Will & Patrick Meet the Mob (13 page)

“So you tested me.”

“And him.”

Will snarls. “If you wanted to test Patrick’s devotion, maybe you should’ve pulled the gun on me instead.”

Patrick’s blood runs cold and he shakes his head violently. “I vote no on that.”

Tony waves his hand. “Your doctor’s feelings were irrelevant. I wanted to know who he was to
you
. If you care for him, nothing else matters. He’s safe.”

“Funny, I don’t feel safe,” Patrick muses.

Will kicks him under the table again. “What would have happened if I didn’t love him?”

Tony measures Will carefully. “Then I’d have had valuable information to use one way or another. Either you would’ve asked for my help in undoing your mistake, or I would’ve had leverage to pursue other avenues that might interest me.”

“Like?”

“Like pressuring your doctor into working for me under threat of exposing the truth to the Molinaro family.” Tony shrugs like this is no big deal. “But since your marriage has turned out to be a love match, there’s nothing to worry about. I’ve already put pressure on him in a different way.”

“The Hammond lawsuit.”

“Oh, Missy. She’s so young.” Tony shakes his head sadly. “I’ve been working with her father in the trucking business for years. The whole family has reason to trust me.”

“To
need
you, more likely,” Eleanora throws in.

“Ma, please don’t get involved.”

“You’re the one who invited me to dinner.”

Will interrupts, “Dad, I want you to convince Missy to let that go.”

“Why?” Tony asks.

“I thought you wanted to be on better terms with me. I thought you said my happiness is all that matters.”

“But Patrick could be useful to me.” He sounds like a kid who doesn’t want his toy taken away, but Patrick has no interest in being Tony Molinaro’s toy, no matter how handsome his face is.

Will shakes his head, incredulous. “If you want to pave the way toward us having any kind of relationship, you’ve got to see how blackmailing my husband ruins that.”

Tony shrugs.

Will moves his hand from the back of Patrick’s chair to the nape of his neck. His palm is hot and slightly sweaty. “What’s more important to you? A relationship with me or getting what you want from Patrick?”

“Can’t a man have both?”

“No.” Will keeps his eyes focused on his father, his hand gripping Patrick’s neck a little tighter like he’s going to tug Patrick up from the table and make a break with him at any moment.

It’s safety. Protection. Patrick is warm from the inside out.

Tony seems to struggle for words a moment but finally says, “My love for you and your mother trumps everything else in my life. I’d give the world for you. You know that.”

“Actually, I don’t.” Will releases Patrick’s neck, and smirking, leans forward. “This is where you prove it to me, Dad.”

Tony flicks his eyes back and forth between Patrick and Will as a proud smile spreads over his face. “Meeting Dr. McCloud has made your balls drop, son.”

Patrick bites back a comment about Will’s balls. His shin is already sore from Will’s kicks.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just tired of being pushed around.”

“It’s about time.” Tony sounds genuinely pleased. “You’re turning out to be the man I always knew you were capable of.”

Eleanora catches Patrick’s eye. She nods like this is exactly what she expected to happen and everything is going to plan. He nods back, hoping she’s right.

Will brushes off Tony’s comments. “If you want to talk deals, let’s talk.” He jabs his finger against the table cloth. “But first, let me make it clear: as far as the Molinaro family is concerned? Patrick and I have been in love from the moment we met.”

“Of course,” Tony agrees. “To admit otherwise would be foolish.”

“Good.” Will nods. “So we understand each other.”

“We do.”

Eleanora sends Will a knowing glance and Patrick can see she knew what Will was going to say next from the start.

“Dad, whatever offer you’re going to make, we reject it outright.”

Patrick isn’t used to being spoken for, but Will is clearly on a mission, so he keeps his mouth shut.

Tony also says nothing, letting Will keep talking. “But I have an offer for you: take care of the Hammond problem, and one day in the future, when you’ve proven yourself to me, I’ll consider giving you another nanosecond of my consideration. Until then, I’ve had enough.”

Tony’s eyes gleam with pride as Will throws his napkin on the table, rises, and puts his hand out to Patrick. His grip is firm as he pulls Patrick from his seat. “Come on, baby. We’re done here.”

Will keeps Patrick’s hand in his all the way out the front door of the Tallgrass and halfway down the street to where his car is parked. “I have to get out the hotel. The bar’s too tempting right now.”

He realizes neither of them have their coats when they climb into his car. It’s been a super mild day, hopefully heralding an early spring, but Will reaches back for his high school leather bomber in the back seat that he keeps there just in case. He tosses it to Patrick, who pulls it on.

“Test yourself before we go anywhere,” Patrick orders. “I don’t think you ate enough of your dinner.”

“I’m fine.”

“Do it.”

Will keeps the car in park and pulls out his testing kit. His BG is a little high, actually, but nothing to be worried about yet. Since he didn’t eat his full dinner, it’s probably going to be just fine. “I’ve got frosting tubes in my kit and juice boxes in the glove compartment.”

