Page 105 of Julian

“I agree.”

“And honestly,” he continues while standing carefully, “if we’re really leaning into the movie montage vibe, we should go buy roasted chestnuts after this.”

I laugh as I stand beside him and put down my cup. “You are something else.”

“Thank you.”

The second we step onto the ice, it’s like I’m a kid again.

I glance over at Dylan as we glide slowly beneath the lights. “What?”

He shrugs at first, eyes fixed ahead of us toward the skyline. Then finally he says, “I’m really happy for you, Harper.”

The sincerity in his voice is unusual for a kid his age with all he’s dealt with.

I smile faintly. “Thanks, Dylan.”

“No, I mean it.” He slows slightly beside me, his expression serious now. “Not just because of the job.”

I look at him, meeting his eyes.

“It’s everything,” he says. “The job. Julian. All of it.”

I look away briefly, watching snow gather along the edge of the rink while skaters move around us in blurred streaks of scarves and winter coats.

“You deserve this stuff,” Dylan continues. “Like… all of it.”

“That’s a very dramatic thing for a seventeen-year-old to say.”

“I’m serious.”

There’s no sarcasm in his face now. Only love.

“I know you don’t really think about yourself that much,” he says. “You never have.”

“Dylan—”

“No, listen.” He exhales visibly into the cold air. “Being back with Mom and Marley over Christmas kind of made me realize something.”

I stay quiet.

“You really are my mom,” he says, almost a confession. “I mean, not literally obviously, but… you raised me. You’re the one who made sure I had food and homework done and you paid attention to me all those years. And now that I’m older, I get how hard that must’ve been.”

Around us, people laugh and skate and the rink music continues.

“I know how much you gave up for me,” he says quietly. “I’m not stupid.”

“Come on, it was fun. It’s not like raising you ruined my life,” I say.

“I know, I know,” he replies. “But it made your life harder. I know that for sure. No older sister signs up to be a mother for her kid brother.”

We skate another few feet slowly before he looks over at me again.

“But you still did it,” he says. “You still chose me every single time. I’m so grateful for you, Harper.”

The smallest hint of a tear stings my eyes as my mascara threatens to run down my face, and I look away before he can see it.

“You make it worth it. You have from day one, Dylan,” I whisper. And it’s the most truthful thing I’ve ever said.