Hesitant Hearts

by Jerry Cole

  “Yeah, I did,” Isaac admitted. “But I was angry, and we both know, anger makes you do shitty things.”

  “Right,” Patrick said, scrubbing a hand over his face. He wanted to leave, to drown his sorrows. He forced himself to stay in Isaac’s apartment. “We didn’t communicate, Isaac. We ignored our problems and hoped for the best.”

  Isaac shrugged, sinking down onto his couch. “If I have to figure out why I didn’t tell you about Michael,” he said eventually, “then you have to think about why you were so quick to discount us as being more important than everyone else you’ve ever had.”

  That wasn’t–

  Patrick opened his mouth, closed it.

  “Please go,” Isaac said, covering his face with his hands.

  Patrick was outside the apartment, the door closed between them, before he’d even really thought about doing so. Resting his head against the wood, Patrick felt sick, could feel his hands shaking. Fuck, what the fuck was he supposed to do now?

  Fumbling for his phone, Patrick managed to thumb through to Natasha’s number. She picked up on the third ring, a quick, “What?”

  “Are you free right now?”

  Patrick didn’t want to know what he sounded like to have Natasha asking, in a soft and careful voice, what he needed.

  “I need you to pick me up from Isaac’s.”

  Natasha cursed, promised him she would be right there, and hung up. Patrick managed to shove his phone in his pocket, and stumble down the steps, back into the lobby of the building. He didn’t know how much time passed, but the next time he looked up, Natasha was coming through the doors, Jake and Sam in tow. They gave Patrick a look – Sam contemplating, Jake sympathetic – and disappeared up the stairs.

  “Natasha,” Patrick said, hating how choked up his voice sounded.

  “Hey,” Natasha said, leading him out of the building and toward her car. “You should have called someone.”

  “To have a conversation with my boyfriend?” Patrick snapped, and paused, breath hitching. “Ex-boyfriend. Whatever.”

  Natasha’s face shifted through a couple of expressions, apathy, frustration, but she settled on something he couldn’t define. Care, maybe. Something as close to love as they ever got. “Get in the car, Patrick. I’ll take you back to your apartment.”

  Breakups weren’t supposed to be that hard, were they?

  Guys were supposed to bounce back, get their shit on track quickly.

  It was bullshit and had been every time Patrick had someone that he cared about disappear. He leaned his head against the window of the car, tasting bile in the back of his throat, and trying to stem the urge to throw up. Natasha would definitely kill him for it, and even with as silent as she was being next to him, Patrick doubted she would maintain that if he soiled her car.

  “Did you both explain?” She asked eventually, as they pulled up outside Patrick’s building.

  Patrick didn’t say anything, wasn’t surprised when Natasha followed him up in the elevator. He had called her for a reason, after all. She busied herself with turning on the coffee maker, grabbing food out of the freezer. Patrick let her, dropping down onto the couch and covering his face with his hands, wanting to shut the world out for a while.

  Natasha didn’t let him for long; she dropped a plate of something onto the table. It was appetizing enough, but Patrick’s stomach rebelled at the thought of eating it.

  “Why was I so quick to discount everything we did?” Patrick asked, because Isaac’s words had been bouncing around his skull the whole drive. “I knew I was self-sabotaging and I did fuck all about it.”

  “Because that’s you,” Natasha said, too easily. She perched on the edge of the chair, cradling a mug of coffee in one hand, using the other to slide a mug for Patrick across the coffee table. “Eat, Patrick. You’ll thank me later.”

  Patrick doubted that, but he poked at the food, shoveling some of it. It didn’t taste great, but he forced himself to eat, to swallow it down. Eventually, Patrick shoved the plate away, most of the food still left, but his stomach making it clear he probably shouldn’t continue eating. “I loved him.”

  “I know.” Natasha’s voice was gentle. “You’re not exactly a well-adjusted guy,” she said, leaning forward. “Patrick, you’re shit at interacting with people on the best of days, and you lash out before people get too close because it makes it easier than having to deal with losing people.”