Patrick snaps the glove compartment open and closes it again. “Not a delicatessen, but it’ll do. Better than having nothing in there like the last time I looked.”

Will flops his head back and scrubs at his face. “He makes me insane. My whole family does. Even Nonna is annoying when Tony is around.”

“But he has a heart of gold.”

Will snorts. “I want a drink so bad. I want ten drinks. I want to get drunk enough I forget I’m Will Patterson or Guglielmo Molinaro or a person at all.”

“I like Will Patterson. Guglielmo is pretty cool too. He just gave his dad what for and it was awesome.”

Will shakes his head, staring up at the dark car ceiling. “Do you ever wonder why you’re here?”

“I came because of the guilt trip. I stayed because of you.”

Will huffs a laugh, warmth flickering in his chest and then dying out. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess. You’d have been safer somewhere else. I’m sorry I got drunk in the bar that night, and I’m sorry I married you.”

“I married
you
. Remember? It was my genius idea.”

“Yeah, but I was drinking and—”

“Shut up.”

“I’m trying to tell you I’m sorry for messing up your life.”

Patrick shrugs. “Yeah, well, I’m telling you to shut up.”

“That’s pretty rude.”

“It’s established that I’m rude.”

Irritation flares. “You may have some autism thing happening, but you don’t get to be an asshole.”

Patrick turns in his seat, the bomber jacket big on his wiry frame. “What do you think it means that I’m on the autism spectrum?”

“That you’re rude and don’t have a filter? That you feel stuff differently? I don’t know.” Will looks over at him. “Why?”

“I am rude and filters are boring. But I feel things. I’m capable of the same feelings you are.” Patrick stares at Will. “I’m not that different from you.”

Will’s stomach tenses. “You’re pretty different, Patrick. It’s not an insult. It’s just facts.”

“Hmmph.” Patrick clicks the glove compartment open again and then shuts it. “I didn’t tell you about being on the autism spectrum so you can use it to discount me. I told you because I trust you.”

“You told me because it slipped out,” Will says, running a hand into his hair. He doesn’t want to argue, but he isn’t going to let Patrick run all over him either. He’s done with that. “You didn’t mean for me to know.”

“Exactly. Because it doesn’t change anything, but you act like it does. For you.”

Will reaches out. The leather of the bomber jacket is old and cracked from the weather, and it scrapes against his palm as he rubs a hand down Patrick’s shoulder. “It only changes things because it helps me understand you. I can put your behavior in this box labeled ‘autism’ and it’s okay. But sometimes your behavior isn’t okay, even if it’s in the box. Telling me to shut up, for example.”

“I’m not a box.”

Will smiles gently. “You’re Patrick.”

“I want you to forget what I told you.” Patrick’s fingers seem restless, and he runs them along the dash. “I’ve lived my whole life without this being used against me.”

Will hears the catch of fear in Patrick’s voice. “I’m not using it against you. You’re amazing. I like you. I like who you are and
how
you are. I’m telling you I don’t like it when you tell me to shut up.”

“Then say that.”

“Okay.”

Patrick nods, and a small amount of tension leaks from him, but his shoulders are still tight and he stares out the windscreen with a frown.

Will sighs. “You’ve been weird all evening, even before we went to dinner. Is everything okay?”

“I’ve got things on my mind.”

“You and me both.” Will’s fingers are cold, but the heat is coming on in the car. “I won’t mention the autism thing again.”

“Spectrum. There’s a difference. Like the difference between Type 1 and Type 2 diabetes. Like the difference between dogs and cats.”

“Got it.” Will’s never seen Patrick this touchy before. He wants to say the right thing, to oil this friction between them, so they can get back to the business of stressing out about how crappy Will’s family is. “I’m sorry. Don’t be angry, okay?”

“I’m sorry I told you to shut up.” The apology sounds foreign coming out of his mouth, like he’s not accustomed to the words. “Twice.”

“I don’t even remember what I was saying.”

“Good, because I didn’t like it.”

Will laughs. “Are we all right?”

“Yeah.” Patrick nods his head once in his “this is over” way that Will’s come to love and rely on. “We’re all right.”

Letting out a breath, Will puts his hands on the steering wheel. “Wanna get out town?”

“Calgon, take me away.”

“What?” Will cocks his head.

“Sometimes I hate being married to an infant.” He reaches over and squeezes Will’s knee.

“But the sexual stamina makes up for it, right?” Will puts the car into gear.

“It’s a bonus.”

Patrick’s smile smoothes the rough edges of their conversation, and Will drives out of Healing with Patrick’s hand on his knee.
 

The farmhouse is dark. It’s not incredibly late, but Uncle Kevin gets up with the rooster, and Grandma Betty is always in bed by eight. Will kills the headlights halfway down the drive and coasts quietly up to the barn.

“Really? Here?”

“C’mon. I’ll show you something I didn’t last time.”

Patrick hesitates before getting out. Will grabs his farm coat from the trunk, closing it gently so it doesn’t bang. He tugs Patrick by the hand toward the stable door.

