Chapter 180
Elena: POV
I stared at Julian, my carry-on feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds in my suddenly numb hand. Lila's warm fingers slipped from my grasp as she reached for him with that heartbreaking trust only children possess, the kind that hasn't yet learned the world can be cruel.
"I know if I say this is a coincidence, you won't believe me," Julian said again, his voice rougher this time, like he'd been rehearsing the words but they still came out wrong. "So I'll just be honest. I'm here to go back with you."
The fluorescent lights of JFK seemed too bright, the announcements echoing overhead too loud.
I watched Lila's small hand curl around Julian's much larger one, watched the way his entire face transformed—softened in a way I'd never seen, not even in the fragments of memory that sometimes surfaced like drowning victims coming up for air.
"You tracked us," I said flatly. Not a question. The anger I should have felt was somewhere distant, buried under layers of exhaustion and the lingering vertigo from discovering Alexander had built our entire life on lies. "Again."
"Yeah." No shame in his voice, just that terrible certainty he always carried, like he was bracing for me to hit him but wouldn't stop me if I did. "I wasn't about to let you and Lila travel alone.”
Not when someone tried to drug me and drag me into a van less than forty-eight hours ago. The words hung unspoken between us, heavy as stones.
"You're shameless," I said, and this time there was heat in it, anger finally breaking through the numbness. "You think you have any right to—"
"Sad uncle!" Lila's delighted squeal cut through my building fury. She was already tugging on his hand, bouncing on her toes in that way she did when she was excited about something. "Did you come to surprise us?"
I watched Julian's throat work as he swallowed, watched him crouch down to her level with a carefulness that made my chest ache. "Something like that, sweetheart," he said softly, and God, the tenderness in his voice when he looked at her—like she was made of spun glass and starlight, like she was the most precious thing he'd ever touched.
I reached out and gently but firmly took her hand back from his. "Lila, sweetheart, we don't hold hands with strangers."
"But Mommy—" Her little face scrunched up in confusion, and I could see her trying to reconcile my words with the familiarity she felt. "The sad uncle isn't a stranger. We've seen him lots of times!"
Shit. Of course she remembered. The department store. The hospital. That awful scene in the cake shop where Alexander had nearly beaten him bloody. To her four-year-old mind, Julian was just another familiar face in the rotating cast of adults who populated her world, no different from the barista at our favorite café or the librarian who helped her pick out picture books.
"Lila—"
But Julian was already moving, bending down to scoop her up with an ease that made my stomach clench. She went willingly, wrapping her arms around his neck like it was the most natural thing in the world, and I watched something crack open in his expression—something raw and desperate and so full of love it hurt to look at.
And the way he held her—God, the way he held her. Like she was made of spun glass and starlight. Like she was the most precious thing he'd ever touched.
His hand cradled the back of her head with a gentleness I'd never seen from him before, and his entire body curved protectively around her small frame, as if he could shield her from every hurt the world might throw at her.
"You—" I started forward, panic and fury warring in my chest, but Julian turned to face me and I saw it then—the fierce, almost desperate tenderness in his eyes as he looked down at Lila.
She was playing with his collar now, chattering about something I couldn't hear over the blood rushing in my ears, and he was listening like every word mattered.
"I know where you're going," he said quietly, his voice pitched low enough that only I could hear over Lila's happy babbling. His thumb brushed absently against Lila's back in soothing circles, the gesture so automatic it looked like muscle memory. "I can take you there."
"I don't need you to take me anywhere," I said, but my voice came out weaker than I wanted. "I don't need anything from you."
He said, and the single word hit me like a punch to the gut. "Josephine's grave. That's where you're going, isn't it?"
How did he—
But of course he knew. Of course he'd figured it out. Julian Sterling didn't do anything halfway, and if he'd decided to insert himself back into my life, he'd have made damn sure he knew every move I was planning to make.
"That's none of your business," I said, reaching for Lila again. "Give her back. We have a connecting flight to catch."
"To Richmond," he continued as if I hadn't spoken, and there was something in his voice now—something that sounded almost like pleading. "And then what? You're going to rent a car and drive to some cemetery in the middle of nowhere with a four-year-old? Stay in a motel? Elena, it's not safe."
"Safer than being anywhere near you," I shot back, and watched him flinch like I'd slapped him.
But Lila was watching us now, her smile fading as she picked up on the tension crackling between us. Her little hand reached up to touch Julian's jaw, and I watched his expression crumble at the contact.
"Mommy sounds mad," she said in that too-observant way children have. "Are you fighting?"
"No, baby," I said automatically, forcing my voice to gentle even as my hands clenched into fists at my sides. "We're just talking."
"It sounds like fighting," she insisted, and then, to Julian: "Did you make Mommy sad? You look sad a lot. Are you always sad?"
I watched Julian's throat work as he swallowed hard, and when he spoke, his voice was rough. "Sometimes, sweetheart. But not right now. Right now I'm just happy to see you."
"Then why does Mommy look like she is mad?"
"I need to board," I said, proud of how steady my voice came out. "So if you'll just—"
"Let me come with you."
The words hung in the air between us, and I stared at him like he'd lost his mind.
"Absolutely not."
"Elena—"
"No." I stepped forward, reaching for Lila again. This time he let me take her, though I could see it cost him. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to show up and insert yourself into my life like you have any right to be here. I don't know you. I don't remember you. And even if I did—"
"If you did, you'd hate me," he finished, and there was something broken in his voice that made me pause. "I know. Believe me, I know exactly what I did to you, and I don't expect forgiveness. I don't expect anything. But Elena, please—" His voice cracked on my name. "Your mother is buried in a small cemetery outside Richmond." He stopped, jaw clenching. "Right before Alexander took you away.”