12. Ian
TWELVE
IAN
Thunder cracks through the room making Julian flinch, and rain pounds against the windows. It’s coming down in sheets. “When I said everything will work out,” he says, voice tight. “I didn’t mean being trapped in this house for another week with an owner who clearly doesn’t want us here.”
“He does,” I say quickly, then grab for his hand before he paces a hole into the warped floorboards. I tug him with me onto the bed. It groans under his weight. “I talked to him.”
Julian looks at our joined fingers then at me. “Did he threaten your life if you didn’t extend your stay and give them money?”
“No.” His brain, I swear. “They might lose this place, actually. I think he’s scared to let his wife hope this will change things.”
Sympathy flashes behind his eyes and he exhales heavily. His gaze drops to the floor. “Is it my turn to freak out now?”
The soft light from the lamp illuminates his handsome features. Full lips, sharp cheekbones. So damn handsome. “You were right, this doesn’t have to be bad.” I squeeze his fingers. “We will figure it out.”
Another crack of lightening floods the room.
For a split second we sit in silence. “What do you want to do?” he finally says.
I should say anything. We have all the time now.
We could play cards or watch a movie. We’re on vacation, getting rest for the first time maybe all year.
Best of all I’m here with my best friend.
“I’m just happy to hang out here with you.” The words settle between us, and I can see him thinking.
“What else are you thinking?”
I almost brush it off, but I need to be honest. I need to stop hiding myself. “This may sound a bit crazy, but when Alexander was telling me about this place, I felt like . . . I don’t know, like this was fate.”
His brows shoot up his forehead. “Fate?” He blinks.
As crazy as it sounds, yeah. I do believe that. “Maddox would have loved it here.”
“He had a thing for run-down houses?” Julian laughs softly.
“You should have seen the shop when he bought it.” I shake my head, thinking about that day. Fuck, I wanted to strangle the shit out of him. “It was so run-down. The former owners had abandoned it before trying to sell it. Did you know he bought it without telling me?”
“What?!”
“Oh yeah. He just dove headfirst into shit. Act first, think later. That was him. He did it, though. With our friends’ help, once we’d forced him to accept it.
He didn’t see limits.” Maddox knew how to hustle.
He did so many under-the-table jobs just to get enough money for a down payment.
He didn’t think about anything other than achieving the end goal.
No matter what, he was going to own that shop.
One way or another. “Supporting a place like this . . . I think maybe this is exactly where I’m supposed to be. ”
His brows crease. “What about the ashes?”
“Wherever they are.” I try not to think too much about it and trust they will be found.
“And to be honest, I don’t even know if I want to spread them.
” I keep thinking that’s what I need to do for closure.
Go on the vacation Maddox never got to experience.
I don’t think that’s going to bring me the peace I think it will, though.
Maybe it’s selfish, but I want those ashes with me.
Julian’s fingers slip from mine to rest on my knee. The contact is simple, but heat spreads through my leg. “Whatever you decide,” he says softly. “I’m here.”
The rain pounds harder, relentless now, and the room feels small. Jules’s hand stays where it is, warm and solid, grounding me here.
Lightning flashes and the inn groans around us.
My fingers move before I can stop them, to lie on top of his hand on my knee.
His eyes snap to mine, dark and searching. The air between us begins to tighten. I can feel my pulse in my throat. “Are you still mad?” I ask quietly.
“No.” He swallows and I watch his throat bob, and I have the inappropriate thought that I want to lick it. Right from the dip of his collarbone up to his throat. Maybe while I’m straddling his lap and his hands are on my waist. Okay, shit, think of something else.
“We deserve a break, Jules.” I offer a smile. “Beaches and sunshine are overrated anyway.”
His lips grow into a smile. “My mom loved storms like this,” he says suddenly. “She’d plan for them. Her favorite tea, a good book. These ridiculous fuzzy socks. A warm blanket. A show she’d been putting off.”
The shift is abrupt, but I’ll take it. I just want him to talk to me. “Fuzzy socks?” He nods, and something soft settles over his features. It feels fragile. “Then let’s do that. A storm day just for her.”
He looks at me and then he hits me with a small smile. “I don’t have fuzzy socks, and you don’t have your bag.”
I think for a moment and I have an idea. “Well, if you don’t mind lending me a pair of pajamas, I’ll go downstairs and see what I can come up with.”
“What do you want me to do?” he asks as I stand.
“Pick out a few good movies. I’ll be right back.”
