Brow furrowed, I answered:What’re you talking about? Nothing’s going on.
He called me. “Dude. You left and didn’t even say good-bye.”
“Yes, I did. I even told your mom to contact me if she needs anything.”
“To me. You didn’t say good-bye to me. Now what’s up? Did I do something?”
I flopped on my back and stared at the ceiling. God, how could I answer that?You do something to me every time I see you? Ten years ago, you were my first lover and I’ve never forgotten you?
“No, you didn’t do anything. Not everything’s about you, Patrick.”
“I know that. Right now it’s about you. Listen, my parents are exhausted, and they’ve gone to sleep. I told them I’m probably going out. Can I come by?”
I shut him down immediately. “What? No way. That’s silly. You have training camp tomorrow.”
“I know, but that’s not until ten o’clock. I can be there in less than twenty.”
“Patrick, wait—” But he’d already ended the call. “Damn him.”
I jumped out of bed. No one came to my apartment, not even Dev. I didn’t need my friends to see how ugly the one room was and how bare I kept it. Like my life. It was too late to stop him, because if there was one thing I’d learned in the short time I’d worked for Patrick Sloane, it was that he didn’t take no for an answer.
Chapter Twelve
Patrick
Something was definitely off with Fallon, and as I made my way to his place, I grew anxious that he’d bail on me before I got there. Maybe even quit and go dark. When I arrived at his building, I hit his buzzer, and his voice came through the little tin box.
“Yes?”
“It’s me, Patrick.”
“Please, not now. I just want to go to sleep, and so should you.”
“I want to talk to you. Let me up.”
“Go home, Patrick.”
And the intercom went dead.Well, damn. That only made me dig my heels in more. A man with a dog approached, and as he got closer, his eyes grew wide, so I knew he recognized me.
“Hey,” I said with a smile. “How’s it goin’?”
“Are you…Patrick Sloane?”
“I am. Nice to meet you.” I bent to pet his dog, a mutt with floppy ears. “Cute puppy.”
“Thanks. He’s Waffles, and my name’s Josh. Wow. I can’t believe it’s you. Would you…”
“Take a picture? Sure.” We took several selfies, after which I felt it was appropriate to ask. “Do you live here? My friend invited me over, and he must’ve fallen asleep or something. Mind letting me in?”
“Yeah, of course.” The man opened the door, and I followed him in. He lived on the first floor, and I saw from the number on the intercom outside that Fallon was on the third. “Have a great night, and thanks again for the pictures. Great game last week.”
“Thanks a lot, Josh.” Figuring it never hurt to be nice to a fan, especially one who’d helped me, I pointed at his phone. “Give me your number, and I’ll see about getting you seats for this Sunday’s game.”
“No way! Thank you. Damn, I’m glad Waffles needed that extra walk tonight.” He recited his number, and I put it in my phone with a reminder to have Fallon send the guy some merch as well as the promised tickets.
“Take it easy.”
“Go Kingdom!” He fist-pumped.
