10. Ian
TEN
IAN
We walk down a hall that seems to stretch longer than it should. Its old wallpaper, probably once clean and vibrant, feels muted now, the roses on the pattern a dull reddish brown instead of bright red. “I think I see fingernail scratches along these walls.”
Julian shoots me a look then shakes his head. “It’s not that bad.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this exact house in a horror movie.
” There are many rooms as we pass. Ours is the last one on the left, and maybe I’ve watched way too many movies because I’m imagining horrors behind their doors.
Hairline cracks split the molding making it look like spiderwebs, and the narrow floorboards creak beneath our feet.
At least it doesn’t smell old. There’s a fresh lemony scent that brightens up the doom I feel. “You know I don’t watch horror movies,” he says, and a smile slips onto my lips. Julian’s a big baby, and I love that about him.
We find our door, both of us hesitating.
“You go.”
“No, you go!” I nudge him toward the door. His brown eyes narrow. “Come on, I was brave back on the plane. Your turn to tag in.” Julian shakes his head as if I’m being ridiculous and slowly twists the doorknob, opening the room.
Okay, bigger than I expected. “No dead bodies or ghosts. Nice.”
“You’re ridiculous,” he says. We step into the room and I eye the bed—the only bed—in the middle of the room against the wall. “At least it’s a king.”
Everything is starting to sink in.
My bag is gone. Maddox is lost. What if he’s lost for good? I had Julian text Anna from my phone on the ride over here so she can call our hotel. Luckily, we’ll receive a full refund due to the storm. Flights don’t look like they’ll be moving anytime soon.
I want to blame Anna, but this storm came out of nowhere and I’m just as capable of checking the weather.
I’ve been so in my thoughts with everything that’s happened lately, this possibility didn’t even cross my mind.
I always think shit through. I think more about what Julian has said about me lately.
He’s right, I am losing it. Normally I would have planned for every single possible outcome.
It used to annoy the shit out of Maddox.
He loved to be spontaneous, but I don’t do spontaneity.
The last time I allowed someone to be reckless he died, leaving me with a tattoo shop to manage on my own.
Excuse me while I plan for every possible outcome.
“I’ll look for flights tomorrow,” I say softly.
Julian sinks down onto the bed, bouncing on the mattress and testing his weight only to be greeted by squeaky springs. “Guess rough, passionately vigorous sex is out of the question.” I blink at him. “Sorry.” He bites his plump lower lip.
I know he’s making light of this to ease my mind. It’s what we do and I appreciate him, but I just can’t stop thinking about the bag. Julian looks like a scolded kid. His shoulders slump, brown eyes dull with guilt. “This isn’t your fault.”
I scratch my fingers through my hair and look around at the peeling wallpaper. I wouldn’t be surprised if the walls start bleeding.
“This was my idea. Some vacation.”
With a heavy sigh I sit beside him. Exhaustion crawls into me. The rain’s picking up outside, its tapping growing more violent against the windows. I feel restless. Trapped in my own skin. I need to move. Do something.
More than that, I don’t want him feeling some type of way about this. It’s not his fault. “This sucks,” I say.
I jolt a little when his fingers lace with mine, warm and grounding.
“Everything’s a mess right now,” he says. “But we’ve got someone looking for him. She’ll keep checking. We’ll find him.”
Him.
Not the bag.
I swallow tightly.
“Why would she even bother?” I mutter. “I was a dick.”
Julian’s quiet for a moment. “I told her what’s in the bag.
” He looks at me. “I’m sorry. She gave me her name and extension.
I’ll call the airport in the morning and tell her where we’re staying.
She said when it turns up, she can have it sent here.
Everything’s a mess, but it doesn’t mean it won’t get cleaned up. ”
That somehow makes me smile.
“I’m sure of it,” he adds. “He wouldn’t want to go to Puerto Rico without you.”
I drag in a breath and nod. “I’m sorry. I’m just . . . stressed.”
His large hand cups my knee, giving me a squeeze. “Not your fault.”
“Not yours either.”
Thunder cracks overhead, loud enough that I flinch and look up at the ceiling. “Not sure this place will survive a hurricane. Or even the rain.” A drafty chill settles in the room.
