Chapter 4: The Mansion

(Before the present)

The first Sunday dinner after the wedding was the worst.

Sebastian showed up late on purpose. He parked his old truck next to Julian's new car, the one Richard had bought him as a graduation gift, and sat there for a full minute before getting out. The mansion loomed above him, all stone and glass and money. He hated it. He hated the way it made him feel small.

His mother answered the door. She was wearing a dress he had never seen before, something expensive, and her hair was done up in a way that made her look like a stranger.

"You are late," she said, but she was smiling.

"Traffic."

She kissed his cheek and pulled him inside. The house smelled like pot roast and flowers. Sebastian followed her to the dining room, where Richard was already sitting at the head of the table, a glass of wine in his hand.

"Sebastian. Good of you to join us."

Richard's voice was smooth, the way it always was. He never raised it. He never had to.

"Sorry," Sebastian said. He did not mean it.

He sat down across from Julian. Julian was wearing a simple grey sweater, his dark hair falling across his forehead. He did not look up when Sebastian sat down. He just stared at his plate, pushing food around with his fork.

The meal was quiet. Richard asked Sebastian about hockey, about his plans for the season, about whether he had thought about college as a backup. Sebastian gave short answers. His mother tried to fill the silence with stories about the neighbors, about the garden, about anything she could think of.

Julian did not say a word.

After dinner, Sebastian helped his mother clear the dishes. In the kitchen, she put a hand on his arm.

"Please try," she said. "For me."

"I am trying."

"You are not. You are sitting there like you want to be anywhere else."

"Because I do."

She sighed, let go of his arm, and went back to the dining room. Sebastian stayed in the kitchen for a moment, leaning against the counter, staring at the floor.

When he finally went back, Julian was gone.

---

Sebastian found him on the back porch.

Julian was sitting on the steps, looking out at the pool. The water was still, reflecting the lights from the house. The sky was dark, the stars just starting to come out.

"You always disappear," Sebastian said, stepping outside.

Julian did not turn around. "You always notice."

Sebastian sat down on the steps beside him. Not close. Just close enough.

"You do not like those dinners either," Sebastian said.

"Does anyone?"

"Your father seems to."

Julian laughed. It was a short sound, empty. "My father likes control. The dinners are just a way for him to exercise it."

Sebastian looked at Julian's profile. The sharp line of his jaw, the way his hair fell across his forehead. He had never been this close to Julian before, not since the wedding. He noticed things he had not noticed before. The small scar above his eyebrow. The way his hands were shaking, just a little.

"Why do you stay?" Sebastian asked. "You could leave. You are old enough."

Julian turned his head, looked at him. His eyes were dark, tired. "And go where? He pays for everything. My apartment, my car, my training. I am trapped, Sebastian. Same as you."

"I am not trapped."

"No? Then why are you here? Why do you keep coming back?"

Sebastian did not have an answer. He sat there, staring at the pool, listening to the quiet.

"I do not know," he said finally. "Maybe because my mom asks me to."

"Your mom asks you to. And that is enough?"

"It has to be."

Julian nodded slowly. He turned back to the pool, and they sat in silence for a long time. The night got colder. The stars got brighter.

Finally, Julian stood up. "Goodnight, Sebastian."

"Goodnight."

Sebastian watched him walk back into the house. He did not follow. He sat on the steps for a while longer, trying to understand why his chest felt so tight.

---

The Sunday dinners became a routine.

Sebastian came every week, mostly for his mother. He sat at the long table, ate food he could not afford, and listened to Richard talk about money and success and the importance of having a real career. His mother smiled and nodded. Julian said almost nothing.

But Sebastian started watching Julian. He could not help it. He watched the way Julian held himself, the way his eyes moved around the room, the way he seemed to be waiting for something. He watched the way Julian's hands trembled when Richard spoke to him. He watched the way Julian's face went blank when his father asked about his hockey career, about his plans, about whether he had thought about business school.

