by Jerry Cole
Patrick knew that, He wasn’t an idiot. If he was finding it hard to get through every day without wanting to scream into his pillow about how much of an asshole he was and how he’d managed to fuck everything up, then Isaac would be doing the same. Minus the screaming into the pillow, probably.
“When I am struggling,” Sven said, and Patrick was brought back to the present, to the fact that Sven’s expression was kind, giving, and fuck, Patrick wanted to punch him in his perfect jaw. “I find it helps to have some in moderation.”
“No fucking offense,” Patrick said, grabbing a glass of water instead, “but if I have a glass of wine, I’ll have the bottle. I think you guys are overestimating my strength of will.”
“Sure, Patrick,” Natasha said, breezing into the room. “If that were the case, we’d have cleared out with the wine as well.”
“Such faith,” Patrick snapped, aware of how bitter he sounded. “The fuck am I doing this for? It’s bullshit. What am I gonna do, never drink again? Fuck.”
Natasha squeezed Sven’s arm, and though he looked as if he was going to fight her and stay, he nodded, retreating back to the couches. “You’re being a dumbass.”
Patrick snorted, clenching his hand around his glass. Fuck Natasha. What the hell did she have to know about fighting something like this? What did she know about breaking up with Isaac fucking Carter and having to change your whole damned life because you’re a shitheel of a human being?
“Feel better?”
Shit. Patrick swallowed, meeting her eyes slowly. “I said that?”
“Yep,” Natasha said, and despite his vitriol she just looked placid and amused. “I repeat, do you feel better?”
“No,” Patrick lied. Okay, so it was a little easier to breathe, but it didn’t stop what he’d said being true.
They lapsed into silence, the only noise coming from the TV, and their friends who were yelling something about getting takeout. Patrick’s fingers were white-knuckled around the glass and he slid it across the counter.
“All right yes,” he said. “Doesn’t magically fix everything though, does it?”
Natasha didn’t look impressed. “Were you expecting it to? Patrick, this isn’t a case of stopping drinking and your whole life will suddenly fall into place. This is gonna be fucking hard, and you’ll hate yourself before it gets better.” She paused, ducking her head, forcing him to meet her gaze and hold it. “That doesn’t stop it being the best thing you’ll ever do.”
It sounded so easy when she said it like that.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Patrick admitted. “Not if Isaac’s not at the end of it.”
“Patrick,” Natasha said, coming around the island and taking Patrick’s face in her hands. It’s more intimate than he had ever been with her, but he needed it in that moment, let it ground him into the present and stop him flying apart in a million different pieces. “You can’t live your life for somebody else. You have to live it for you. I promise,” she said, eyes serious, “that if you’re the best version of you, you’ll find someone who you deserve.”
“I just want Isaac,” Patrick whispered, and he understood what she was saying, he did, but he had never felt anything like the love he had for Isaac. How could he just forget about that and move on? When he said as much, Natasha’s smile was sad.
“You don’t. You’re not supposed to forget or ignore that it happened, Patrick.” She dropped her hands, squeezing his arms carefully. “I can’t give you any guarantees about Isaac, but I can promise that if you’re serious about this, you’ll find that it hurts less, and maybe losing Isaac will be a good thing.”
Patrick didn’t see how that could possibly be true, but he wasn’t about to continue arguing in circles with Natasha. She was doing her best and he would listen as much as he could. If he and Isaac never got back together – okay yeah, that was something Patrick was going to have to think about later, because it still hurt too much.
The rest of the night passed in a blur, Patrick wedged onto the couch between Jake and Eddie, who seemed determined to distract him with food and ridiculous technology questions about whatever movie was playing. Patrick didn’t know, wasn’t actually paying attention, and he kept fighting the urge to drag his phone out of his pocket, to message Isaac and just find out how he was doing. Would that be so bad?
Get a fucking grip.
