“I’ll be fine,” Patrick stated. He reached across the table and grasped Brad’s hand. “You’re here now.”
“So, I make things better?”
“Yes, you do.” Patrick gave his hand a squeeze, then released it. “So, how’s your brother doing?”
Brad knew that Patrick was changing the subject, but he let him. Obviously, whatever it was that had upset him was something that he didn’t want to talk about. Brad told Patrick his brother’s story while they ate. That led into stories of his childhood, which had Patrick laughing. Throughout the conversation, Brad noticed that all of the stories Patrick mentioned were things that had happened in university. He didn’t say anything about his childhood.
As Bess brought Patrick his third cup of coffee and Brad his second glass of juice, Brad felt a foot rub against his leg. “Are you trying to get my attention?”
“I don’t know; is it working?”
“It might be.” Brad returned the nudge with one of his own. When Patrick smiled at him, he did it again.
“So, you’re an omelet fan?”
“I love omelets.”
“I make a pretty mean omelet.”
“Really? You’ll have to make me one sometime.”
“I’d like that.” Patrick’s eyes darkened slightly and his foot ran up and down Brad’s calf.
Suppressing the shiver that Patrick’s action caused, Brad blushed softly as he smiled at the other man. “So would I.” He reached across the table and laced his fingers with Patrick’s. “You ready to go?”
“Do we have to? I’m having a good time.”
“I’d like nothing more than to stay here with you, but I need to go home and get some sleep.”
“Okay.”
“Come on,” Brad stated. He tossed enough money on the table to cover breakfast and leave a sizable tip, pulled Patrick from the table, and headed for the door. He squeezed their laced fingers as he tugged Patrick to his car. “I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Fine. I guess you can drive me home.” Patrick flashed him a wicked smile as they reached the car. “Of course, I’d rather go to your home.”
“Maybe later,” Brad replied as he felt a blush creep over his cheeks. He held the door open for the older man. Patrick grinned at him as he climbed in. Shaking his head, Brad walked around the car and climbed behind the wheel. “I’m starting to think that you might be a bad influence.”
“Always,” Patrick replied. Brad laughed, put the car into gear, and headed for Jack and Julian’s. The moment he got onto the main road, he felt Patrick’s hand land on his thigh. Not needing both hands to drive the automatic, he laced his fingers with Patrick’s.
As they got closer to their destination, the tension that had left Patrick during breakfast started to come back. Brad felt a slight tremble start in the hand that he was holding. He lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of Patrick’s hand. “You sure that you’re going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Brad kissed his hand once more and then lowered their linked hands back to his thigh. He pulled into the drive at Jack and Julian’s and put the car in park. He could see Julian sitting on the porch. When he noticed the car, Julian stood up and started to walk toward them. Brad shifted around so that he was facing Patrick. “Well, this is your stop.”
“Seems that way.”
“You really don’t want to get out of the car, do you?” Whatever the hell had happened while Brad had been away, he was sure it had something to do with Julian. Patrick wouldn’t be this distraught over just anyone.
“Not really, but I guess I have to.”
“I’ll see you Tuesday.”
“Yeah. You know, you can call me any time that you want to.”
“I might do that,” Brad replied. Pulling on the hand that he was still holding, Brad inched Patrick closer. When he was within range, Brad leaned forward and kissed him. Brad ran his tongue over Patrick’s lips until the other man opened for him. His tongue delved inside, hunting for the taste of Patrick underneath the pancakes and maple syrup. When they broke away, Brad ran his thumb over Patrick’s bottom lip. “I’ll see you on Tuesday.”
“Tuesday,” Patrick repeated. He gave Brad’s fingers a final squeeze, smiled at him, and then climbed out of the car. He waved and headed to the house, completely bypassing Julian.
Brad rolled down his window and stuck his head out. “Hey, Julian! Can you come here for a second?”
“Sure.” Julian walked over and leaned against the car. “What’s up?”
“Remember when you asked me what my intentions were towards Patrick?”
