“Patrick…oh…God,” she finished, leaning her head back as her body trembled.
“You know,” he whispered in her ear, “I’m glad we’ve gotten our first date out of the way, but I have to say, it was my best first date.”
“Mine,” she kissed him, “too.” Her voice was velvety from her orgasm and her body was limp, propped up by the wall.
A couple of dates later, Marly and Patrick sat across from each other at Roaster’s on Lenox Road. He was staring at her as she buttered her cornbread. She looked up and caught him staring at her and smiled shyly.
“What?”
“I don’t know…I keep wondering when you’re going to decide maybe I’m not worth your time,” he answered honestly.
This wasn’t like him, but he’d started to doubt himself. He blamed that on El too. The more Patrick was around Marly, the more he liked her. She was professional and put together at work, but getting to know her outside of work had been an unexpected pleasure. She was fun and pretty low maintenance, and most importantly, he was completely comfortable around her—he had been from the get go. He felt like he needed to keep pinching himself.
“Hmmm,” she said as she popped a piece of cornbread in her mouth, which had been wrapped around his dick last night; it twitched at the memory. “You’re good for an hour or two every few days.” Her work phone dinged and then his followed.
They both looked down at their respective phones. Fuck. They had to go in. On a Saturday. According to the text Patrick received they had about 30 minutes, so they could eat, at least.
“So this must be a big one,” he said as the server brought their food. He’d ordered the rotisserie chicken, black-eyed peas, and broccoli and cauliflower casserole. She had soup and a salad.
“Yeah, they’ve been working on gun runners in Alabama for a couple of years. They were closing in when the group scattered last year.” She blew lightly on her spoon of soup. “Someone’s surfaced in Atlanta…”
“So we’re putting together another sting?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Marly responded and looked down at her phone again. “This is a big deal and we’ve been looking for a chance to get the head of this group for years. I hope we get them.”
“We will.” Patrick knew they would, too. The ATF did what it took if they had a suspect in sight, using tactics other agencies didn’t to lure people out. It was something he’d always loved about the agency, but now he was just over it. He was jaded and tired. He’d learned quickly that trafficking guns was like fighting a mythical beast, you cut the head off and it just grew another—the agency would arrest the leader and another would emerge. It was a never-ending battle.
“So…” Marly pulled her hat down on her head, “I’m thinking you should take me to get my car before we go in.”
“Probably so,” he agreed.
This was turning into something, but what, he wasn’t sure. He’d learned a good bit about her, as well, but she knew nothing (of importance, at least) about him and hadn’t really pushed him for information, which he appreciated. Marly was sexy and smart, but she was also easy to be with and comfortable to just be silent around. This morning, they’d sat on his couch, her legs tangled with his as she read something on her Kindle and he drank coffee in a peaceful quiet.
“So what’s your favorite movie?” she’d asked looking up from her Kindle.
He cocked his head to the side. “That came out of nowhere.”
“Well, it seems like you know things about me, but I don’t know about you.”
Patrick sighed. Here we go…
“Mine’s Steel Magnolias.”
“Shocker,” he laughed. “I have two, I’m not sure which one I like better, Tombstone or Shawshank Redemption.”
“Both really good.”
“So you’re a pretty serious person,” she set her Kindle on the couch next to her.
“Yes, all the time,” he said with a straight face. “I don’t believe in laughter or humor.”
“I’m just saying, you seem to be in a place of constant contemplation.” Marly turned and faced him completely, sitting with both of her legs under her body.
Patrick met her gaze and thought about telling her. Telling her what, that you killed your friend? That your brother is fucked up? That you fell in love with someone who didn’t love you? “I’m just trying to adjust to Atlanta.” He reached over and tugged her hair, exposing her neck, then he dragged his tongue up the sweet column and behind her ear.
“And you’re really good at changing the subject,” she said as she climbed on his lap and straddled him, “and distraction.”
“We should probably keep this quiet, right?” she asked, her mouth inches from his ear, her warm breath making his dick hard.
He nodded. “I think that’s the best idea.”
“Okay, then that’s what we’ll do until you change your mind.” His lips grazed hers as they spoke.
Patrick didn’t know if they would lead to anything, but he knew that he felt better when she was near him, touching him. It was nice to have her around to fill up the emptiness he felt. The ache in his chest was bearable with her.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
SHE WAS NEVER MINE
“Stella’s going into the hospital tomorrow,” Jesse said as he did a squat and Patrick spotted him. It was Saturday, so they were in Jesse’s house; he had every sort of weight and machine Patrick would ever use. Jesse let him work out whenever he wanted, even when Jesse wasn’t there, which was often.
“For what?” Patrick asked as he pulled a 45-pounder from each side of the bar. He’d been seeing Marly exclusively for a while and he didn’t want to fuck that up by even allowing his mind to think of El.
“Really?” Jesse looked at him, complete shock blanketing his face.
“Oh…” Patrick really had banned any thoughts of her from his mind. After the whole pregnant conversation, he decided that he was going to put her behind him.
“I’m leaving in the morning, you want to fly with me?” Jesse stood behind him, but watched Patrick’s expression in the mirror.