Easier to ignore the feelings when he was stumbling toward his bed, falling face-first into the pillows and swallowing down the urge to sob. At least he wasn’t screaming. But fuck, he missed Isaac like a phantom limb, and even when Isaac had been blowing him off, it had never hurt this much.
Fumbling for his phone, aware of Natasha and Gary still out in the living room, having apparently declared themselves the people to work Patrick through his shit while Eddie and Rebecca handled the business, he shoved the duvet over his head.
Michael’s number was taunting him, and Patrick couldn’t bring himself to message Isaac, but he could try Michael.
You don’t have to tell me anything but I just wanted.
Patrick accidentally hit the send button before he was ready and blew out a frustrated breath.
Is Isaac okay?
There was no reply, no indication that Michael had even read the message, and Patrick dropped the phone next to him on the bed, grinding the heels of his palms into his eyes, ignoring the burn of tears lingering from his thoughts. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Everything was shit and he couldn’t even have a drink to soothe the feelings currently choking him.
It was fucked up.
The phone abruptly vibrated and Patrick picked it up, ignoring the shaking of his hands.
ask him.
Patrick swallowed down the frustration. Fuck you, if it was that easy, I would have done it.
sorry, Michael replied. he’s shit but working on it. Natasha tells me you are too.
Yeah. Patrick left it at that, not sure what to say to someone who had tried their best to mend a rift that had been forming long before he’d shown up. Patrick wondered what would have happened if it had never been a let’s fake date! kind of deal. Maybe the thoughts wouldn’t have started their whispering, wouldn’t have left him feeling inadequate.
Wouldn’t have had him doubting Isaac’s every move because of his shitty life.
It wasn’t worth considering anymore, he supposed. He could only go forward, no matter what lurked around the corner. He should probably shower and change out of his clothes, but he’s exhausted in more ways than one, and he just wants to sleep, to shed the hurt and anger and pain.
Laughing self-deprecatingly, he bites at the inside of his cheek. He was a better person than he was making out to himself and to everyone else. It wouldn’t take a whole shift because if he was a shitty human, he wouldn’t have so many friends willing to help him out. Maybe he could build on that, could work out shit with them and figure out what the hell to do from there.
He knew exactly where he was going to have to start.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Rebecca,” Patrick said, when she strode into the office the next morning. He had woken up early, feeling better than he had in a long time. Eddie had been surprised when he’d walked in, not used to seeing Patrick in before him on the days they didn’t arrive together.
“Is there a reason you called me in?” Rebecca asked, looking immaculate in her skirt and blouse. “I do have shit to do today.”
“About that,” Patrick continued, ignoring the searching look Rebecca was giving him. Eddie was pretending not to listen, fingers poised over his keyboard, but he hadn’t typed anything yet. “I was hoping we could discuss something, if you can fit me in.”
Rebecca raised her eyebrows and yeah, maybe he was talking like a boss would, but fuck it, he had to do it right or she would never take him seriously.
“I think we both know,” he continued, when she finally took a seat in the chair across from his desk, “that this company wouldn’t run half as well as it does if you
weren’t here.”
Cheeks tinged pink, Rebecca looked confused. “Patrick–”
“Wait,” Patrick said, holding up a hand. “Let me get this out and then you can ask whatever the hell you want.”
“All right,” Rebecca said quietly.
The screen of Patrick’s computer was open on his email and he stared at the message he’d composed for the Board. “I have a letter here,” he said, tapping the screen. “I’ve been meaning to send it for a while.” Eddie was sitting right across the room and Patrick winced, scratched at his temple. “It had been made clear to me I should have done this a long time ago.”
Rebecca was frowning, confused, but she remained silently.
“I want you to take over as CEO.”
Silence.
Patrick normally hated the fuck out of silence, but it didn’t seem quite so bad. Rebecca was dumbstruck, one hand pressed to her mouth, but Eddie was smiling, that proud look back and Patrick really needed him to stop doing that, like every step Patrick made was somehow monumental. It made him feel even more of a dick for hearing it so many times and not doing a damn thing about it.