  Staring into his mug, Patrick could barely start to process that. “I wasn’t the only one who did wrong.” He paused. “Right?”

  “I don’t know the whole story,” Natasha told him, “But if what Michael says is true, then no, you weren’t the only one in the wrong.”

  Patrick blew out a breath, felt the tension bleed out of his body. “Fuck, what the fuck did we do?”

  Natasha shrugged, but she looked thoughtful as she sat back in the chair, toying with the mug’s handle. “I think you both jumped feet first into a relationship, Isaac with no idea how to handle someone as high profile and as much of a shitty drunk as Patrick Wright,” she smiled to soften the jibe, but Patrick heard the truth of it, let it hit its mark and swallowed down the urge to fight back. “And you had no idea what to do with someone who genuinely loved you, wanted you.”

  Again, the truth hurt, but Patrick forced himself to listen. “What now?”

  “Only you and Isaac know that,” Natasha said.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Patrick woke slowly, staring up at the ceiling.

  The curtains had been drawn. Natasha, he thought idly, ignoring the tightness of his chest; the last time someone had closed his curtains, it had been Isaac. Isaac had become such a huge part of Patrick’s life, it would be difficult to move away from it. If Patrick actually wanted to move away from it.

  Patrick’s phone was lighting up on the nightstand and he picked it up, alarm ringing off, and he sighed, knowing he would have to go into work at some point. He would have to talk to Gary, to Rebecca and Eddie. Jesus, he had to do something with his life, couldn’t keep living the way he had been. If Isaac had taught him anything, it was that he deserved better for himself – and for the people he shared his life with.

  Showering and getting dressed, he hesitated before pulling open the door to his bedroom. He could smell the coffee, knew Natasha had probably stayed the night, and he didn’t know what he could say to her. Patrick wasn’t a coward, not really, and he opened the door, noticed Natasha curled up on the couch, cradling a cup of coffee in her hands.

  “Morning,” Patrick said quietly.

  Natasha looked over the back of the couch. She was sans makeup, not the first time he’d seen her that way, but she looked tired and drawn. “Morning.”

  “You didn’t have to stay,” Patrick said, getting himself his own coffee, grateful that Natasha had put enough on for him as well.

  “Yes, I did.” Natasha watched him sit down, and she bit at her bottom lip, looking almost vulnerable.

  Patrick didn’t want her to say anything else, afraid that he’d talk himself out of what he’d managed to convince himself of in the shower. “I think I need to sort my shit out.”

  Raising her eyebrows, Natasha said nothing, seemingly willing to wait him out.

  “I drink too much,” Patrick admitted, pulling a face. “I pretend that everything’s fine in here,” he said, touching his chest, “when it’s anything but. I run through several scenarios in my head and assume the worst, even when I’m really fucking happy.”

  “You’ve been to therapy,” Natasha pointed out.

  Patrick shrugged, staring down at his coffee. “Sometimes you have to go back more than once.”

  “And Isaac?”

  Wincing, Patrick looked up, a wry smile on his lips. “That’s up to Isaac.”

  “And you,” Natasha pointed out. “If it’s not what you want–”

  “Of course he’s still what I want,” Patrick said quietly. No matter what had happened between them, how devas
tated and hurt he was over their communication issues, Patrick loved Isaac. “I love him.”

  Natasha was smiling softly when Patrick met her eyes and he rolled his.

  “What? As if you didn’t know.”

  “Suspected,” Natasha said, looking a touch smug. “That’s a big difference.”

  Patrick tipped his head back against the couch. If Natasha had only suspected that he loved Isaac, he wondered how many of his friends felt the same way. “Rebecca? Eddie?”

  Natasha shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “You’d have to ask them. But I don’t think any of us were sure you’d ever admit it to yourself, so how could we be sure it was accurate?”

  “The way I was with Isaac, I’d never been that way with anybody before,” Patrick admitted. “I would have thought that was reason enough.”

  “You just said it yourself, it was out of character. A Patrick Wright in love isn’t an easily definable thing, Patrick.”

  “Not even for me,” Patrick muttered.

