an hour was going to make much of a difference in the grand scheme of things. He grabbed his phone, then after a beat, pulled up Fredric’s contact and called.
His breath caught in his throat as it rang. And then rang. And then rang.
For a moment, he thought maybe he’d get that eleventh-hour miracle. Fredric would pick up just before it went to voicemail. Ilan would stumble through begging, and Fredric would agree to see him, and then he could begin making things better.
“…for calling. You’ve reached Fredric Pedalino. Please leave a message…”
Ilan dropped his forehead to the counter and groaned, then hung up and groped for his keys. Pressing the sharp metal into his palm, he jabbed his finger over the message icon and decided that whether Fredric liked it or not, he was going to hear Ilan out. And he’d just give him a quick head’s up.
Ilan: I don’t know if you’re ignoring my calls or not, but we need to talk. I have to run a quick errand, but I should be by your place around ten. Please be there or at least let me know where I can find you.
He hit send, then shoved the phone into his pocket and got into the car. It buzzed halfway through the drive, and it took everything in his willpower not to pull it out and read it while he was trying to navigate the morning traffic. His nerves were buzzing, and he eventually peeled into the café parking lot and wriggled around until he could get the damn thing out.
Fredric: Was in the shower. I’ll be here. Take your time.
It was the most emotionless text he’d ever gotten from his lover—not that he deserved better, but he was taking it as his last chance. Fredric would be waiting for him. He had hope, and he was going to cling to it until he could either grab Fredric and never let go or until the universe pried the tattered relationship from his cold, dead hands.
He didn’t want to think the last one was a possibility, so he promptly shoved it out of his mind and hurried inside to get in line. The minutes ticked by, and the baristas seemed to be moving at a glacial pace. It felt like a test of his willpower, but he wanted to take the moment as a blessing in disguise.