“Patrick,” Rebecca said, her voice sounding strained. “Why are you doing this?”
“Not because of this whole changing my life thing,” Patrick said, because he didn’t want her to think it was an attempt to try to win her over. Not that he needed to, but whatever. “I know it might seem like – Eddie’s been trying to tell me for ages you deserve it, and I knew that, you know? I knew it was something I should have done, that I prefer to be in the labs anyway, working from the ground up. I’ll still – it’s still my company,” he continued, “but you’re – I want you to do this.”
Eddie tapped his fingers on the desk. “I might have said something,” he said eventually, and Rebecca looked back over her shoulder to meet his eyes. “But Patrick’s the only one who can make the decision. We both know he never would have, unless he genuinely wanted this to happen.”
Rebecca didn’t look unhappy, but she wasn’t saying either, wasn’t smiling or thanking him, and Patrick could feel the panic and guilt bubbling up, and he tightened his grip on the edge of the table. “Your terms?”
Patrick breathed out slowly, picked up the contract that had been sitting on the desk in front of him. He slid it across to her and watched her face shift through apprehension and hope. Yeah, he should have done this years ago, but he figured he got some points for getting the hell over himself finally.
“I want to read this,” Rebecca said, meeting his eyes slowly. There was a smile teasing at her lips, so it was something. “If that’s all right?”
“I’m not gonna make you sign it right now,” Patrick said. He gave her a smile, hoping it was reassuring. “Do whatever you want with it.”
Rebecca stood up, and after a brief hesitation, she rounded the desk and leaned down, kissing Patrick’s cheek. “Thank you, Patrick.”
With a quick wave at Eddie, she left the offices. Patrick wanted to sink back into his work, but he knew that Eddie would want to talk about it. As predicted, his friend was already smirking at him, and Patrick rolled his eyes. “What?”
“I’m proud of you, Tones.”
“Sure,” Patrick said, wrinkling his nose. “You told me to do it.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t actually mean you’re going to. You could have ignored me and kept everything the same.”
Patrick nodded slowly. “I think we proved that keeping things the same isn’t working out for me.”
“Sure,” Eddie said, “but making those changes takes a fucking backbone, Tones.”
Which, Patrick was sure he wouldn’t have grown without friends shoving him back to his feet over and over.
“All right,” he said eventually, “enough of that gross stuff. I’m gonna throw up if we keep having to do that.”
Eddie laughed, and it was the most genuine thing Patrick had heard from him in a long time. “Sure, Tones.”
They turned back to their work, and though it was comfortable silence, there was a weight to it as well. Patrick didn’t think that he had to go through all of his friends and make amends for things he’d mostly forgotten about, but it wouldn’t hurt to try and let them know that he did appreciate them, and that without them, he would probably be a drunken mess.
“Tomorrow’s your charity day, right?” Patrick didn’t risk looking at Eddie until the weighted silence was drawing into something uncomfortable. “What?”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not,” Patrick said, holding up his hands. He sighed, frowning at the screen of his computer and then meeting Eddie’s eyes. “Okay, maybe I’m trying to – to get more involved. I expected you guys to always be there for me and I know shit about you that maybe others don’t, but I’ve never asked before.”
Eddie’s smile was warm and pleasantly surprised. “Yeah, Patrick. Sam and I are going to the VA and helping out.”
Patrick fiddled with his keyboard, not sure what he wanted to say, but apparently his brain to mouth filter had fallen apart somewhere along the line, because he said, “I’d like to come.”
“Sure,” Eddie said, without a beat. “I’m sure everyone there would love to see you.”
They probably wouldn’t be, but Patrick appreciated the sentiment. “And Sam’ll be there?”
“Yes, Patrick,” Eddie said, and he looked a little sympatric. “I promise it’ll be fine.”
