Chapter 15
The sedan crunched up the gravel driveway of Arthur’s modest, single-story house, coming to a gentle stop near the weathered wooden porch where a single yellow bug light still flickered in the dawn. Julian killed the engine, stepping out into the brisk morning air and walking around to help his father out of the car. Arthur stepped carefully onto the pavement, leaning on Julian’s arm for just a brief moment before walking up the three wooden steps to the front door. He pulled a heavy brass key from his pocket, inserting it into the lock with a familiar, practiced motion. Before opening the door, Arthur turned back to look at his son, standing under the amber porch light in his white dress shirt and dark trousers, looking more like himself than he had in years. "You need to come inside and get some real sleep, Jules," Arthur said softly, his voice steady and warm. Julian smiled, shaking his head slightly as he looked out across the quiet neighborhood where the neighbors were just beginning to wake up. "I think I'll head home, Dad," Julian said, his voice carrying a quiet, unshakable resolve. "My real home." Arthur nodded slowly, a deep, knowing smile settling into the lines of his face. He pushed the front door open, stepping inside his house before turning back one last time. "Drive safe, son. And bring your appetite Sunday. We’re having pot roast." Julian stood on the porch for a moment longer, watching the door click shut, knowing that whatever came next, he would never hide who he was—or who raised him—ever again.