A confused frown crossed Julian’s face. He looked a little green. Good, Brad thought; he should be suffering. “Yeah.”
“Maybe you should ask yourself the same question.” Brad gave Julian a long stare before he backed the car out of the driveway. He took one last glance at the house, spotting Patrick standing on the porch. He waved before he drove off. Hopefully, Patrick would be feeling better by Tuesday. If he wasn’t, Brad was going to have words with Julian.
“Fuck!” Julian dug his fingers into his hair, fighting the urge to scream, cry, or both. He’d been waiting on the front porch for Patrick to come home, but he hadn’t counted on Brad.
He hadn’t counted on a lot of things.
Brad’s words had hit home. Julian knew they had been intended to hurt him, but he deserved it and Brad had a point. Part of him didn’t want to let Patrick go, even though he knew realistically that he should have done it ages ago.
Now he had two options. He could track Patrick down and try to talk to him, which would be difficult, painful, and probably unsuccessful, or he could let Patrick run from him and hope that someday they would be on speaking terms again, which would also probably not work.
Those weren’t really options at all. Given the choice between doing nothing and doing something, Julian had to do something. If he was really lucky, he might walk away from this whole thing with both his sanity and Patrick’s friendship.
It was kind of an all-or-nothing deal.
Stomach churning, he followed the sound of slamming doors into the house.
He found his quarry in the kitchen, sitting at the table with two beer bottles in front of him. One of them was empty. “I don’t want to talk about it, Bambi.”
“Fuck, me neither.” Julian crossed his arms self-consciously. “Patrick, I don’t even know where to start, but I know—I know what’ll happen if we don’t talk about it, and I’m not ready to let that happen.”
Patrick slammed the second bottle down on the table. Julian flinched. “Why’d you do it, Ace? You have the perfect fucking life. The perfect job. The perfect little town. Even your boyfriend is fucking perfect. You can’t possibly need me, too.”
Stung, Julian took a step back. “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. You’ve been here less than a week. We haven’t even spoken in months. You don’t know anything about my life or what I need.”
“Yeah, well, maybe if you weren’t so busy being perfect you’d have found the time to call me your damn self!” Patrick stood up, pushing back from the table. “You know what I’m like. You know I sleep around, and you know I’m not that discreet about it, but I’ve never done that with you. You never thought about that? You never thought that might mean something?”
“You weren’t exactly complaining last night!” Julian said furiously. “Not a word of protest, Patrick. In fact, I seem to remember you literally asking for it! It takes two!”
“Three, apparently,” Patrick corrected with a sneer. “Is one not good enough for you anymore?”
Julian slammed his fist down on the table. “Goddamn it, Patrick. I love Jack, okay? I love him, we have a lot of sex, and it is good. It was a mistake to invite you into our bed and we all know it, and I am so fucking sorry, you will never even know. We broke up almost ten years ago! I sort of expected us both to be over it!”
“You left me,” Patrick
reminded him sharply. “Or have you forgotten that little detail? You left me because I wasn’t good enough, so don’t you dare go around playing the victim!”
“Oh, I am so sorry I spared you the pain and did all the work for you. What did you think, that I just spontaneously decided to leave you in my sleep?” Julian took a step forward. “I heard you in the kitchen, Patrick. I heard you talking to Cam. Leaving you was the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done in my life, so don’t think it didn’t affect me!”
Oh, shit.
Patrick had stopped yelling.
The bottom dropped out of Julian’s stomach. He knew immediately they’d gone too far—way too far. Patrick was never supposed to know that he’d overheard that conversation. The only person who knew was Cam, and Cam had been sworn to secrecy.
“Patrick, oh my God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—say something!”
Patrick’s face was ashen. He raised one trembling hand to his mouth. “I think….” He swallowed. “I think… I think I’m going to be sick.”
Julian honestly hadn’t thought he could feel any worse, but slumping against the wall to the bathroom, hearing Patrick empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet, proved him wrong. He raised a shaking hand to his face to hide his eyes. His fingers came away wet. Sometime in the last few minutes he must have started crying and just not noticed.