Yeah, as much as Patrick believed Eddie, he doubted Sam would be as forgiving. Patrick barely knew anything about him beyond he and Isaac being close friends. Better person, Tones, he thought, and refused to let himself get caught in the trap of thinking Sam would hate him on sight. People broke up all the time – and yeah, he definitely had to stop thinking about he and Isaac breaking up – and though friends always stood alongside you, when you had mutual friends, it was harder to be neutral.
Still, Patrick wouldn’t know unless he actually made the effort.
“I have to wait for Rebecca to get back to me anyway,” Patrick said, swiveling in his chair. “Might as well figure out what my other best friend is getting up to.”
Eddie snorted. “Pretty sure that’s Natasha now, right?”
Patrick paused. “What?”
“It was a joke, Patrick,” Eddie assured him, though he did look thoughtful. “You have gotten pretty close.”
“She knew Isaac,” Patrick said, and now that he was thinking about it, it was actually pretty obvious, “and I figured she was the best person to talk to. I think she actually cared about me.”
“Cares,” Eddie corrected. “Just like the rest of us.”
“Yeah,” Patrick said quietly. “I think I’m beginning to realize that.”
Though the rest of the day passed quickly, it was the most comfortable and happiest that Patrick could remember being at work in – well, a good long while. Before Isaac, even, which was an occasion in and of itself. When he’d deemed it a long enough work day, Patrick packed up his bag, a little surprised that Rebecca hadn’t returned, but he could appreciate that it was a big thing to get used to, and she had work besides. He just needed to stop focusing on it and let whatever happened do so.
“I’ve gotta finish something up,” Eddie told him. “I’ll come by in the morning and we can drive to the center together.”
“Sure.” Patrick shouldered his bag and made sure everything was shut down. “You better bring me bagels, Eddie. I need bagels.”
“Sure, bagels,” Eddie said dryly, rolling his eyes.
All of Patrick’s friends shared that trait and it would be so easy to let it get to him, but he couldn’t deny he had done the same thing more than once. Friends elicited that reaction, and he would much rather that than have them bitter and angry.
“Bagels,” Patrick yelled, before the doors to the elevator closed behind him.
True to his word – or maybe Patrick’s yell had actually done its job – Eddie turned up at his apartment d
oor the next morning with bagels and a coffee.
“I have a coffee maker,” Patrick said, waving a hand vaguely in the direction of the kitchen.
“Which,” Eddie said, looking pointedly at the empty kitchen, “you have failed to get started. We have to leave, Patrick, which means you’ll want this.”
Patrick had managed to shower and dress before Eddie showed up, but he nearly always failed at the breakfast and coffee thing on early mornings. It definitely qualified as an early morning. “You and Sam need to learn to sleep in.”
“Or,” Eddie pointed out, as he waited for Isaac to close the door behind him, “you just need to get better at mornings.”
“Maybe,” Patrick allowed.
He didn’t ask where they were meeting Sam, assuming that he would be at the center when they arrived, and he climbed into the passenger seat of Eddie’s car, reveling in the warm strength of the coffee, and the smell of his fresh bagel. Eddie really was a godsend, and Patrick moaned in delight as he bit into the pastry.
“Would you like a moment with your bagel?” Eddie asked.
Patrick’s middle finger was free enough that he could show it to Eddie, who laughed as he started the car. Whatever, Patrick could appreciate good food, all right? Even if, technically, that food was actually bad for him. Semantics.
It had been a long time since Patrick had been to the VA center, or had to drive anywhere close to it, but he knew Manhattan enough that they weren’t going in the right direction.
“We’re picking up Sam,” Eddie said, obviously picking up on Patrick’s confusion. “He’d usually meet us there, but he’s not been staying at home lately.”
That was why the route had seemed so familiar.
Fuck, Patrick thought, having to close his eyes. He knew these streets well, had been here enough to know it by heart and fuck, they were going to Isaac’s.