CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Patrick
Patrick hummed ashe prepared the meal the next night. They’d agreed that Simon would move into Andrew’s house too, and he was coming after his shift and once he’d picked up some clothes and other bits and pieces he’d need. The special dinner was Patrick’s way of apologizing for the way he’d left and the grief he’d caused Simon. His grin got even wider when he heard the doorbell.
“You’re early….” The words died in Patrick’s throat as he opened the front door and saw Dion standing on the doorstep, and not Simon as expected.
“Sorry,” Dion said, his voice a little unsure. “I hope it’s okay I came over without calling first.”
Dion pushed open the door and Patrick automatically stood back. “Uh, sure, I guess.”
His skin prickled and his thoughts raced. After all the doubts about Dion, having him in the house made Patrick really uneasy. He wasn’t sure how to handle the whole situation.
Once Dion stepped into the hall, he peered out onto the street but there was no sign of Simon’s blue Honda. He shut the door, resolving to act as normal as possible and get Dion out of the house as quickly as he could. “I was just in the kitchen getting dinner ready. I need to go check on it.”
“Sorry to interrupt.”
“That’s okay.” Dion followed him to the kitchen, where the scent of roasting chicken filled the air. Patrick checked the oven before turning to face him. “What can I do for you? Were you coming for a particular reason?” He just wanted to deal with whatever Dion wanted quickly. His plans for tonight had nothing to do with Dion and everything to do with Simon. A smile touched the corners of his mouth as he thought of the evening he had planned.
“Er… can’t a friend just pop by?” Dion asked. He looked momentarily unsure, but then that bright smile plastered to his face again. He held up a bag Patrick hadn’t even noticed him holding. “I brought you something.”
Dion placed the bag on one of the stools that lined the kitchen island counter. He unzipped it and pulled out a six-pack of beer, holding it out to Patrick like he was presenting a gift from the gods.
“Oh, thanks.” Patrick found himself automatically reaching for the beer. “But listen, Dion—”
“Actually, I came to see if you were all right. I thought you might like a bit of company now you’re living by yourself. It must be lonely.”
“What?” Patrick put the beer on the countertop. “No, I’m fine. I’m not often by myself much, anyway, at least not long enough to get lonely. Between work, and boxing, and Simon….”
Dion’s eyes flashed. “I thought you’d broken up with him. Isn’t that why you moved out?”
“Not really.” Patrick sighed. “It’s a long story and I don’t want to bore you with the details.”
“Don’t be silly. What are friends for? You know I’m here for you, right, Patrick?” He stepped forward and reached for Patrick, giving his upper arm a squeeze. His grip felt too tight, constrictive not supportive.
“Yeah, sure. But this isn’t really a good time.”
“So whenwillbe a good time then?” Dion snapped. Patrick stepped back, and Dion’s eyes widened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. It’s just hard, you know. We haven’t had very much time alone.”
Alone? What the hell does that have to do with anything? We’re friends, we don’t need time alone.
A chill spread through Patrick despite the warmth of the kitchen. He had a sudden thought. “How did you know I’d moved in here? And about the discussion with Simon? How did you know any of that?” Patrick stepped backward, pressing his back against the fridge.
Dion blanched. “I… um….”
“Dion?” Patrick hated that his voice shook.
Dion straightened; his pallor vanished. “I called the house to talk to you when you didn’t answer your cell. The guy that answered the phone said you’d gone away for a while. So I went to the school and saw your car, so followed you here. I wanted to talk to you. I don’t know anything about what happened with Simon. You shouldn’t be with him, anyway. You shouldn’t be with anyone.”
The stainless steel was cold against Patrick’s back, and Dion’s words were icy. The chill in Patrick’s veins intensified.
“What do you mean?” Patrick’s voice was hardly more than a whisper.
Dion barked a bitter laugh. “You honestly don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“For crying out loud, Patrick, surely you aren’t that stupid? Gullible maybe, but I thought for sure you would have figured it out by now. Simon is right, you know; you are totally too trusting.”