Sebastian told himself he was just curious. That was all. Julian was strange, quiet, different from the rest of the family. It was natural to be curious.

But it was not curiosity. It was something else. Something Sebastian did not have a name for.

---

One night, after dinner, Sebastian went looking for a bathroom and found Julian's room instead.

The door was open. Julian was sitting on the bed, a book in his hands. He looked up when Sebastian appeared, but he did not seem surprised.

"Bathroom is down the hall," Julian said.

"I know."

Sebastian stood in the doorway, looking around. The room was small, plain. A bed, a desk, a window. No posters on the walls. No trophies. No pictures. Just white walls and grey sheets and a single lamp on the nightstand.

"Can I come in?" Sebastian asked.

Julian raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I do not know. Just to talk."

Julian set down his book. He looked at Sebastian for a long moment, like he was trying to figure something out. Then he nodded.

Sebastian walked in and sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress was firm, the sheets cool. Julian sat across from him, his back against the headboard, his legs stretched out.

"Why do you not have anything on the walls?" Sebastian asked.

"Because nothing here is mine."

"It is your room."

"It is his room. He just lets me sleep in it."

Sebastian looked at Julian's face, at the way his jaw was set, at the tiredness in his eyes. "He treats you like that. Your father."

"He treats everyone like that. You have seen it."

"Yeah. But you are his son. He is supposed to be different with you."

Julian laughed again, that empty sound. "He is not different with anyone. He does not know how."

They sat in silence for a moment. Sebastian could hear the clock ticking on the wall, the sound of the house settling around them.

"Why are you here, Sebastian?" Julian asked. "You do not like me. You have made that clear."

Sebastian shrugged. "I do not know. Maybe I am trying to figure you out."

"Figure me out?"

"Yeah. You are not like him. You are not like the rest of them. You sit at that table and you do not say anything, but I can see you thinking. I can see you watching."

Julian's face softened, just a little. "Maybe I am watching you too."

Something shifted in the air between them. Sebastian felt it, the way you feel a storm coming. His heart was beating faster, his palms were sweating. He did not understand it. He did not want to understand it.

He stood up. "I should go."

Julian nodded. "Goodnight, Sebastian."

"Goodnight."

Sebastian walked out of the room. He did not look back. But he felt Julian's eyes on him all the way down the hall.

---

(The present)

The years passed.

Sebastian made the NHL. He moved to Vancouver, built a life away from the mansion. The Sunday dinners became less frequent. He told himself he was free. He told himself he did not think about Julian.

But he did. He thought about Julian all the time.

He thought about the way Julian had looked at him on the porch, saying someone should leave. He thought about the way Julian had sat on that bed, surrounded by nothing that was his. He thought about the way Julian had said maybe I am watching you too, and the way Sebastian's chest had tightened.

He did not understand it. He did not try to. He just lived his life, played his games, and pretended the hole in his memory was not there.

---

The trade announcement changed everything.

Sebastian was in the locker room when he saw it on the TV. Julian Frost traded to Calgary Snow Wolves. His heart stopped. He did not know why. Julian was his stepbrother, a stranger, someone he had not seen in years. It should not have mattered.

But it did. It mattered more than anything.

He stared at the screen, at Julian's face, at the highlight reel of his goals. He thought about the last Sunday dinner, months ago. Julian had been quieter than usual. His knee had been wrapped under his jeans, but Sebastian had noticed the way he limped. He had almost said something. Almost asked if Julian was okay.

He had not. He had just eaten his dinner and driven home and pretended he did not care.

Now Julian was gone. Traded to another city. Another team. Another life.

Sebastian sat in the locker room long after the other players had left. He stared at the wall and tried to figure out why he felt like something had been ripped out of his chest.

That night, he went home and opened his nightstand drawer. There, folded carefully, was the piece of paper Julian had given him at the wedding.

Julian. I hope you call.

Sebastian picked up his phone. He stared at the blank screen for a long time.

He did not call.

But he did not throw the paper away either.