Patrick shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so.”
“Dude, come on.”
Patrick lowered his body into a squat and pushed himself up. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Patrick, this is a big fucking deal. She’s having a baby. You already missed her wedding.”
“I know,” he lowered himself down again. “Though, if you’ll remember back, I wasn’t invited to that shindig.”
Jesse sighed. “Big things are happening to her, your friend, and you’re missing all of it. She’s having a baby.”
Patrick dropped the weight on the rack hard and turned around to glare at Jesse. “I know she’s having a fucking baby, okay? I just don’t know if I can look at her and him. I’m doing better now and I just don’t think I can see it!” He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “It’ll make me relapse or whatever the fuck it is again.”
“Look, Patrick,” Jesse grabbed a bottle of water and took a gulp, “let’s be honest here, okay? No one did this to you. Stella didn’t do anything to you. You found her at the most vulnerable time in her life and you took advantage of her.”
Patrick was livid. “I took advantage of HER?!”
Jesse held his hands up in surrender. “Hear me out.”
“Fine,” Patrick responded.
“Stella just had the once love of her life’s brain, blood, and whatever else all over her. She left the real love of her life because she was so low she couldn’t handle anything, she just wanted a few days to contemplate what happened. You show up, you comfort her, you fuck her, and you confuse her.”
“Fuck!” Patrick yelled. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Oh really?” Jesse’s eyebrows rose in a question.
“Did she come on to you?”
“No.”
“Did she tell you she loved you before you did whatever it was you did?”
; “No.”
“Was she broken when you found her?”
“She’s been broken since I met her,” Patrick muttered.
“You know what I mean,” Jesse chastised. “Own what you did, dude. You both did it, but she didn’t force you to fall in love with her.”
Silence.
“Maybe you’re just confused because I’m sure you guys love each other, but maybe it’s just the love that friends have. You guys were both so fucked up after Jamie that both of you were confused. It’s understandable.”
“Jesse, I’d like to admit that’s what happened, but it’s not. I’d been fighting my feelings for her for years.”
“What do you mean?”
Patrick moved to the floor and started doing pushups. Jesse kicked Patrick’s feet out from under him, making him fall to the floor.
“Talk,” Jesse demanded.
“I don’t know how it all got fucked up. Millie was pushing to move in together, for marriage, and all I dreamed about was El. I did everything I knew to do to ignore my feelings for her, but at the beach with her so…”
“Vulnerable,” Jesse supplied.
Patrick was sitting now, his arms crossed over his knees, which were close to his chest, facing Jesse. He shrugged. “I don’t know what happened; it was like I couldn’t control myself around her anymore. She’d broken up with George and Millie left me, it was like our worlds were finally allowing us to be together.”
“Do you really believe that?”
Patrick nodded. “I did at the time.”
“Now?”
“Now…I know she was the lowest she’d ever been when she slept with me, when she let me love her. I honestly knew in my heart that we’d be together after it. It wasn’t just one time. We made love for a couple of days.” Patrick looked down at his hands. “I can still taste her sometimes.”
“Fuck.” Jesse sat down and then began doing crunches. “You made love?” Jesse made a dry heave motion when his back was on the ground. “You fell that hard.”
“I fell years ago; I thought she fell with me at the beach.” Patrick lowered his torso to the floor and started crunches. “I was mistaken.”
“First step is to admit you have a problem.” Jesse laughed. “You’re still important to her, Patrick. Go with me tomorrow. Maybe seeing her with a baby will be the kick to the dick you need.”
“Maybe.” Patrick thought it was exactly what he shouldn’t do. “I don’t really like to be kicked in the dick though.”
“They’re happy, P. You need to see that and move on. Own what you guys had at the beach and that it ended there. Don’t block her from your life because you want to fuck her again.”
“It’s not like that,” Patrick insisted.
“You really think y’all would’ve lasted?” Jesse asked.
Patrick nodded.
“You’re stupid. She’s meant for George. That guy’s got the patience of a saint.”
“He’d leave in a minute if I told him what happened at the beach.”
Jesse froze mid-crunch. “You wouldn’t.”
“I’ve debated.”
Jesse shook his head. “Think about it. That wouldn’t get her back, it would just ruin both of their lives, little guy’s too.”
Patrick was silent as he continued to do crunches.
“Patrick, you don’t know this because no one wants to talk to you about it, but this baby wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Oh, I know,” Patrick interrupted.
“No, not like that, asshole.” Jesse smacked him on the arm. “The doctors told Stella the baby would die, that they’d have to go in and get it. George wasn’t even talking to her and she was going to go through all of this herself. She only had me and Millie because you and George weren’t talking to her. I felt so bad for her. Things can still go bad tomorrow, man. The baby may die. They just don’t know.”
Patrick froze. He was stunned. He had no idea.
“Patrick, you killed someone for her and she picked someone else, I can’t even imagine what that feels like. But, she needs you. She misses you.”
“I don’t give a fuck what she needs.”
