Will & Patrick Meet the Mob (4 page)

“Not alone. I want to be there.”

“Oh, but it’s okay if you run into him while you’re out seeing ‘people’ and doing ‘things’?”

Patrick pinches the bridge of his nose. “Being your husband has a real downside sometimes.”

“Look, he’s not going to hurt me. He’s my father.”

Patrick’s eyes blaze. “I don’t trust him with you. With me, fine, whatever. But not with you.”

Will cocks his head, examining Patrick. Is there more to Patrick’s investment in him than lust, friendship, and self-preservation?

Don’t be ridiculous.

He can’t kid himself. Admitting to friendship and basic human caring is almost more than Patrick can handle. Remember his panic attack from last night? Wanting more isn’t fair to Patrick. He’s already giving more than he knows how to give.

“It’s sweet that you want to protect me.” Will crosses the room and touches Patrick’s arm. “But I’m not a damsel in distress either.”

Patrick’s lips quirk up. “No, you just like to play one in sexy, kinky scenes.”

Will bites his lip, the tips of his ears going hot. “Yeah. I do.”

“I wish I didn’t have places to go and people to see. I’d make you beg for help.”

“Can you cancel?”

“No.” Patrick touches Will’s chin tenderly. “Rain check.”

Will wants to kiss him and whisper something sweet in his ear. He wants to feel Patrick melt against him and confess that Will makes him dizzy with affection too.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll arrange to meet my dad at the Meadowlands for dinner tomorrow night. You can come too. Let him check you out with me by your side.”

Patrick nods.

“I’ll text him now.” Will grabs his phone off the nightstand. There are three texts from his mother demanding to know why he didn’t call her from the hospital the night before, several from Owen at Good Works with both personal and professional concerns Will needs to deal with, and a message from an unknown number.

Son, I’d like to see you and your doctor again. No more jokes. Name a time and place.

“Looks like Dad has the same idea.” He texts Tony back with his suggestion. It seems early for Tony to be awake—for some reason he imagines his father as a creature of the night—but he gets a quick reply.

I’ll be there.

“It’s all set up.”

“Yay.” Patrick rolls his eyes, checking his messages on his phone. “Dinah sends her regards.”

“You told her about me?”

“Yep. Told her I’d married a hot rich guy in Vegas. She wasn’t impressed.” Patrick shrugs.

“She thinks we’re in love?”

Patrick goes still and then tosses his phone in the bag before grabbing his coat. “That’s the story. I’m sticking to it.”

Will watches him with a fuzzy, itchy feeling in his head. It’s like rough wool on his brain.

What if it’s not a story?
What if we could love each other for real?

But they’ve agreed not to talk about feelings, and they’ve agreed they’re getting divorced. The confusion from the night before rears its head again. His chest hurts and he rubs his breastbone with his fist.

If their relationship had begun in a different way, if Patrick wasn’t afraid of love, and if he felt half the tenderness Will feels when he’s trembling in Patrick’s arms, coming down from orgasm, then maybe… But those are huge ifs, and he can’t let himself dream a future based on them. He “if only”-ed his entire relationship with Ryan and it nearly cost him everything.

Eventually he won’t be satisfied with his and Patrick’s friends-with-benefits arrangement. In a future he can almost make out on the horizon, he wants to be a dad and have a family. He’ll need to build a life with someone who wants those things too. And Patrick’s not interested in love and family. Right? Will’s pretty sure he said as much. More than once.

One day, Patrick will move out of the Tallgrass and Will can stay or go too. He’ll date other men, test the waters, and sample other fish in the sea. His heart trips against his ribs. It’s exciting and terrifying, but the thought also leaves him with a sense of loss he can’t explain. But Patrick will be there for him if he needs to come back to shore. Won’t he? They’re friends, right?

Patrick sits on the bed next to him, pulling on his boots. “You look sick.”

“Just thinking.”

Patrick takes hold of Will’s chin, running his thumb over the dimple. “Should you test again?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Hmm.” He goes back to lacing up his boots.

Will tries to shake off the weight that’s settled on him while thinking of their separate futures. “So really, where are you going? You can’t go cavorting around Healing right now until we know more about what my dad’s after.”

“Jenny’s.”

“Oh? She’s been released?”

“Yep.”

Will won’t tell Patrick not to go see Jenny. She could use the company, and Patrick could too, probably. But maybe there’s another solution. “Mind if I tag along? I’d like to see her too.”

