Patrick sat and took a few deep breaths, the scent of roasting chicken filling his nostrils and reminding him of his dinner plans.How long has Dion been here? Shouldn’t Simon be here by now?What if all of this was just because Dion wasn’t thinking clearly? But then again, today’s erratic behavior didn’t explain the letters and the rest of it. Dion had clearly been trying to break him and Simon up for a long time. However, Dion wasn’t violent. The knife and the pushing and shoving wasn’t like him at all. Maybe Patrick could explain that away as part of his medical condition, his sugar levels making him crazy. Pain pulsed at Patrick’s temples as he tried to make sense of the whole situation.
Dion’s bag was on the stool where he’d left it. The only problem was, the stool and Dion were between Patrick and the doorway. He contemplated trying to make a run for it—after all, Dion wasn’t exactly steady on his feet at the moment—but he still ran the risk of being hurt.Plus I can’t leave Dion, can I? He needs help.
Before Patrick could decide on the best option, Dion returned with his medical supplies—a small portable blood testing kit, and a larger insulated bag that contained his insulin pen. “I followed you, you know.” Dion spoke as he prepared the test kit. “You weren’t even upset about the stuff going on. You went hiking, and hung out with your friends.”
“I was upset! Those letters really freaked me out, Dion. I even took up boxing in case I needed to defend myself. I thought someone was actually out to hurt me. To hurt us.”
Dion glanced up from where he was pricking his finger. “And you were right.”
Patrick watched the drop of Dion’s blood spread on the test strip. He swallowed heavily and met Dion’s gaze. He needed to get Dion back on side, to convince him he wouldn’t be in any trouble. “You didn’t want to hurt us. I know that. You just meant to scare us, to make us think something bad was going on. It’s just letters, Dion. We can get past this, forget about—”
“Just like you forgot about me the first time and left me? Just like my mom forgot about me?” Dion fiddled with the display on the small device before packing it away and reaching for the other bag with an unsteady hand.
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
Dion’s eyebrows rose. “Wasn’t it?
“I just want us to go back to being friends. We can do that, right? We’ve been getting along fine.”
“I don’t want to be friends, Patrick.” Dion started preparing the pen, pulling the cap off and swabbing the seal with an alcohol wipe. “I want someone who thinks I’m special.”
“There’ll be someone for you. I know there will. It might not seem like it now, but one day you’ll meet the right person.” Patrick watched him screw the needle onto the end of the pen and turn the dial to adjust the dose of insulin. “You’ll get your hearts and flowers, I know it, man.”
Dion snorted. “Just like you get your romantic home-cooked meals for two and roses?”
Patrick’s blood ran cold. “How did you know about the roses? There’s only been one time I was going to get roses. One time when Simon bought them.”
“I told you. I’ve been watching.”
“And he didn’t bring them home. He never gave them to me.” Patrick held Dion’s gaze, watched his nostrils flare and his eyes narrow. “The van in the parking lot? That was you in your pop’s delivery van, wasn’t it?”
Dion’s whole body stiffened, and Patrick knew he’d hit on the truth.Jesus Christ!The knowledge propelled him from his chair, but before he could get fully upright, Dion pounced, shoving him back onto the hard timber. The weight of Dion’s body flung them back toward the wall, where Patrick’s head slammed into the plaster with a resounding crack. At the same time he became aware of pain in his leg where Dion punched him.
What the fuck!
Dion scrambled up as Patrick warded off a wave of nausea. The weight off his chest allowed him to breathe again. He lay on the floor, half tangled in the chair, and looked up at Dion. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything!” Dion’s voice held a note of panic. “It’s all your fault. If you had only broken up with Simon.”
Patrick scrambled to free himself from the chair and inched back to lean against the wall. “You tried to run him over.”
“I didn’t! It was an accident. I just wanted to scare him. I didn’t mean to hit the shopping cart, but an old lady stepped out in front of the van and I had to swerve. I only wanted to scare him. I promise.”
“You need help, Dion. Let me help you.”
“It’s too late for that.” Dion was shouting now, and Patrick tried calming him down by keeping his own voice low and calm, although inside his heart was beating a million miles an hour.
“It’s not too late. It’s never too late. We can find someone for you to talk to. I’m sure if you could just speak with a professional…. There’s someone at the hospital, surely.”
Dion snorted. “You think it’s as simple as talking to someone and that will resolve everything? I drove into your boyfriend, nearly killed him, for God’s sake. They’re not going to let me get away with that.”
“What?” They both turned to look at the doorway where Simon stood with a stunned look on his face.
