Read Will & Patrick Meet the Mob Online

Authors: Leta Blake,Alice Griffiths

Will & Patrick Meet the Mob (3 page)

Will still feels the imprint of Patrick’s hand on his face when he breaks their tender silence. “I know he scared us both tonight, but don’t worry about my dad. I’ll never let him hurt you. Not ever.”

Patrick shrugs. “Do you know the real take away from tonight? Hint: it’s got nothing to do with your dad and everything to do with
bring your damn murse with you when you leave this room
. Every time. Or I’ll murder you myself.”

Will snorts and nuzzles the back of Patrick’s neck, feeling the short hairs graze over his lips.

Patrick is quiet and still, and his breathing moves from sharp and shallow to long and easy. Will lies awake, admiring the wiry strength in Patrick’s arms and back, and wondering how to balance what he feels with what he knows Patrick needs.

The last time he felt this protective of anyone he was holding his baby brother in his hands for the first time. He knows this is love, but it’s nothing like what he felt for Ryan. With Ryan he’d been scared, anxious, needy, wanting, and tremblingly hopeful. With Patrick, he feels tender, protective, and strong enough for both of them.

But how can he trust it? Patrick’s never had a relationship and doesn’t want one. And what has love ever done for anyone in Will’s family? Look at his mother’s life. Look at Kevin and Roy; look at him and Ryan. Besides, his and Patrick’s relationship was forced on them. They live in an intense and coerced false intimacy. No matter what he feels for Patrick now, it’ll never last once they’re divorced.

And maybe he doesn’t want it to. He’s never been free before, never explored his options. He’s never even downloaded a gay hook-up app. There are so many things in life he’s never experienced and he wants a chance at those one day. But Patrick smells good, and he feels right, and keeping him happy and safe is something Will wants too.

What does happiness even look like to Patrick? He’s admitted to being on the autism scale, and Will has no idea what that means for his ability to have romantic feelings for another person, or for Will specifically. Patrick has made it clear: work, sex, and friendship is enough for him.

If Will wants more, he’s an idiot.

He rubs his hand over his face, the tangle of emotions in his gut roiling. He wishes he had answers, but there are some things he has no power over: drinking, his mother, his father, and Patrick’s heart. They all leave him totally helpless.

Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

It’s the best he can do.

Dislodging Patrick, he reaches to turn out the lights on the bedside tables. In the darkness of their room, he gathers Patrick close again and breathes in his skin-scent. He doesn’t sleep for a long time as key scenes from the night play back over and over in his mind like a series of terrifying GIFs.

 

 

The next morning, Will’s romantic musings feel like the product of overwrought exhaustion when Patrick wakes up cranky as a cat dunked in water.

“Turn off the alarm,” he snarls. “Make it stop.” Then, sitting up and glaring at Will like he’s going to kill him with the power of his mind, he demands, “Did you test yet? Did you eat? What’s your BG number?”

Will’s not even out of bed. Only fifteen seconds ago he’d had one hundred and seventy pounds of Patrick spread out on top of him. Of course he hasn’t tested yet. “I just woke up.”

“Don’t make me test you myself.” Patrick flings back the covers and stalks to the bathroom in his underwear. Will rolls his eyes but grabs his kit and quickly tests. Over the sound of piss hitting water, Patrick calls out, “Well? What’s the number?”

“Ninety-eight. Calm your tits.”

Patrick comes out, arms crossed over his chest and his hair sticking up everywhere. “Calm my tits? Calm
your
tits.”

Will indicates his nipples. “What? Check ’em out. Not even a little bit pointy.”

Patrick narrows his gaze but a reluctant smirk tweaks up the corner of his mouth.

“Let me guess.” Will laughs. “You know how to change that.” The knot of worry loosens in his chest. “Maybe later. I have to eat first.”

While they wait for room service, they shower and shave, and Will endures Patrick making a solid pitch for him to consider a Continuous Glucose Monitoring System.

“I’ll ask Dr. Anastasia about it,” Will compromises.

“And a pump.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

They throw on robes to greet Perry and his cart of warm, delicious-smelling goodies. Will catches Perry looking around the room, and Patrick inexplicably says, “We decided we didn’t like that one. Sent it back.”

Perry coughs and takes the tip Will presses into his hand, but otherwise says nothing.

“What was that about?”

“Babies,” Patrick says, like that makes sense.

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s okay. You’re pretty, puddin’-pop.” Conversation is cut dead at that point as Patrick devours his bacon, muffins, doughnuts, and strawberries with fresh cream. Will’s healthier breakfast of cottage cheese, whole-wheat toast, and a small slice of quiche Lorraine isn’t nearly as exciting, but he doesn’t know how Patrick stays so slim eating like he does. If he tried it, he’d be the size of a house.

Once they finish breakfast, Will broaches the topic. “We’re going to need to talk about my dad eventually.”

“What happened to pretending he’s dead?”

“Unfortunately, he’s not.”

“Point.”

“And he’s staying in this building, so we’re bound to run into him sooner rather than later.”

“Better point.”

Will lets a wry grin spread on his lips. “But I’m not going to just sit back and let him run the show this time. I need find out why he’s in town and then get him to leave again. As soon as possible.” He stands up and brings the chess set over to the table, clearing away their plates. “If we can play ahead of his game, we can at least capture his queen. And then maybe even his king. Especially since he won’t be expecting us to be playing at all.”

