“I haven’t had a pill since we picked them up from the hospital pharmacy,” I said, patting the bottle of pills in my pocket almost guiltily as we finished loading the rest of my things in Patsy’s car.
“I can’t believe it, Wes,” he grumbled. “All right. Come on then. You’ll be comin’ home with me.” He waited until I’d dropped back into the passenger seat of the old VW bug before climbing behind the wheel. “I only live about five minutes away,so we’ll get ya fixed up in a jiffy.” He started the engine with a roar and then drove back out onto Santa Monica.
True to his word, Patsy’s apartment was just around the corner and down the block from the convenience store where we’d first met. His first-floor unit was in a building close enough that Patsy could walk to it, even though the neighborhood wasn’t the greatest. I somehow didn’t think the Irishman would have a problem in that department, though. Unless facing superior firepower, I had a feeling Patsy could handle himself in almost any situation. I hadn’t asked but given the way he’d deferred to his boss on the telephone and treated his friend, Napoleon, I had no doubt he’d served in the military. I’d just have to ask him.
I thought about that for a second. In only twenty-four hours, I’d come to know Patsy very well and already considered him a friend. There was something very down-to-earth and honest about him. Based on how friendly he’d been with the two brothers, Rami and Raj—whom I considered friends—I knew there was kindness inside the man.
And allthathad been before learning that he volunteered his time to help feed the homeless and how concerned he was when he found out someone had hurt Father Gilmartin. He’d spent the day taking me to be seen at the hospital after searching me out just to make sure I’d tended to the bullet wound. The truth was…it would’ve gotten worse and made me really sick if he hadn’t taken me in.
Patsy made me feel inexplicably happy when he grinned impishly at me or laughed at something I said. He made me feel unfamiliar things too, like butterflies in my stomach when I’d held his hand. He’d never made light of my situation or deliberately made me feel bad about how the less than appealing odor from not showering on a regular basis and sleeping in my car clung to me. And he’d never made me feel less than in anyway, even when he’d caught sight of what had to have been devastation on my face at the sight of my few possessions thrown on the ground. He lived up to his last name. Patsy really was one of the good guys.
I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his small, cluttered apartment when he opened the door, immediately setting a box filled with my belongings on the tile floor just inside. Somehow, the stacks of magazines and discarded shoes and clothes littering the room stood in stark contrast to the put together individual he appeared to be. There was nothing about the apartment that didn’t contradict the stereotype of all gay men being great decorators or uber clean freaks. Patsy was a man’s man in every sense of the word. I glanced around his living room, noting the empty pizza box and coke can on the coffee table. He looked back over his shoulder as I closed the front door.
“Sorry about the mess,” he muttered just above a whisper. I smothered a laugh as he tripped over a discarded boot before kicking it across the room, swearing in a language I suspected was Gaelic. “Maid’s day off,” he said, smirking as he glanced at me. The humor in his voice cut off abruptly as his smile faded along with the dimples in his cheeks. He took a step forward and narrowed his eyes to look closely at me. “Yer not lookin’ so good, Wes. Have a seat and I’ll get ya a bottle of water to take a pill. I’m guessin’ yer in pain.”
He waved absently in the direction of the couch, and I walked over to sit down as he moved away, heading toward the kitchen. “I live here alone so it doesn’t have the lady’s touch,” he called out. I watched him open the refrigerator, grab something, and walk back into the room, holding out a bottle of water to me. “Right then. Take a pill.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot, quite obviously waiting for me to do as I was told. I thanked him and grabbed a pill from the bottle tucked away inside my coat. After downing it and drinking nearly the entire bottle of water, I felt better. I chalked it up to being really dehydrated since there was no way the pill could kick in that fast.
Satisfied, he returned to the kitchen, presumably to start getting something together for our dinner. I watched him walk away, feeling guilty for not having the energy to help. My eyelids had never felt heavier, so I let my head drop back on the couch to rest my eyes for a few seconds.
I came slowly awake as someone shook my shoulder. “Wes?” My eyelids fluttered open as Patsy’s face swam into view. He was wearing a wide grin. “Hey there, sleepy head,” he said.