Finally, he heard the water running in the sink. Gathering what remained of his courage, Julian knocked on the door. “Patrick?”
There was no answer, but the door turned out to be unlocked. Julian pushed it open and slipped inside.
Patrick was leaning against the wall by the sink. He still looked green in the face, but now there were water droplets clinging to his skin.
Julian handed him a bottle of water and slumped his head against the opposite wall, sliding down. Patrick scooted his legs over to make room. “Sorry.”
“Yeah,” Patrick said, uncapping the bottle. “I got that.” He held the bottle against his forehead. “Me too.” He took a small sip, grimacing. “What the fuck did I miss?”
Julian laughed humorlessly. “Where do I start?” His head thunked back against the tile wall. “Okay. Before Jack and I were together, his mom came into the clinic for a refill for her cancer meds. Roz got pregnant and had a miscarriage. Then, while we were in the hospital, Jack’s mom showed up and collapsed. Did I forget to mention the part where Jack’s mom had never told him she was dying?” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Needless to say, Jack found the empty prescription bottle with my name on it, which sort of threw a wrench into that relationship. Oh, and then I did an emergency appendectomy on my neighbor’s little girl in a morgue. When we got home from the hospital, Jack and I talked it out. Things were finally starting to go right again.” Julian’s gut twisted. “Then Jack’s mom died.”
“Shit.” Patrick raised the bottle to his lips and took another shaky sip. Julian bit his lip, watching Patrick screw the cap back on. “God, no wonder Roz looked at me like I was such an asshole when I called her mom. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s kind of difficult to bring up,” Julian pointed out. “Besides, you know Roz. She’s as bad as you. She doesn’t want anyone’s sympathy, and she definitely doesn’t want pity.”
“I guess.” Patrick put the bottle down by his hip and then turned his face into the tile a little. “Should I tell her I know? Should I apologize? What do I say?”
Julian shifted on the cold floor. “There’s nothing you can say. At least not until she brings it up. I wouldn’t worry about it.” You’ve got enough on your plate as it is.
He watched his friend for a few silent minutes. Patrick still didn’t look good. In fact, he looked like someone who had been beaten so hard and for so long that they had just given up. Julian didn’t like the look on Patrick. Even though he’d always been what Cam had called “damaged,” Julian had never seen him look as defeated as he did right now. Something else had to be going on. “Patrick, what happened to you? I mean, besides getting shot?”
Patrick huffed a short little laugh. “Where do I start?” he sighed. “Cam’s stalker turned out to be this guy I used to date. Timothy.” He snorted. “Turns out he was only dating me to get to Cam. Anyway, I apparently missed the sociopath vibes. He cut the brake lines on Jeremy’s car, which led to Cam getting in an accident, which led to a shoot-out at the hospital.” He motioned to his shoulder. “He was going to kill Jeremy. So I shot him.” Quietly: “He died. I killed him, Ace. I don’t even think I regret it.”
Julian picked at Patrick’s sock. He wasn’t ready to speak just yet. He hated that life had been this cruel to someone who had always been good to him, even when he didn’t really deserve it. Patrick’s sense of self-worth was fragile enough as it was without someone using him to get to another man. He wished he’d remembered that last night instead of this morning. It had taken him months to understand the lasting emotional damage Patrick’s parents had inflicted on him when he’d told them he was gay. He’d always been sensitive to that—until it mattered most, apparently.
Patrick shouldn’t have had to question his conscience over this. Julian knew he wouldn’t have killed anyone unless he had no choice. So did everyone else who’d ever met him—it was only Patrick that doubted himself. “Think we should go on Dr. Phil?”
“Oh, God, we’re fucked-up enough to warrant daytime television. This is a new low.”
Julian nudged Patrick in the hip with his foot. “I think Brad’s good for you.”
“Yeah?” Patrick nudged him back. “Why do you think that?”
