Lola: I’ll find Patrick. He didn’t answer my call, so I’ll take Jude and we’ll go break down his front door.
Mabel: Don’t know why we need to include him.
Paul: No chance we can keep this family only?
Mama: You both knock that off right now.
Lola: Jude is family…and there is no way I can knock anything other than a doggy door.
Mabel: ……I’m walking into Elle’s house now. Be by your side ASAP.
Mama: I’m calling Anika now to let her know about the change in plans. Take care of our girl.
Paul: Of course, Mama.
Chapter Sixty
PATRICK
I’m going to kill that limp dick number pushing asshole.
Seeing another man touching Elle short circuited my brain. It was like my conscious brain turned off and I moved on auto-pilot. I don’t remember how but I managed to get myself away from the situation, into my car and back to my apartment before my brain turned itself back on.
While I do appreciate my body’s quick response, I wish it would have let me actually attempt to process what was happening. When I gave myself more than 30 seconds to think of the scene in front of me, Iknewthat scumbag forced himself on Elle.
My phone rings and it’s Paul, again. I don’t have the bandwidth to talk to anyone besides Elle right now and I need to calm myself down before I reach out to her. I have no right to demand she stop holding meetings with other men alone, or that Loop be immediately taken off as the main accountant for the Farm.
No, doing that would imply that I don’t trust Elle and nothing could be further from the truth. I know Elle will be able to handle this situation. I know she doesn’t need me to tell her what to do,she already knows. All she needs from me is my support and the knowledge that I never doubted her intentions for a minute.
My phone rings again, Lola this time, and I don’t hesitate to send it to voicemail. I need to talk to Elle. My hands are shaking as I pull up her contact and hit the call button.
It rings.
And rings.
And rings.
What feels like an eternity later, the ringing stops and Elle’s no nonsense voicemail plays.
I quickly ended the call and hit the redial button.
Ringing.
Ringing.
Ringing.
Voicemail.
I curse as I end the call.
Me: I’m so sorry I walked away.
I don’t add anything else, I don’t need to try and explain that my body went into panic mode. I just need her to know I regret my actions. I stare at our text thread, waiting for the read receipt to pop-up. It shows delivered but it doesn’t change, there are no dots showing she is typing out a response. My eyes are starting to go blurry as I refuse to even blink and possibly miss a chance at getting evidence she’s seen my message and is trying to respond.
A loud knock at my door finally pulls my attention away from my phone, my focus on it way longer than should be possible.Thank god. Of course Elle wouldn’t waste time texting. She dealt with that little creep and stormed over here, prepared to tear me a new one.
I eat up the distance to my door in three quick strides, pulling it open without checking the peep hole. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” I swing my arms out and attempt to pull Elle into a hug, needing to feel her pressed against me before we have this conversation.
