CHAPTER 36: HOME FOR A SHORT WHILE

Chapter 36

JULIAN POLE

After Jace left, I stayed still for a while. My hands were shaking, and my reflection in the mirror looked like I’d just walked through a dream. The kind that feels too real to be a dream at all.

I took a breath. Straightened my shirt. Fixed my hair. Then I reached for my mask and slipped it back on. It smelled faintly of cologne and kitchen smoke.

The rest of the event went by in a blur. Faces, lights, laughter that didn’t sound real. Plates clinking. Cameras flashing. People shaking hands. I moved through it all quietly, serving drinks, taking empty glasses, pretending not to exist.

By the time it ended, my feet ached, and the room was thinning out. Someone announced that the event had been a success. Everyone clapped. I just wanted air.

When we were finally dismissed, I walked out to the parking lot like he told me to. The night was cold and quiet, the kind of cold that made every breath feel clean. I found a spot near the edge of the lot, beside a row of tall hedges, and waited.

My hands were still trembling a little. I shoved them into my pockets.

Cars came and went. Then a silver car pulled up in front of me, headlights flashing once.

Marco stepped out from the driver’s side, wearing a grin that was half mischief, half exhaustion.

"You really did it," he said, walking toward me. "You actually got in."

I shrugged. "You’re the one who made it possible."

He smirked. "Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually pull it off."

He tilted his head toward the car. "Come on, I’m not letting you stand out here. You’ll freeze."

I followed him to the car, the pavement cold under my shoes. He opened the passenger door for me with a teasing little bow.

"So polite," I said, smiling despite myself.

"Don’t get used to it," he replied, and shut the door once I was in.

The car smelled like...wealth. A jacket was thrown over the backseat, and the radio hummed low, some old R&B song.

Marco got in, started the engine, and pulled out of the lot.

"Where are we going?" I asked after a moment.

"Somewhere Dad doesn’t know exists," he said.

I blinked. "That’s... comforting."

He laughed. "Don’t worry, it’s safe. We all go there sometimes when we need to breathe."

The city lights faded as we drove. The buildings grew shorter, then disappeared into open roads. The hum of traffic softened until it was just us and the engine and a few passing headlights.

Marco wasn’t in a rush. He drove with one hand on the wheel, eyes calm, humming along to the music. Every now and then, he glanced at me.

"So," he said eventually, "what’s the plan, Jules?"

I looked out the window. The trees were black outlines against the faint blue of the sky. "I didn’t think that far. I just wanted to see him."

He nodded like he understood. "You did."

"Yeah."

"And?"

I hesitated. "It felt like I’d been holding my breath for weeks, and I could finally breathe again. But now that it’s over, I don’t know what to do with the air."

Marco chuckled softly. "You sound like him, you know."

"Who?"

"Jace. When he was your age, he talked like that all the time. Like he was living in two worlds and neither of them wanted him."

I smiled faintly. "Maybe he still is."

"Maybe," Marco said, eyes on the road. "But you’re the first person I’ve seen get through to him in years. That’s not nothing."

The road curved, and we passed under a tunnel of trees. Their shadows danced over the windshield, breaking the light into soft patches.

After another half hour, he slowed down. "We’re here."

Outside, the world looked completely different. Quiet. Green. We were far from the city now, somewhere that smelled like wet earth and pine. A big house sat near the edge of a lake, all dark wood and soft yellow lights glowing through the windows.

It didn’t look like the kind of place you hide in. It looked like the kind of place you heal in.

"This is... beautiful," I said, stepping out of the car. The cold air bit at my cheeks, but it felt good. Real.

Marco grabbed a small bag from the trunk. "Come on. Mateo’s inside."

"Your brother?"

"Yeah. The calm one. You’ll like him."

I followed him up the wooden steps. The house smelled faintly of cedar and something sweet. Tea? I don’t know but it’s smell so good.

The inside was simple but warm. Big windows, a fireplace, books stacked on the coffee table, and a soft rug.

Mateo was there, sitting on the couch. When he stood up, I almost forgot to breathe for a second. He really did look like Jace. Same eyes, same sharp lines in his face. Just younger, softer somehow.

He smiled politely. "You must be Julian."

"That’s me," I said.

"Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard... things."

"Good things, I hope."

He laughed. "Mostly."

Marco dropped the bag on the counter. "Don’t start, Mateo. He’s had a long night."

Mateo raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. No lectures."

I looked between them. "You two fight a lot, don’t you?"

Marco grinned. "Only when he breathes."

Mateo rolled his eyes. "He’s exaggerating. As usual."

They both laughed, and for a moment, the tension I didn’t realize I was carrying started to fade.

After a few minutes, Marco said, "Come on, I’ll show you where you can clean up. Jace will probably be late, but he’ll come."

He led me down a short hallway and opened a door to a small guest room. It was simple. White sheets, a lamp, a soft rug, and a bathroom attached.

"You can shower and change," Marco said, setting the bag down on the dresser. "I threw in something comfortable."

"Thank you," I said.

He nodded. "You did good tonight, Jules. Not many people could walk into my father’s world and come out standing."