Inside, it’s warm and smells of animals and hay. It’s the scent of home, and the best things about his childhood. It’s bright enough to see by the moon through the window and the low internal security lights. He guides a surprisingly quiet Patrick toward Manny’s stall. The memory of Christmas and the gift of his medical alert bracelet, which lays warm against his chafed wrist, is a sweet one, and he smiles. Letting go of Patrick’s hand, he pats Manny’s velvety nose as the horse sticks his head over the gate.

“I saw this last time.”

Will grins, turning to Patrick. “Yeah, I know. It’s quiet, huh?”

Rufus, Olivia’s dog, comes ambling out of a stall near the back, and Will puts out his hand to pet him.

“Why didn’t he bark?”

“He recognizes the sound of my car and our voices. He’s a working dog, though. He usually only barks at the horses.”

Patrick doesn’t bend down or offer his hand, holding himself back from Rufus like he has the last few times he’s met him.

“You don’t like dogs?”

Patrick shrugs. “Grew up in an apartment. No pets.”

“What about at Dinah’s?”

Patrick tentatively puts his hand out. Rufus sniffs it and then walks away. “Dinah and Phil kept kids, not animals.”

“He’s a good boy.” Will watches him go back to sleep in his stall. “Olivia’s put old blankets out there for him, and he has a nice nest for himself.” The sound of horses huffing curiously at the nighttime intrusion breaks the thick silence. “Would you ever want a dog?”

Patrick’s eyes glow in the darkness. “Yes.”

Will grins. “Cool. C’mon, this is what I wanted to show you.” Will positions the ladder up to the hayloft, slings his murse over his shoulder, and starts to climb. “I love it up here at night.”

Patrick looks wary but follows without protest. Will has to pull Patrick the last little bit up the ladder, catching him with an
oomph
when Patrick loses his balance. They settle down on a couple of horse blankets someone has left spread out, sitting side by side in silence with their backs against a stack of hay bales. Dust motes swirl, and pieces of hay drift down to the floor of the barn below. Across from them is a window with a view of the moon and stars.

“It’s peaceful, huh?” Will says.

Patrick grunts in agreement. “And you stop noticing the smell after a while.”

Will chuckles. “That’s because of the window. The heat rises and pulls the odors up too. Keeps the ventilation good for the horses, so they don’t get lung problems in the winter.”

Patrick slides closer so they’re touching shoulder, hip, and thigh.

“Are you cold?” Will asks.

“It’s warm enough.”

They sit in silence as Will remembers all the times he’s been in this hayloft over the years. He’d played up here as a kid and jerked off up here as a teenager. A lot. “This is one of my favorite places in the world. I used to imagine…um, y’know what, never mind.” He looks away.

“What?”

Will shakes his head.

“Tell me.”

“I already told you.”

“Ah, yes. The barn fantasy.”

Will swallows, his cock fattening in his pants as blood rushes down. He can’t be born to a different family. He can’t drink. But he can have this. Sex with Patrick, who is always so good to him and for him. He can have it here and now and forget about everything else. He twirls a loose piece of straw in his hands, letting the moment drag out, letting Patrick decide to make the move.

Patrick nudges Will with his shoulder. “Undo your pants.”

Will hesitates. It’s unlikely they’ll be disturbed, but they’re in his uncle’s barn. It’s still possible.

“Come on,” Patrick says, leaning in to kiss Will’s neck. “I’ll make your dreams come true.” Patrick stands and grabs a couple more blankets from where they’re stashed against a wooden beam, and he spreads them on the floor to make a thicker mat.

“I don’t know about this, Patrick.” But Will’s cock is already hard, pressing in an obvious bulge against the front of his pants.

Patrick smirks and pulls Will up to his knees. He strokes his hand through Will’s hair, again and again, soothing and rhythmic as Will shudders and leans his cheek against Patrick’s thigh.

“Are you gonna spank me?”

“Yes.”

He squirms and pushes his face against the hard line of Patrick’s cock. “And then fuck me?”

Patrick hisses. “Yes.”

A hurt little sound escapes him, desire roaring in his veins. “Green.”

Patrick drops to his knees and kisses Will, his mouth tasting of the stick of peppermint he’d found in the pocket of Will’s bomber jacket. Will moans into it. Patrick starts on Will’s pants, getting them down and off, and then he pulls his own down to just below his hips. Will feels silly with just shirt, coat, and socks on, but his cock is rock hard, and he’s already leaking pre-come as he gets into position across Patrick’s thighs.

“Wait, kneel up.”

Will does as he’s told, his dick aching in the cool barn air. He gazes into Patrick’s eyes, visible in the moonlight, and waits.

Patrick runs his hand through Will’s hair again. “I forgot part of your fantasy.” He strokes his fingers over Will’s scalp, gazes into his eyes, and says firmly, “I love you.”

Will shivers, his cock flexing, and he whimpers as he collapses across Patrick’s legs again, his ass up and his mind flying. He stifles his cry as Patrick’s palm comes down on his butt cheek, his asshole clenching, and his heart aching that Patrick had remembered that important, urgent detail.