“If by queen you’re referring to Kimberly, I don’t know about that. She’s a slippery one.”

“You think Tony’s back because of my mother?”

“Historically, her milkshake has brought him to the yard.”

Will sighs as he sets up the board. “She’s only been dating Jason a few weeks. Tony usually waits for her to get serious before he drops in to ruin her chance at happiness.”

“Maybe Jason proposed.”

“That’d be on
The Hurting Times
forums ten minutes after it happened. Have you seen it there?”

“Nope.”

“And Caitlin would have called threatening to jump off a bridge or shave her head or something drastic in protest.”

“So he hasn’t put a ring on it yet.”

Will moves his pawn forward. “It’s still a starting place.”

Patrick shoves one of his pawns out to an empty square. “Before surgery, I have to know what I’m dealing with. I can’t just cut into someone’s noggin without knowing if I’m going in to repair damage or to cut out a tumor. Same here. We need more information. What’s your dad’s sign?”

Will’s lips flatten. “Seriously?”

Patrick lifts his brows.

“Sagittarius.”

“I knew it!” Patrick shakes his head. “Never trust a Sagittarius.”

Will sighs and ignores this. “Even though the award ceremony isn’t until March, word is getting around now that I won the Healing Hero Award. I hope to God he’s not planning to stick around for that.”

“A congratulatory phone call from Mobster Daddy would have sufficed.”

Will moves a pawn in front of the right bishop. “You’ve been slapped with that stupid malpractice suit. That might have raised his hackles too, if he’s not sure of your intentions toward me.”

“I have zero honorable intentions toward you. So, he’d be onto something there.”

Will snorts. “You made an honest man of me.”

“For now.”

“Yeah.” Will smiles softly as gentle warmth blooms in his chest. “For now.” He bites his lip. “Do you think sex will be even dirtier once we’re divorced?”

Patrick looks up from contemplating the chessboard. “Are you planning on sleeping with me after we’re divorced?”

Will’s ears burn. “Would we have to stop?”

Patrick swallows, his blue eyes shading darker. “Not unless we want to stop.”

Heat zings in the air between them. Will clears his throat. “That’s a long time from now. Who knows when we’ll even have to think about it? You’ll probably be tired of sleeping with me by the time a loophole opens up for us.”

“I’ll never get tired of fucking you.”

Patrick sounds so certain that Will’s dick stirs and he has to look away, focusing his attention back on the chessboard. He’s not sure whose move it is now. “Anyway, there are plenty of reasons for Tony to make the trip from Minneapolis. I’m surprised I didn’t see it coming.”

Patrick studies him before saying, “Too busy getting your rocks off with me to see the big picture.” He stands and stretches. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

“You don’t want to lose.”

“I wasn’t losing.”

“You were.”

“Fine. Hearing you call checkmate isn’t my favorite way to start a day.” Patrick stretches, his robe opening in the middle and revealing a slice of pale skin down to his treasure trail. “Speaking of, what’s on your calendar?”

Will cleans up the board, wondering if he’s got time to lick Patrick’s stomach and treat him to a “hooray, you survived meeting my dad” blow job. “I need to go into Good Works at some point. Probably earlier rather than later.”

Patrick goes to the small closet and pulls out his best maroon shirt and a pair of dark jeans.

Will slides in next to him, grabbing a dark gray button-up and a pair of nice jeans. “How about you?”

“I can entertain myself.”

“Porn?” Will tries to inflect flirtiness into his voice, but it seems to miss its mark.

Patrick scoffs, sliding the shirt on over his shoulders and buttoning it up. “Like I need that now that you’re putting out?” He sits down on the bed, drawing on his socks.

Will wriggles his brows. “Want me to put out this morning?”

Patrick glances up at him, a flicker of interest in his eyes, but then he shrugs. “No. I have things to do and people to see.”

“Like who? And what?” Will asks as he continues dressing. His chest and throat tighten. He’s forgotten the feeling of rejection. It crawls under his skin and stings, and he hates how needy it makes him.

“Like people. And none of your business.”

Will frowns, trying to be reasonable as he slides on his sweater. “I don’t want you trapped in this room, but I don’t know how I feel about you running around Healing alone right now. Not with my dad and his ‘soldiers’ hanging out.”

Patrick huffs, ducking into the bathroom to check himself in the mirror. He must like what he sees because he comes right back out again. “I’m not a damsel in distress. I can handle myself.”

“I know. But we still don’t know what Tony wants, and he scared us both last night.”

Patrick leans against the doorjamb to the bathroom, fingers tapping against his thigh. “I can handle him. We’re both worked up over nothing. He’s here to bust up your mother’s new thing and check me out. That’s it.”

“Maybe. Still, I’d rather be sure. Nonna might know something, but she hates being in the middle with Tony.”

“Then cut to the chase and ask him.” Patrick crosses the room to grab his keys and wallet from the minibar countertop.

“Meet with him?”

“Sure. Why not? He wanted to talk last night. Let him.” He messes around with a bag and tosses his keys and wallet into it.

“He’s a lying, manipulative criminal. How can I believe what he says is the truth?”

“You don’t. When I diagnose a patient, I don’t accept what they say at face value, but I do listen to their take on things.” 

Will’s pretty sure Patrick cuts them off, actually, once he’s heard whatever he deems to be enough. “All right. I’ll arrange a meeting with him.”

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