27
Ian
Ian glanced over his shoulder furtively, checking the road. Brad hadn’t chased him down. That was a good sign. It meant he had time to pack, and leave.
He unlocked the door to the house, his chest aching. Couldn’t bear to think about Brad. He wanted to spend longer here, wanted to stay by Brad’s side, watch Gwen and Xavier grow up.
But Ian had lost his job, he’d been shamed in front of Brad, and all he could contribute to the family now was debt.
Better he leave, so Brad didn’t feel obliged to bear his burden.
Ian hurried into the house, turning into the bedroom. Felt his throat close when he saw the bed all rumpled. Brad hadn’t bothered to straighten the sheets before he left. He’d grabbed Ian’s pillows, rolling onto Ian’s side of the bed.
Ian felt a tendril of fondness, and then the ache of loss. Turned to the closet, pulling out the few clothes he had.
The only consoling thing about being poor was that it took hardly any time to pack.
Ian paused when he found the brown kid gloves Brad had given him for Christmas. They had fitted his hands snugly back then, but his hands were swollen from the pregnancy now. The gloves weren’t something he’d need anymore. Ian tucked them under Brad’s clothes.
Fuck you, Brad had said that night, when he’d found out about Gwen.
His throat tight, Ian shoved the rest of his things into a duffel bag. Hurried into the bathroom, grabbing his toothbrush. Everything else in here was Brad’s. Which just went to show how much of a parasite Ian was, didn’t it?
Ian stopped by the bedside table. Pulled open the bottom drawer, where Brad had emptied out his things so Ian had space for his own possessions. Ian didn’t have much there, though. Just a book, and the cookie tin Brad had given him.
They call this a safe box, Brad had said. It’s what you go to when you feel like hurting yourself.
Ian breathed in shakily. He was tempted to leave the box so Brad could have his things back. And yet, if Brad didn’t have a reminder of Ian... that would make it easier for him to move on, wouldn’t it?
So Ian tucked the cookie tin into his bag, thinking about Brad’s warm eyes, and his careful touch.
He choked up then, his heart aching. He needed to burrow into Brad’s chest. Just so Brad would hold him, and everything would be okay.
Ian left the duffel bag on the floor. Picked up Brad’s pillow and hugged it, breathing in walnut and musk. It smelled good. Comforting. Ian bit his lip, then tucked the pillow under his arm.
Maybe Brad wouldn’t mind if a pillow was missing.
Ian stopped by the hallway bathroom on the way out. On a whim, he checked the medicine cabinet. The cardboard box with the scalpel was gone—Ian hadn’t a clue when Brad had thrown it away.
That was okay. If he scraped together enough money... maybe he’d get a new one.
He shut the medicine cabinet, and stopped by Gwen’s room. Savored the neatly-made bed, the bookcases, Gwen’s sticker sheets, and all her trucks parked against the wall.
Ian bit his lip, his heart tight with longing. He would miss Gwen. He wouldn’t be back to see her often, and... it would be best for her, leaving her with Brad. So she could have everything she needed.
He crouched by her row of trucks, took the smallest one, and tucked it into his bag. Then he shut the door, padded down the hallway, and locked the front door. Left the key in the mailbox.
Ian wiped the tears off his cheeks, piling his things into the trunk of his car.
This had been home. For a few months, Ian had been incredibly happy. He hadn’t realized what he’d had until he was leaving it all behind.
June’s car pulled up into the driveway. Ian’s heart clenched at the sight of his daughter.
When June parked, Gwen leaped out of the car, ponytails bouncing. “Daddy! June said you’re going somewhere.”
He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I’ll be gone for a while. You’ll be good with your Papa, all right?”
“Mm-hm.” Gwen reached up, and Ian pulled her into a tight hug. Closed his eyes, trying not to cry. He’d spent seven years with her. Didn’t know what he would do without his daughter.
“I’ll write to you, okay?” he said. “And then you can write back to me, too. Papa will teach you how.”
“Okay.” Gwen kissed his cheek. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too,” he said, his throat closing.
Ian combed his fingers through Gwen’s hair, breathing in her clean soap scent. She was tiny against him, strong and fragile at the same time. He was proud of her, and he’d probably miss her just as much as he’d miss Brad.
June closed the car door, stepping over. “You okay? I’ve got your things in a box.”
When Ian looked up, he found June still in her lab coat, her eyes sad. “You should be happier about your promotion,” Ian said.
“Not when it happened this way.” June forced a smile. “That wasn’t fair, Ian. I’m sorry.”
Ian sighed. “I don’t blame you, you know. You were just doing what Harold asked.”
June pursed her lips, her eyes wistful. “I wish I could go back and say everything differently.”
“Don’t we all?”
“That’s the second professor I’ve seen leave. It shouldn’t keep happening.”
“We shouldn’t keep falling in love.” Ian sighed. “That would really help.”
“Are you staying in Meadowfall?” June asked.
Ian hesitated. He hadn’t thought about it yet. “Maybe. I’ll see where I can find something. If I can’t, I’ll try Highton.”
“When will you be back?” Gwen asked, looking up at him with those doe eyes.
Ian gulped. “Soon. Maybe in a few months.”
Gwen pouted. “That’s too long!”
“I know, and I’m sorry.” Ian pulled Gwen close. Thought about bringing her with him, except he couldn’t pay for anything she might need.
“Try the childcare,” June said. “Dale’s working