I smiled a little. "You make it sound heroic."

"It kind of is." He turned to leave, then stopped at the door. "Oh, and try to get some sleep. You look like you’ve been fighting ghosts."

I smiled and nodded.

When he was gone, I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment. The quiet was strange. No traffic, no voices, just the sound of wind through trees.

I took my phone out and stared at the screen. I had messages from Luka and Rico. Memes, random updates, inside jokes. I smiled. Then I hit call.

Luka answered almost immediately. "Dude, where the hell are you? You said you’d be here by nine!"

"I know. I just... plans changed."

"Changed how?"

"I’m safe. Promise. I’m just somewhere out of the city."

"Julian—"

"I’ll explain later, okay? Just tell my mom I’m still at your place. And don’t worry. I’ll be fine."

He sighed. "Fine. But if you get murdered, I’m haunting whoever did it."

"Deal."

We both laughed softly, and then I hung up.

I took a quick shower, the kind that makes you feel almost human again. The hot water loosened the tightness in my shoulders. When I came out, I felt lighter.

I changed into the clothes Marco left. Sweatpants, a soft big T-shirt, a hoodie, probably because it’s cold here.

From the window, I could see the lake outside. The moonlight touched it just enough to make it look silver. I saw Marco and Mateo standing near the porch, talking. Their gestures were sharp, like they were arguing, but their voices didn’t reach me.

I wondered if they were talking about me. About Jace. About what happens next.

Eventually, Marco came back in. "You all good?" he asked, leaning on the doorframe.

"Yeah," I said. "Thanks for this."

He smiled faintly. "Don’t thank me yet. This house has a habit of stirring up things you’re not ready to face."

"Sounds familiar."

He chuckled. "You’re definitely his type."

He nodded toward the bed. "Get some rest. He’ll be here soon."

When he left, I turned off the lamp and sat down on the bed. The sheets were soft, and for the first time in weeks, my chest didn’t hurt.

I wanted to stay awake, to see him walk through the door. To hear his voice again. But my body had other plans.

I lay down, staring at the ceiling until it blurred. My eyelids felt heavy, and before I knew it, I was drifting.

I don’t know how long I was out.

A few minutes, maybe hours. The kind of sleep that swallows time.

When I started waking, the first thing I felt was warmth. The kind that feels like home. Then soft kisses. Slow, scattered across my face. A thumb brushing my cheek. A nose nuzzling into my neck.

I didn’t panic. I knew that touch. That smell. That quiet way he breathes when he’s close.

I smiled and reached up, pulling him closer. I kissed him back, half asleep, half laughing. He really came for me.

He pulled back, just enough to look at me, his lips still brushing mine when he spoke.

"Hi," he said, voice soft, almost like a sigh.

"Hi," I whispered back.

He’d showered. I could tell from the clean scent of soap and his damp hair. He’d changed into a dark shirt, sleeves rolled up, collar loose. He looked different. Lighter.

"How are you?" he asked.

Before I could answer, my stomach decided to answer for me. It growled loud enough to make him laugh.

"Hungry?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Did you eat at all today?"

I didn’t respond, which was enough of an answer. His expression shifted. Soft eyes turning tight around the edges, like guilt and anger had both shown up at once.

He stood, still holding my hand. "Come on. Let’s find something. You need to eat."

"It’s late," I mumbled, but he was already pulling me toward the door.

"Doesn’t matter."

He was tense. I could feel it through his hand. The anger wasn’t aimed at me. It was in the way he moved, too fast, like he needed to fix something he couldn’t name.

I stopped walking. Stepped in front of him and placed both hands on his chest.

He froze. His breathing was shallow.

"Hey," I said quietly. "It’s okay. It’s not your fault."

He shook his head, eyes closing, like he couldn’t let himself believe that. He kept shaking it.

"Hey, baby," I said before I could stop myself. "Really. I’m fine. I was just... excited to see you. That’s all. Not your fault."

That made him pause. He opened his eyes and looked at me. Really looked. And then, slowly, a smile broke across his face.

"You just called me baby," he said.

"What?"

"You called me baby." He was grinning now, all teeth and warmth.

I could feel my face heat up. "It just slipped out."

"Don’t take it back," he said. "I like it."

I turned away, laughing a little, trying to hide how my chest felt like it was about to burst.

"I mean it," he said, following behind me. His hand caught mine. "I don’t even like when you call me Jace."

"Then what should I call you?" I teased, still walking aimlessly down the hall, not even sure where we were going.

He caught up and wrapped his arms around me from behind, his breath warm against my neck.

"I like it," he murmured, voice lower now. "And I’d like it even more if you called me daddy."

I turned to face him. "You’re ridiculous."

He smirked, leaning closer until our foreheads touched. "Then you’d be my spoiled little princess."

And that’s it. That’s where my brain stopped thinking.

Because I was kissing him. Hard. Hands on his face, his in my hair. The kind of kiss that makes you forget about everything else.

The world went quiet again. The hunger, the worry, the noise.

Gone.

Just him, and me, and the heat between us, soft and wild and real.

The food could wait.