I make my way downstairs, my footsteps echoing through the cavernous house. It’s too big for just us to be here. Too quiet. I can imagine how this house would have looked years ago, filled with laughter, arguments, the clink of dishes, and the breath of life.
I don’t know the first thing about running a bed and breakfast, but I do know what it’s like to build something from nothing.
To pour yourself into a dream and pray you don’t fail.
I know this because I watched Maddox go through it.
For the most part he was very optimistic and refused to let challenges slow him down.
Then there were the few rare moments when his insecurities would catch up, and self-doubt would creep in. It didn’t happen often, but I always made sure to remind him how incredible he was and that nothing would stop him.
Since talking to Alexander something inside me has softened. I saw it in his eyes—love. The kind that hurts when you can’t fix what’s hurting the person you love. I know that feeling so well.
“Oh, Ian.” Xia beams as she steps into the dining room carrying a large box in her arms.
I hurry over and take it from her; it’s heavier than it looks. “Oh, thank you. Right over here.”
I set it down on the long wooden table. Inside are stacks of dishware wrapped in newspaper. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“Just cleaning up a bit.” She smiles. “These were my mother’s. I thought I’d polish them and set them out for guests.” If we get any is what I hear. “They’re too pretty to stay in the box. Is there something I can help you with?” she asks.
“Um, yeah, actually.” I glance around the dining room aware of how intimate this house feels despite its size. “Julian and I are going to watch a movie. I thought maybe tea or hot chocolate would be nice if you had any. I can pay you back.”
“Like a movie date?” She grins wide.
Heat crawls up my neck. “Not a date. No. Just a friendly hangout.”
“Sure thing.” She winks. Oh my god. “Give me twenty minutes. I’ll bring up hot chocolate and tea for Mr. Julian if he wants it.”
“That would be great. Thank you.”
She shoos me out of the dining room. “No problem at all. You go on upstairs. I’ve got everything under control for your movie date.”
I twist to look at her as I walk up the stairs. “Not a date.”
“Whatever you say.” She beams, disappearing into the kitchen.
I head back up, my heart beating a little too fast for someone who insists this isn’t a date.
Julian is in the room when I step in, wearing baby-blue pajama pants.
They hang on him like the waistband is giving his hips a gentle hug.
I take a moment to admire the curve of his ass behind the fabric.
Unfortunately for my eyes, he turns around when he hears the door shut.
“Oh, hey.” His eyes flick down to my empty hands. “She didn’t have anything?”
“She’s bringing it up.” I swallow. “In twenty.”
He nods. “Nice.”
“Nice pants.” I swallow, trying like hell to drag my eyes away from him.
“I got you a pair. Here.” He hands me soft red ones. “They’re pretty worn but soft as hell.”
I hesitate for a second then kick off my jeans and tug them on. They fit almost too well.
Julian isn’t wearing a shirt, and I peel mine off over my head. I’m hyperaware of every inch of his exposed skin. “These are dangerous.” I tug on the pants. “Soft. I could live in them.”
“Told you. I don’t splurge on a lot of things, but I spare no cost when it comes to comfort.” He grabs the remote and pulls up the app. “I picked a few movies. You know I don’t fuck with blood and gore, but I picked Jurassic Park—”
“Technically a horror.”
“It’s dinosaurs,” he says defensively. “Dinosaurs are awesome.” I laugh. “I also picked The Incredibles, and Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
“Rocky Horror Picture Show?”
“Are you going to question every choice I make?” His eyes narrow with an amused spark. “I love musicals. And then I picked Ponyo.”
“What’s Ponyo?”
He exhales dramatically. “It’s Studio Ghibli. The art and animation are insane. They’re beautiful movies. Which one do you want to watch?”
It’s just after lunch now and I have no plans except to lie in bed with him. “Why not watch them all?” I shrug, sitting close enough that our knees brush. “We’ve got nothing else to do.”
He studies me for a second like he’s trying to decide something. “Okay,” he says quietly. “We’ll start with Jurassic Park and work our way down.”
“Sounds amazing, Jules.”
He fidgets with the hem of his pants. “Do you mind if I draw while we watch?”
“Draw?”
“I just can’t sit still if I’m not doing something with my hands. I get restless watching movies. I want to watch them. It’s not that I don’t. I just need to do something else while I watch TV.”
There’s something fragile in his tone, like he thinks I’d find that weird. “Of course. That sounds perfect.” He looks up at me, surprise or relief heavy in his eyes. “I wish I had mine,” I add.
“You can use some paper. I brought a couple.” His voice softens. “We can both draw.”