He left with the security guards, and Patrick closed his office door and locked it, not wanting to be disturbed by anyone. Every instinct in his body was telling him to ignore everything Grant had told him. It had been done to inflict pain, and he’d succeeded. But if Jason had cheated on Grant, and done it repeatedly, then how could Patrick ever trust him? He’d seen what repeated infidelity did to his own mother, and how she’d felt there was no other way out. And what had his shithead father done in response? Brought his latest tart to the funeral.
Patrick knew he needed to hear Jason’s side of the story before he believed a word from Grant, but he had thesupposed evidence in his desk drawer. Against his better judgement, he pulled the envelope out and saw it was printouts. There was a sense of relief that they weren’t photographs of Jason with other men. That relief was short-lived when he saw there were screenshots of messages between someone usingTwinkBoyas a profile name and a faceless torso picture. Looking closer, he could see the freckles he’d explored with his tongue. There was no doubt it was Jason in the photo.
There were pages and pages of screenshots of online conversations, with at least a dozen different men, some of them going on for months. Some messages were sweet– it was clear Jason was lonely– but others were explicit, and the men he was talking to were getting frustrated that he wouldn’t meet them.
Patrick spent over an hour reading everything, going through every emotion. There was a sense of sadness in many of the messages. From what he’d seen, Jason just wanted somebody to talk to, and his husband didn’t seem to be an option. Why was that?
This changed nothing. Jason had never physically cheated. Was there a moral issue with what he’d done? Yes. But he knew Jason, and that boy had such a beautiful heart that something had to have happened for him to be pushed into doing this. Patrick needed to talk to him, but Jason was still being quiet. He had to think of a way to speak to Jason without him feeling blindsided, but he also wanted to respect his need for space. It would be difficult, but he could give him a bit longer if that’s what his boy needed.
After another three days, Patrick’s patience was done. Still no contact from Jason, so he needed to take action. He’d spoken with Milo, who had begged him not to print the story. What was he supposed to do? There was no way he was giving upJason. If every other newspaper got the story and Patrick didn’t run it, he’d be fired. There was no question about it. If the owner found out he’d sat on a huge story like this and done nothing, he’d be done for. Maybe it was time to retire? What the fuck was he talking about? He was only forty-three. He had another twenty good years in him.
Jason hadn’t been to work all week, according to Sebastian, but he couldn’t get any more out of his friend. All Sebastian did was keep reminding Patrick to give Jason time, but with Grant’s deadline looming, that wasn’t an option. It was the weekend, so he would walk from his flat to Jason’s, which would take him about forty minutes. It was still bitterly cold, but that was February in the UK. Winter could last until April in some years. At least it wasn’t raining.
The South Bank was milling with tourists who were entranced by Tower Bridge, given it was open for a ship to pass through. He’d seen it a hundred times, and the only thing he felt now was irritation, as it meant a delay in getting over to the north side of the river. He took London Bridge instead, wanting to walk through the city. It was always like a ghost town on the weekend, and preferable to the tourist areas when he was playing out how his conversation with Jason would go in his head.
Once he hit St Paul’s, he was surrounded by tourists again, and he had to focus more on where he was walking than on what he was thinking. Would Jason feel like he was being ambushed? Patrick wasn’t even sure if he’d get over the threshold of the flat. The brothers were very protective of each other. As long as it wasn’t Langdon, he could probably convince the others to let him in. Charlie was with Sebastian– he’d already checked that– and Gregory was on his honeymoon. That left Langdon and Paolo, as well as their men. Max was a big guy, but newer to the group, so he’d hopefully be amenable to Patrick speaking with Jason.
Holborn was no quieter, and the noise got louder as he hitNew Oxford Street, before cutting through Soho Square to get to the infamous flat on Brewer Street. Patrick had only been in there for the first time last month, but he’d heard enough about it from Sebastian. The flat itself was done to a high spec, but there was nothing wow about it. What made it special was that it immediately felt like a home when you walked in.
Patrick wasn’t sure if he wanted to push the buzzer, but there weren’t many flats in their building, so it was unlikely he’d be able to tailgate. After waiting a couple of minutes on the off chance, he pressed the buzzer.
“Hello?”
Fuck – that was Langdon’s voice.
“It’s Patrick.” What else could he say?
He was astonished when the door clicked open without another word. Not wanting to risk it closing, Patrick quickly made his way inside, taking the stairs two at a time. As he turned onto their floor, he saw Langdon at the front door of the flat in his signature stance, with his inked, muscular arms folded in front of his chest and a scowl on his face. It would be intimidating if Jason hadn’t told Patrick many times what a big softie Langdon was.
“He didn’t tell me he was expecting you,” said Langdon.
“It’s more of an impromptu visit. Is he home?”
“Yes. It’s just me and him here, so I’ll ask him if he wants to talk to you.”
Langdon stood back and opened the door for Patrick to walk in. This had been easier than he’d thought, but he knew Langdon would physically throw him out if Jason didn’t want to speak to him.
“Can I speak to you first, Langdon?”
“About what?”
“Grant Kincaid.”
Langdon visibly tensed before giving a slight nod and walking into their kitchen area.
“Tea or coffee?”
“Tea, please.”
Langdon put the kettle on and checked how Patrick liked his tea before getting things ready.
“I’m listening.”
“How likely is he to follow through on a threat he’s made?”
“A hundred per cent. He has his faults, but he’s a man of his word, and he can’t lose face by being seen as soft.”
That was what Patrick had heard himself, but having it confirmed by Langdon was helpful.