“I thought you needed to get to Good Works sooner rather than later?”

“Seeing a sick friend is a good reason to be late.”

Clearly not falling for it, Patrick gives Will a knowing look, but says, “Fine.” He grabs his bag, and then pointedly shoves Will’s murse into his arms.

“I was going to take it.”

Patrick raises his eyebrow.

There are plenty of things that will drive them apart eventually, but that’s someday. Will doesn’t want diabetes putting in a wedge now. “Are you going to forgive me for last night?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

Patrick nods once. “Now.”

“Okay then.” Will slings his murse over his shoulder and grabs his keys. “Want to swing by Brown Gargle first?”

Together they leave the safety of their hotel room and head out into the unknown. Stepping onto the snow-dusted sidewalk, Will slings his arm around Patrick’s shoulder protectively. “Today’s going to be a better day. You’ll see.”

“Now you’ve jinxed it.”

But Patrick doesn’t throw his arm off and, if anything, seems to nestle in against Will’s side. They walk like that all the way to Brown Gargle.

Patrick doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s uncomfortably grateful for Will’s company on the walk to Jenny’s apartment. The rapid-fire succession of emotional traumas—confessing the truth of Mr. Roland, being put on leave from the hospital due to the Hammond suit, and then ending up on his knees with a gun to his head—has left him feeling like the gangly, raw kid who cried in Dinah’s arms years ago.

It’s not a good feeling.

In Jenny’s apartment building, Patrick presses the elevator up to the fifth floor. Will sips his coffee and watches the numbers overhead, seemingly oblivious to Patrick’s internal wrangling, or maybe lost in wrangling of his own.

“This is a nice building. I wanted to move in here, but Ryan—” Will wrinkles his nose. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.”

“Nope. It doesn’t.”

“Yeah.” Will’s face flickers but he covers it with a smile. “Wonder if Jenny got the two or three-bedroom unit?”

“Two,” Patrick says.

“You’ve been here before?”

“Once. She wanted me to see her new couch.”

“And what’d you think?”

“It’s a couch.” Patrick shrugs. “It’s brown.”

Friends do weird things like that. He knows because he’s seen it on TV and he’s heard other people talk about doing things like going to a pal’s house to meet their new dog or give their opinion about curtains. He doesn’t get why other people care what their friends think about their dogs or curtains, but he’s willing to put in some effort for Jenny and Will’s sake. Sometimes.

Because the day is determined to prove Will’s optimistic prediction from earlier wrong, Andy Sicko is the face Patrick sees when Jenny’s door opens.

“Good morning!” Andy says, greeting them both with a wide smile and attempts at hugs. Patrick ducks out of it, but Will submits like it’s no big deal. The last thing Patrick wants after the last few days is to feel Andy’s blond ’fro on his skin.

Releasing Will, Andy directs them into the short hall that serves as the entryway. “Come in. Let me take your coats.”

“We weren’t expecting to see you here,” Will says, handing over his scarf, gloves, and empty coffee cup before unbuttoning his coat. Patrick follows suit.

“Just visiting.”

“Where’s Jenny?” Patrick asks. She’s the only reason he’s here and he’d like to see her smile right about now.

“Buttercup’s in the living room, settled in on the sofa. Her mom and Dylan went out for a little walk and I was keeping her company while they’re away.”

Shoes, both Jenny-sized and baby-sized, are piled beneath the full coatrack, and Patrick and Will are directed to add their boots to the mess.

“Dylan’s crawling everywhere. Keeps the floor cleaner,” Sicko says. “Jenny’s mom’s orders!”

As they unlace their boots, Patrick ducks his head round the corner to make out Jenny’s blond hair against her new brown-leather sofa.

Andy puts on galoshes with suns and flamingos on them. Patrick isn’t a fashionista by any stretch, but he’s sure those things should be burned. “Now that you guys are here, I’m just going to head out. I need to get back to the diner.”

“We can take over, sure,” Will says. “No problem.”

Andy smiles and does a little dance for joy. Patrick hates him. “You’re the best, Will.” He winks. “It’s not hard. Just fetch and get for her. Don’t let her lift anything heavier than a bag of sugar.”

“Got it.” Will smiles, tossing his boots into the pile. He squeezes Patrick’s arm. “You okay?”

“Great.”

Andy tilts his head curiously at the question. Patrick’s not going to give away that seeing Andy unnerves him. He’s stronger than that. His fingers slip on the knots in his laces and he sits on the floor. “Go on. I’ll be a minute.”