A wave of emotions rolled over Patrick. Guilt for not being there for her, rage because she’d picked George, acceptance that he needed to put whatever they had for a few days behind him and try to be there for her and her baby. He didn’t know if he could do it, but he could try.
Or would that just be like rubbing salt in the wounds that were just starting to heal?
Patrick was lying on the couch on Jesse’s plane with his earbuds in his ears, trying to relax. His thoughts were all over the place, per usual. He was on the third season of Breaking Bad and he was thoroughly enjoying each fucked up episode. Jesse was sitting at the table and typing away on his laptop. Patrick knew Jesse had a bunch going on with his game, namely whether he was going to stay with the Falcons, become a free agent, or just fucking retire, but he never really complained about it. It actually seemed like he was taking everything in stride. Patrick wished he was still so self-assured.
Pulling the earbuds out of his ear and pressing pause, he cleared his throat. “What you working on?”
“Looking at my new contract that kicks me in the fucking teeth,” Jesse answered.
“Why do it then?”
“I…” Jesse stopped typing and turned his chair to face Patrick. “I have a lot of people depending on me.”
Patrick sat up. This was new. He didn’t realize this; since he’d moved to Atlanta, Jesse had been sort of lone wolf. Jesse had a ton of people around him constantly, but he really only allowed a few people in his inner circle. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m the only one in my family that graduated from college, so there’s that.”
“Yeah, but your parents are fine. Right?” Patrick knew Jesse’s mom and stepfather owned a restaurant in Beaufort, South Carolina, and were fine financially.
“I pay for a hunting plantation in Aiken, South Carolina, and some other investments,” Jesse answered, “so I just need to work everything out to make sure all my other deals will allow me to continue my lifestyle and pay for those investments.”
“Do you want to keep playing?”
“Of course. I love football, but my recovery time from each game is getting longer and longer.”
“You’re scared,” Patrick stated.
“I’m not scared, but it’s reality that I’ll get hit one last time and it’d be over. I’m nervous that in a few years after I quit playing, I’ll lose cognitive functioning and fall into a depression. There are so many players that happens to.”
Patrick gave Jesse his full attention. “What’re the doctors saying?”
“I’m on the cusp of it being an issue,” Jesse admitted, then turned back to his computer.
“Then retire, become a broadcaster and we’ll watch you on TV every Sunday.”
Jesse laughed. “That, my friend, is very rare.”
“I bet you could make it happen,” Patrick challenged.
“Oh, and you know everything about NFL broadcasting?”
“I do watch it every week,” Patrick retorted. “You don’t because you’re playing. You’d be better than a lot of the guys they have on TV. Get you some pimp suits and you’re good to go. Get your agent on it.”
Jesse grinned at Patrick. “You don’t know me like that.”
“I’m afraid I do,” Patrick muttered, putting his earbuds back in his ears.
They’d flown into National, and Jimmy, Jesse’s driver in DC, took them directly to the hospital. Patrick was uneasy about seeing El. He hadn’t seen her since they’d had their very uncomfortable discussion about the baby.
Jesse led the way into El’s room, carrying a gigantic blue stuffed football. George, Miranda, and Frank were all in the room. El was in the bed, looking completely out of it.
“Stella, congratulations!” Jesse boomed as he walked into the room. “I heard he’s got everything he needs.”
Patrick knew Jesse was trying to comfort her with the knowledge that the baby was normal…healthy. According to Jesse, this had been a huge concern during the pregnancy. Patrick, of course, hadn’t known any of this until Jesse finally slapped him across the face with it, which made him feel like an even bigger douchebag.
“Thanks, J,” El said, giggling hysterically. “I’ve just been given narcotics, but I really appreciate you being here. Can you believe it? I’m going to be a really bad mom.” Real laughter from her caused Patrick to chuckle.
“You’ll be a great mom,” Patrick said without thinking.
“Patrick?” she asked, looking around the room like she couldn’t see him.
“Yeah, El.” He walked around Jesse and stood looking at her in the bed. Forgetting who all was in the room, he moved to her and cradled her head to his chest. Fuck, it felt perfect there. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Proud?”
“Fucking proud,” he whispered into her ear, ignoring everyone else in the room. “You’re amazing.”
El had tears searing down her cheeks. “Do you forgive me?”
He heard a throat clear and Patrick looked up to find Miranda staring at him from a chair, holding the baby. He finally snapped out of it and realized that he wasn’t alone in the room with El. When she was around, he developed a sort of tunnel vision. He cocked his head to the side, still looking at Miranda, hoping she would get that they needed to be alone. George stood next to Miranda, taking in the exchange.
Instead, Frank cleared his throat again. “Let’s get out of here for a few minutes.”
Miranda got up and smoothed her skirt down. “Yes, George, let’s get you some coffee. I want to take Liam down and show him off. Jesse? Would you like coffee?”
“Of course,” Jesse agreed, giving Patrick a sidelong glance as they walked out the door. “So George, did you pass out or what?” he asked as they closed the door to the hospital room, leaving Patrick and El alone.
“You came,” she whispered and it shattered every defense he’d been building against her since he’d left in December.
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