“I think it’s cute,” Julian says, looking at me with that spark back in his beautiful eyes.
I admire him a lot. Nothing seems to bother him.
Actually no, that’s not true, a lot bothers him, but he doesn’t break under the pressure.
Julian bends, looking for the positives.
I wish I could be like that. He’s always seeing the bright side of shit.
“Really? Cute?”
He shrugs. “It’s a Victorian house,” he insists. “It’s got character.”
“Is that character starring in a slasher film? Because then I can see it.”
“I’m trying to see the bright side, Ian.”
I look at him, and not for the first time on this trip or even this year I feel that low hum deep in my gut.
The one that shows up whenever I really look at him.
When it’s just the two of us, either drawing together or watching TV.
It’s comfort like a soft blanket. He’s my best friend.
Trying to explain how much he means to me would be impossible.
He’s the light that keeps me going through things I don’t really talk about.
“I’m looking at the only bright side of this,” I whisper.
His brows knit together then morph into something with more heat than I dare to ask about. My stomach thrums with my words. My cheeks burn and I look away.
“We’ll make the most of it,” I add quickly. “It could be fun.”
“You can be positive,” he says dryly. “Just don’t get delusional on me.”
I stand, restless. “Hungry?”
“Always.” Julian stands too, giving me a small smile.
We walk downstairs. The smell of soy sauce, garlic, and something sweet hugs the entrance. The dining room is warm and set in a way that feels welcoming. If not for the front desk, I’d think we just stepped into someone’s home.
A long wooden table is set and Julian looks at me for a long moment.
The woman from the front desk is carrying a pot of something with steam coming from the top. She beams when she sees us. “Oh, good! Just in time. We’re about to have dinner. Come. Come sit.”
We exchange a glance then Julian steps forward. “Oh no, that’s okay, you don’t have to. We’re going to go eat. We don’t want to bother you guys.”
“Nonsense.” She waves us over. “I made plenty. Violet loves scallion pancakes when it rains like this. There’s also air fried tofu, a small thing of leftover ziti, and if you like soup, I made a wonderful chicken noodle soup.”
Julian sits down in a dining room chair. “No real rhyme or reason?” He laughs at the odd arrangement of foods. There’s also a bowl of white rice in the center.
“We have this thing sometimes where we all list one thing we really want to eat and we make everything together as a family. Violet wanted pancakes, Alexander wanted tofu. The ziti is from the other night. I fried the tofu with this honey garlic glaze I make. I love a nice soup on rainy days like this. There’s also fresh bread and rice.
” She smiles. Her black hair is down loose around her shoulders, and she looks to be in her forties.
“I hope there’s something you both will eat. ”
“We really don’t want to be a burden. You don’t have to worry,” Julian says, but I see his eyes light up. Julian loves food almost as much as he loves tattooing. He didn’t eat much at the airport, though.
“I would rather you both eat here than go out into that nasty storm.” The man who I’m assuming is Alexander walks into the room. There’s something a little off but I have no idea what it is. Where his wife is very overzealous, he seems . . . suspicious maybe.
“Mama.” Violet bounces into the room then freezes on seeing us, tucking herself behind her mother’s legs. “Oh.”
“It’s okay. We have guests. Did you wash your hands?” She holds out her dripping hands with a smile. “Good enough.”
Alexander stands with a teapot. “Would anyone like some?” he asks us.
“I’ll take some,” Julian says, grabbing a teacup and one of the bags. He fixes his tea as Xia hands us plates and bowls.
“Help yourselves. There’s plenty.” I wait for someone else to move, and once Violet grabs her food I start.
I’ve never tried scallion pancakes, but they smell incredible.
“There’s sauce over there for them. The lighter one is a soy sauce with chili flakes, and the other is a black vinegar with garlic in it.
“Thank you.” I take the black vinegar one and poor some in a small dish she slides my way.
Julian ladles some soup into his bowl, then some tofu, a small portion of ziti, and a couple of pancakes, getting a little bit of everything. “So.” Xia smiles. “What brings you all to North Carolina?”
“We were on our way to Puerto Rico, but our flight was cancelled,” I say.
“We didn’t know there was a storm incoming. We should have planned better.”