Julian smiled a little, wistfully. “You didn’t sleep with him.”
“What?!”
Patrick’s shock at Julian’s unexpected pronouncement was pretty cute. “It’s obvious, Patrick. You got sulky when he wasn’t there last night. You obviously missed him, and you went home with us.” He shrugged. “You’re a lot of things, Patrick—slut doesn’t even top the list—”
Patrick stuck out his tongue.
“But you’re not a cheater.” He scratched the back of his head ruefully. “Actually I think Brad kind of wants to beat the snot out of me right now. Hell, even I think I deserve it. Maybe I should just tell him to take his best shot.”
If Patrick could have gone whiter, Julian had the feeling he would have. “Brad knows?”
“You’re not exactly Mr. Subtle Pain, you know. Besides, what else could have happened that you wouldn’t talk about with Brad? You’re staying in Alberta with your ex-boyfriend.” Julian thought it was pretty damn obvious. “Brad may or may not have noticed the bad decision-making.”
“Well, at least I don’t have to wonder what to tell him.” Patrick sighed. “I’m—ow, fuck, that hurts.”
Julian frowned, following Patrick’s gaze. His leg had just twitched a little on the floor. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Patrick said. Julian could tell he was lying by the way he winced. “I tripped going up the stairs last night. Jack caught me before I could fall, but I think I jarred something.”
Fuck. That was all Julian needed, for Patrick to be further injured physically as well as emotionally. Fantastic. Groaning, he rolled to his knees. “Okay, stand up.”
Patrick scowled.
“What, you think I’m going to make you take medication for your shoulder but that I’m not going to check out your spinal cord injury when you complain about it? You’re delusional. Come on, get up. If you’re good, I’ll give you candy or something; that’s what we do for the whiny kids at the clinic.”
Patrick stood up, grimacing, shifting from foot to foot for a minute. Julian knelt behind him and pulled up the back of his shirt, pressing his fingers along Patrick’s spine. He wasn’t a chiropractor, but there weren’t any major problems. “I still wish you’d called me.”
The muscles in Patrick’s back tensed. “Ace….”
“You didn’t have to call me as a doctor, you know. You could have called me as a friend
.” Biting his lip, Julian probed the skin a little deeper. There didn’t seem to be any slipped discs or anything. “I would have believed you.”
“Julian—” The muscles tensed again and then slowly went lax. “Here’s the thing. I don’t think I’d have been able to take it if you told me I’d never walk again.”
Oh. That… made sense. Julian inspected the area around the bullet wound carefully, but there was no damage he could see, at least not without some X-rays. “It hurts here?” He poked Patrick in the back of his right leg.
“Ow! Yes. Keith wanted me to have Roz check it out, just to make sure….” Patrick trailed off.
“You can relax, Patrick. Keith doesn’t want to talk to me because I was an ass. I’ll get over it.” He leaned back and stood up, stretching the kinks out of his back. When had he gotten so tense? Probably when they were screaming at each other in the kitchen, Julian reflected.
“So? What’s the problem?”
“You want my professional opinion?”
Patrick nodded. Poor Patrick. He was so used to things being wrong with him that he always expected the worst.
“You’re getting old. You pulled a muscle.”
Patrick’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”
“Sorry. No surgery required.” Julian smiled, relieved. “I can take some X-rays this week if you’re still worried. I know how much you love them. You can send them along to Keith with my regards.”
“Getting old?”
“Yes.”
“You know you’re older than I am, right?”
“Yeah, but I don’t abuse my body. It is a temple, not a bad horror movie.” Julian poked him in the stomach. Patrick wasn’t looking quite as green as he had a few minutes ago. “You want some leftover pancakes?”
“God, no.” Some of the green returned. “No pancakes. Not for at least a week.”
“But you love pancakes.”
“Not anymore.”
Julian grimaced. Apparently Patrick had seen those pancakes more recently than he would have liked. “Right. Sorry. Um—”
Ding.
Wild Angels Page 11