The moment I realized where I was, I sat forward with a start as the sweet face hovering above mine came fully into focus. “Patsy?” I frowned, blinking away sleep as I looked around the semi-dark living room which was now filled with the heavenly scent of fresh baked goods. My stomach growled loudly as I reached up to scrub the sleep away from my face with both hands. The twinge in my bicep made itself known, though I could tell the painkiller had definitely taken the edge off.
“Come on. I heated up some Texas chili and made cornbread. I know yer starvin’ because my own stomach feels like my throat’s been cut.” He held a hand down to me the same way he’d done when he’d effortlessly hauled my ass out of the VW. I felt myself blush as I accepted the help. I hated feeling weak but I supposed it was normal, especially since I had pain medication in my system. And, if I was being honest, I really liked the way Patsy’s warm hand felt in mine. As soon as I was standing, he let go and pointed to a small table in his kitchenette. I sat down in one of the padded chairs while he returned to the stove. Thetable was stacked with more magazines and books, and I pushed them to the side, clearing a place for us both as I smiled to myself. One thing could be said about the Irishman. He was a sorry excuse for a housekeeper.
All thoughts of Patsy’s messiness fled when he walked over to the table carrying a rather large crockery-style bowl and a plate. He set them down in front of me and I gaped at the massive piece of cornbread he’d put on the side. The scent of warm baked goods made my stomach rumble again. The chili looked just as tempting. It was packed with several kinds of beans, cubed steak that looked fork tender, celery, and onions, all floating in a delectable tomato base that smelled smoky and downright heavenly. I looked up at him as he returned carrying portions for himself, joining me at the table.
“Shall we say grace?” he asked.
“Um, yeah, sure,” I said, feeling foolish as I’d been about to dig in.
“Two, four, six, eight, bog in, don’t wait.”
I must have looked slightly stunned because he grinned, a twinkle in his eye as he picked up his spoon, and said, “Eat up.”
I laughed. “God, Patsy, this smells amazing,” I said, sinking my own spoon into the chili. “Did you make this?”
He looked over at me, chewing the bite he’d shoveled into his mouth, then swallowing before he spoke. “Rex did. He’s the best cook on our team.”
“Rex?”
“Our resident Texan. His real name is Reese Monroe, but he likes to be called Rex. He’s six-six and built like a brick shithouse. He’s one of our Tac Team’s snipers. Give him a good rifle and he can hit the eye of a squirrel at a thousand meters.Off-duty, he proves to us that he’s the best bloody cook on the team. He’s an ‘expert pitmaster,’ whatever the feck that means.”
I chuckled then went back to enjoying the rich chili in front of me. I was convinced the title of best cook was an underestimation of Rex’s talent in the kitchen. The way he’d gotten the tender chunks of beef just right and somehow combined it with the other ingredients, proved the Texan hadn’t been bragging…he’d been right on the money.
“It’s delicious, Patsy,” I said around a bite of warm cornbread slathered with honey butter he’d set out on the table. It practically melted in my mouth. I hadn’t tasted food this good in months. “Thank you for the food. You were right. I didn’t realize how starved I really was until sitting down to this amazing meal.” We both sat back after finishing the food and I couldn’t help but sigh as I watched him scrape his bowl clean.
“Would ya like some more tea?” he asked.
I looked around the table. “We haven’t had any yet,” I said, feeling puzzled and wondering just how strong these painkillers were they’d given me.
Seeing my face, he laughed and amended it. “Din dins. Dinner. Tea is dinner or a cup of tea. Comes from high tea. It’s a wee bit confusin’ if yer not used to the way of it.”
I grinned and shook my head, patting my full stomach as I pondered the question. Normally, I worried about where my next meal was coming from, feeling blessed when I could find enough food to fill my belly each day. But tonight, the very thought of a second bowl of chili and more cornbread made me feel a little nauseated. It was probably from the pain pill that thankfully wasn’t as strong as I’d feared. I shook my head. “I don’t think I could eat another bite if I tried, Patsy.” I smiled at him and then reached across the table to take his hand. Hegripped mine, squeezing it gently as he returned my smile. “I don’t know how to thank you for your kindness today.”
“You’ve got to stop thankin’ me, Wes. It’s no bother.” He let go of my hand and scooted away from the table, reaching for our bowls. I beat him to the punch, picking up my dishes as I also stood.