“We shouldn’t have left it to Anna,” I whisper. “It’s okay, though. We’re just a bit tired.” I look around the cozy dining room. Unlike the rest of this barren house, this room is full of warmth. “So, do you two own this house or—”
“Yes.” Xia looks to her husband, whose eyes soften on her before looking at us warily. What is his problem? “We used to live in London, but we wanted to start a family and moved back to the states to be closer to his family.”
“How did you two meet?” Julian asks.
Alexander’s eyes light up, and I think it’s the most emotion I’ve seen from her husband yet. “We met my last year of school.” He smiles. “One look at her and that was it for me.”
“Love at first sight?” I ask.
“Oh, god no,” he laughs. “At least not on her end.”
She slaps his arm playfully. “You have to make them work for it.” She smiles at him. “We lived in London for a while. I’ve always had dreams of opening a bed and breakfast. Lots of people passing through. Making them food. Sharing memories.” She says that last part sadly.
I take a bite of my pancake. “Oh, wow, this is amazing.” I look over at Julian who’s demolishing his soup. “I think he thinks so too.”
“Thank you.” She takes a piece of tofu. “So, what about you two, friends or—”
“Xia.” Alexander chides her.
“Uh, friends. We’re friends.” I answer for Julian who’s moved on to his pancakes. “Hungry?” My brows rise and he gives me a shy smile. “We own a tattoo shop together.” Her eyes go to my tattoos. “We uh, we’re on vacation.”
“Well, that’s amazing. Those tattoos . . .” She points to my chest and the galaxy sneaking out. “Is that yours?” she asks him. The question punches my gut.
“Oh, no. Um, his um, his boyfriend did that.” I watch the two of them and gauge how they feel about that. You never know with people, and with the way Alexander seems to be acting toward us I’m not sure what his deal is.
“Oh, well, he’s very talented.” She smiles kindly.
“He was, yeah.” It slips out. “I mean—” I swallow.
“He uh . . .” Julian looks at me. “He passed a while back.”
“Oh, you poor thing. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“No, it’s okay.” I take a sip of my water, just needing a minute. “It’s okay. We um, just thought we needed a vacation. Our shop’s very busy.” A little nervous but wanting to cut the tension, I stand, lifting my jeans and showing them the knight on my leg. “He did do this, though.”
“Oh, wow,” Violet says. “Can I get a tattoo?”
I roll my pant leg back down with a laugh. “Not until you’re older,” her father says.
“Thank you both for choosing us for your stay.” Xia smiles at her husband. “It’s nice having guests here.”
“It’s a cute house.” I try and make that sound as sincere as possible.
“It’s a little rough, it’s okay, you can say it.” She looks down at her plate. “With the other hotels so close we don’t get as many visitors. So this is nice,” she says sadly, eating one of her pancakes. I watch Alexander reach over and squeeze her arm. “Are there any requests for breakfast?”
“We’re pretty flexible,” Julian says. “He’ll eat literally anything. I just don’t like seafood.”
“Noted.” She smiles, looking at her husband. The scrutiny melts from his face as he looks at her. I’m not sure what his problem is, but I can see how much he loves her.
Conversation flows easily around us. Weather, travel, gentle teases between them. It’s oddly comforting being tucked into this normality after such a chaotic day.
Julian relaxes more as dinner goes on, talking easily.
He always does. Julian is what I call an introvert against his will.
He loves to talk, but he has social anxiety and it takes him a bit to warm up to people.
Once he gets into the flow of conversation, though, he just blooms. I know it’s one of the things he loves about tattooing.
He can talk and not worry about eye contact or awkward silences, and just let the buzz of the machine lull his heart to rest and fill the gaps for him.
Julian jokes with the little girl and I watch him more than I should.
At one point his leg brushes mine then rests there.
He doesn’t move away, and neither do I.
For the first time since the airport I feel lighter. We’re still stuck. My bag is missing. The storm still rages outside.
But we’re fed, dry, and warm.
And Julian is right here. Close enough that I can feel the heat of him through my jeans. There’s a lot to do and so many things that can still go wrong, but I forget about all of it and just enjoy this moment.
Julian laughs at something the little girl says.
While being stuck here isn’t ideal, at least I’m here with him.
Right now that feels like more than enough.