  They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Patrick knew he had to go into work, had to get the day started, and he doubted that Natasha could spend the rest of the day holed up in his apartment, but he was reluctant to break the calm that had settled. It was the first time he’d felt candid with someone for – for a while. He was usually holding a part of himself back, trying to save himself the heartache; Natasha hadn’t been wrong about that.

  “I want that to change,” Patrick said, and Natasha frowned. “I’ve got thirty years of habit to kick, Natasha. Not sure I’m gonna be the kind of person Isaac wants until I’m fifty.”

  Natasha’s expression was kind, honest. “If you think for one second that he doesn’t want you right now, you’re wrong.”

  Knowing that didn’t help. If Patrick went to Isaac, begging on his knees to take him back, or asking Isaac if he would want to, a couple of months down the line, they’d be right back to now, doubting their relationship. He told Natasha as much, mouth quirking up wryly.

  “And what are you going to do about it?”

  Patrick downed the rest of his coffee. “Right now, I’m going to get to work. Rebecca and Eddie will be banging down the door otherwise. Then,” he said, walking around the back of the couch, leaning down to press a kiss to Natasha’s forehead, “I’m going to get my shit together.”

  “Good luck,” Natasha said, laughing. She watched him as he grabbed his keys and wallet from the counter in the kitchen. “I think you can do it, if it’s what you really want.”

  “Thanks,” Patrick said quietly. “Let yourself out whenever you want.”

  Natasha waved a hand, acknowledging him silently.

  Patrick decided to make his own way to work, knowing Keith would have come in a heartbeat, but being alone would help to clear his head, at least a little. His heart still ached when he thought about Isaac, and he hoped that Jake and Sam had been able to comfort Isaac in some way. He wanted to do it himself, to go around to Isaac’s apartment and never leave until they were curled around each other and had promised each other the world.

  He hadn’t lied to Natasha; he couldn’t do that until he was sure it would work. He didn’t think he could handle losing Isaac for a second time, not through his own behavior.

  Which, he was sure, plenty of people would be willing to give him tips on. He smiled wryly as he stood in front of the looming building, his name blazoned on the side and he knew who would be waiting inside, how quickly he had kicked them out after his bender.

  Steeling himself, he pushed open the doors to the building, and strode inside, with as much confidence as he could muster. He received greetings, the customary people coming up with problems, and managed to extricate himself fairly quickly.

  Rebecca would usually be waiting, if she’d known he was coming in, but thankfully he avoided her as he slipped into the elevator, letting out a breath as the doors closed behind him. He tipped his head back against the wall and rubbed at his face, knowing exactly what would be on the other side of the elevator doors once it came to a stop.

  Eddie, Rebecca, and Patrick’s first attempt at trying to be a better person.

  It was going to be an uphill battle of the worst kind, and Patrick had to hope that he had the self-control and the drive to get it done. If Isaac had been a guarantee at the end of it, perhaps it would have been easier, but if Patrick was going to be a better person, he would have to allow Isaac the freedom of choice to decide whether he would be.

  Patrick stepped out of the elevator, eyes sweeping the outer office lobby. It was eerily quiet, but the closer he got to his own office, he could hear voices filtering out through a half-open door. His heart lurched and he shook off the memories, knew they were colored by his own apprehensions and fears. It wasn’t Isaac’s apartment, and Patrick’s life wasn’t about to crumble in front of his face.

  “–just worried. He’s never been like this before.” Eddie was talking, his voice pitched low, as if they were going to be overheard all the way up in Patrick’s office.

  “He’s never been in love before,” Rebecca said, just as quietly.

  Which answered the question of whether or not Rebecca had known. More perceptive than Natasha, clearly, but that didn’t help Patrick. He stepped closer, evening out his breath, and listened to the way Eddie sighed. “We weren’t exactly the greatest friends.”

  “No,” Patrick said, sweeping into the room, delighting in the way both Rebecca and Eddie jumped. It wasn’t often he could catch them unawares. “But you’re trying, and that’s all I can ask, Eddie Bear.”