Will smiles gently and nods, heading into the living room. Jenny’s squeal makes Patrick’s ears hurt. “Will Patterson, you better have brought your husband.”

“Oh, he’s here. Just having trouble getting his bootlaces untied. He’s slow for a genius.”

Sicko laughs and Patrick almost throws his boot at him as he gets it off. But he restrains himself, standing up and dusting off his butt.

“Hold up,” Sicko says, gripping Patrick’s arm. “You took good care of Dylan and you’ve been a good friend to Buttercup. I’m still suspicious of how your marriage to Will began, but at this point I’m willing to concede you’re not an asshole.”

“What are you talking about? Of course I am.” Patrick jerks free, offended by Andy Sicko’s attempt to be friendly.

Andy buttons up his jacket, waving his hand toward the living room. “I’ve known Will for years, since before he came out, and he’s never been as confident or as sure of himself as he’s been since New Year’s Eve.” The material of Andy’s slick down coat makes a sickening rubbing noise as he moves, throwing his arm around Patrick’s shoulder. “So, thank you. I don’t know why he likes you, or what you do for him, but keep on doing it. He’s happy.”

Patrick shudders and pushes Andy’s arm away. Andy doesn’t notice, putting his hands on Patrick’s shoulders like he’s going to pull him in for a hug. Patrick grits out, “Don’t. Touch. Me.” 

Andy pulls his hands back and rolls his eyes. “I was just trying to be nice.”

Patrick takes a deep breath, the uneasiness from Andy’s unsolicited grope clinging to him. “I don’t want you to be nice. I want you to go away.”

“And lucky for you, I am.” Andy ducks his head around the corner into the living room. “I have to get back, Buttercup. They’ve probably burned the place down without me. I’ll stop by later with dinner for you and your mom.”

“Thanks, Andy! You’re my hero!”

“One last thing,” Sicko says to Patrick as he wraps a vulgar yellow scarf around his neck. “I know we won’t ever be friends, but you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

Patrick shakes his head. “I can’t apologize to you.”

“Okay?”

“Because you—you’re… Listen, your diner doesn’t suck.” Patrick clears his throat and his fingers tap wildly against his thigh. “And it’s not your fault I don’t like you.”

“So what does that mean?”

“It means it’s my problem. I’ll deal with it.”

Andy shakes his head. “Whatever, Dr. Asshole. I’ll see you around.”

The door bangs behind Andy and Patrick considers giving up on visiting with Jenny and the super-secret mission he’s planned for after he manages to shake Will. He can head right on back to the Tallgrass. He can shower the violation of Sicko’s touch away.

“Patrick? Do you need help out there?” Jenny’s voice is impatiently amused.

He takes a deep, cleansing breath, and walks around the corner into the living room. Will’s sitting in the rocking chair next to the couch where Jenny’s ensconced on a half-dozen pillows.

Patrick drops into the empty spot next to her and takes hold of her chin. “You look pale. A little red in the eyes. Bloated. But otherwise healthy enough.”

“Always a charmer.” Jenny’s smile tugs one out of him too, and he lets her pull him in for a hug.

Once she releases him, he moves to the opposite end of the sofa, picks up her feet and lets them fall into his lap, rubbing her arches and heels. “So, tell me the score. What’s the nephrologist say about your generous donation? Is Radar’s transplant going to be successful?”

Will rocks gently, the chair squeaking, as Patrick kneads Jenny’s cold toes. She rambles on about the surgery.

“All good then,” Patrick interrupts once he gets bored of listening to what he already knows.

“Yes. Mostly.”

“What’s not good?” Patrick examines her face for any indication of declined kidney function. “The bloating could be—”

“My mom is driving me nuts,” Jenny moans, throwing her head back and cutting him off. “I can’t deal with it anymore.”

Patrick flicks a glance at Will and smirks. “I hear moms do that.”

“Yeah, but I feel like a jerk saying anything because, of course, I can’t do this without her. I can’t even pick up Dylan. And really, she’s been pretty great. Except when she’s been
so annoying
!”

Will asks, “Where’s she sleeping? In a guest room?”

“No. There’s just my room and the nursery here, so, she’s sleeping on the sofa. I know! I’m an awful person to complain about anything she says or does. I owe her a lot.” Jenny picks up a pillow and smothers herself with it, groaning. “But she’s so aggravating!”

“I feel you,” Will says softly, a wry smile on his face, and Patrick lifts his brows at him.