  “Patrick,” Rebecca said, almost breathless, and crossed the space between them, hesitating only a moment before tugging him into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

  Patrick squeezed her quickly, then pulled back, eyes flicking to Eddie and then back. “I shouldn’t have kicked you out the way I did.”

  “You were right to,” Eddie said, sliding out of his chair and coming around the desk, leaning against it. “We hadn’t been good friends.”

  “If I’d had to be my friend for that long,” Patrick said slowly, “Then I might have reacted the same way.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence that none of them seemed ready to break, but Patrick hadn’t only come up here to work. He had Eddie and Rebecca in his life for so long that he didn’t want this thing with Isaac to be the catalyst for losing them.

  “I know I’ve been a dick,” he said eventually, scratching the back of his head. “Drinking and acting like I had it all solved when I’m not.”

  Rebecca shook her head, but Patrick held up his hands.

  “I think,” he said, folding his arms across his chest to keep them from touching him. He had already hit his quota of talking about his feelings, and if he never had to do it again, he would be fucking grateful, “I need to get my shit together.”

  Natasha had been on his side, and he hoped that however they felt about his coping mechanisms, Rebecca and Eddie would stand by him. They exchanged a look, the silence almost oppressive while he waited, but then Rebecca was taking a step back, lips quirking up.

  “Where do you wanna start?”

  Patrick’s eyes moved to Eddie, who looked relaxed against the desk. He was staring right back, looking proud and sure, and Patrick was sure he’d been waiting two decades for Patrick to get the fuck over himself and figure it out. “Sorry it took so long.”

  “You’re doing it now,” Eddie said, pushing himself to his feet and slipping his hands in his pockets. “What made you decide it was time?”

  Isaac.

  “Isaac,” Patrick admitted. Another look exchanged between Rebecca and Eddie and Patrick knew that whatever they were thinking was nowhere near what was actually going through his head. “Whether or not he ever wants me back, anyone I end up with,” his voice hitched, and he looked down at his hands, “If I end up with someone else, they deserve to have someone who won’t fuck shit up.”

  Rebecca had a touch of pride in her expression. “You don’t
give yourself enough credit.”

  Patrick shrugged. “Maybe not. It’s what I need to do.”

  “To get over Isaac?” Rebecca asked, dubiously.

  “Yeah,” Patrick breathed, knowing even as he did so, that he wouldn’t be able to. “Not – maybe not completely, but to make it stop hurting.”

  Rebecca opened her mouth to say something else, but Eddie wrapped his fingers around her elbow, and she relaxed.

  Eddie nodded once, as if making a decision himself. “We’ll stand behind you, Tones.”

  “Thanks,” Patrick said. They had things to work on together as well, he knew that – they had been too quick to discount his feelings, and he didn’t always give them the credit they deserved. That would come with time, in just the same way he would fix things with everybody else.

  Maybe one day, if he had earned the right to that kind of luck, he would be able to spend time with Isaac without it hurting.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Going cold turkey with alcohol was quite possibly the worst thing Patrick would ever have to do.

  “It’s not a quick fix,” Gary kept telling him, brow furrowed. “It’s a hard habit to break.”

  I’m not an alcoholic.

  It was the one thing Patrick had always been able to convince himself of and no, maybe he wasn’t, but he drank more than was healthy for a person, and if he bothered to take his ass to a doctor, he was sure they would be more than happy to inform him of the myriad of ways he had screwed up his liver.

  There was no alcohol in his apartment. Natasha and Jake had swept the entire place, getting rid of everything but the wine. Not that there was enough of that to make it worth it, and every time Patrick tried to grab a glass, he was forced to stop himself.

  “You know,” Sven said, standing in Patrick’s kitchen. He had a full house, everyone deciding they would hold movie night at Patrick’s for the rest of forever while he was drowning in self-pity and alcohol free moments. Well, everyone except Isaac and Sam for obvious reasons, and Patrick felt like a dick. He had thought, for a beat, that one of them would win the friends, but it was an asshole thing to think, especially when everyone was only too happy to let him know how much Isaac was struggling.