As far as Patrick’s concerned, Will’s won the aggravating mother lottery.

Will shakes his head. “Moms, man. Moms.” He and Jenny fist-bump. “What’s she doing?”

Jenny puts her hair up in a sloppy ponytail. “She keeps asking me about Jax.”

“And what about Jax?” Patrick waggles his brows. “I saw him in the waiting room at the hospital all glassy-eyed and miserable over you.”

“Oh God, don’t remind me.”

“Why? Your honey must be yummy because Jax has it bad.”

Jenny rolls her eyes and affects a bumpkin accent. “Well, my honey might be yummy, but it’s plum gone dry.” She sighs. “I don’t know what to do with him. He keeps calling and coming around. He keeps trying to be helpful.”

“What a jerk.” Patrick makes a face.

“Don’t make fun of me. Do you know the worst thing? My mother even likes him!”

“He’s a witch.” Patrick nods solemnly. “Burn him at the stake.”

Jenny rolls her eyes. “Mom hated Tom, but Jax? Oh, yes. Jax she loves.”

Patrick isn’t seeing her point. “Tom left you pregnant and alone. Jax held your mommy’s hand while you got cut wide open.”

Jenny ignores him. “She actually told me this was my last chance to get married. My last chance! Because I’m about to expire, you know!”

“Huh.” Patrick frowns. “I don’t see a sell-by-date on your foot.”

Will chuckles and rocks back farther, his face flushing with amusement. Patrick loves that. Ugh. And he hates how much he loves it.

Jenny’s still ranting. “I told her
she
just wants me to make some legitimate babies.”

“You and Jax would have pretty babies,” Will murmurs and smiles sympathetically.

“That is not a good enough reason to marry a guy,” Jenny exclaims. “And I don’t even know if that’s what he wants from me. He’s so young.”

“But he’s so hot,” Will says with a snide smirk at Patrick.

Jenny tosses up her hands. “That’s the whole problem. He’s young and gorgeous and has his whole life ahead of him. What on earth would he want with Dylan and me? It’s just not realistic.”

Patrick bristles. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“You have a lot to offer,” Will adds.

“I
did
have a lot to offer, sure, when the ‘honey’ was running sweet and free. But I can’t have sex for at least a month! Maybe longer!”

“Will meant
you
have a lot to offer, not your vagina.”

Patrick is going to create a phone app called “You’re amazing because Patrick likes you” and install it on Will and Jenny’s phones. It’ll send them regular alerts that read:
Stop being stupid. You’re awesome. The amazing, world-renowned genius, Patrick McCloud, likes you. For the love of macaroni, that’s an endorsement almost no one gets. Be proud.
It’s a long message, but he thinks it captures what’s important.

She lets out a quick breath. “I just had a kidney out! I look like hell! You even said I’m bloated! But he keeps coming around and texting and trying to FaceTime. What can he see in me?”

“A smart, funny, vibrant woman who holds her own in the world,” Will says. “The same thing we see.”

“Really?”

“And he does see vagina. He likes vagina.” Patrick makes hand gestures to illustrate what Jax probably enjoys doing with the body part in question. “And yours isn’t broken forever.”

Will lifts a brow. “Patrick, really?”

“Stop talking about my vagina!” Jenny laughs. “God!”

“You know, I admire Jax,” Will says. “He’s found someone amazing and he’s not afraid to go after her. That takes guts.”

Patrick’s heart thumps, and he stares at Will’s earnest expression.

Will reaches out and touches Jenny’s arm. “I understand why you’re worried about the age difference, but break his heart gently, okay? He’s a good guy.”

“Or don’t break his heart at all,” Patrick says quickly. “Your choice.”

“Thanks, guys.” Jenny smiles. “I feel like I have so much to lose.”

“You do.” Patrick remembers the cold steel against his temple and the snow on his face. “You have everything to lose. Either one of you can be snuffed out just like that.” He snaps his fingers. “Why worry about how old he is or what he wants? Why not let this happen?”

Will clears his throat. “Patrick…”

“What? Less than twenty-four hours ago I was on my knees with a gun to my head. Damned if I’m not feeling a little
carpe diem
today.”

He’d
carpe diem
his love for Will right now if he could. He’d tell him, “I love you,” and ask him if there was any way in the world he could ever love him back. But not with Jenny here. He might be socially incompetent but even he’s watched enough romantic movies to know when love’s declared for the first time it should be one-on-one and preferably someplace romantic. Whatever “romantic” is to Will.