“Then you understand why I didn’t.” I move to stand beside Addison. “I’m sorry for not respecting you and saying something. You deserved better than that. Know that I was locked down, and my right to communicate with people had been stripped. I lived as a prisoner in my own home for weeks.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. His eyes move between us.
“Since when do you know how to fight?” he asks.
“Since always. I just never had a reason to use it on you before.”
His mouth twitches. “You’re a dick.”
“Fuck you.”
Addison reaches for Patterson’s hand. “Are we okay?”
He looks at her for a long moment. Then he sighs and pulls her into a hug, squeezing tight before letting go.
“I’m still very pissed,” he says.
“I know.”
“At both of you.”
He looks at me and extends his hand. I take it. His grip is firm, harder than necessary.
“If you hurt her?—”
“I’d deserve it.”
Patterson holds the handshake a beat too long, his grip crushing mine. Then he lets go and steps back.
“I need time,” he says, turning away from us. “To process.”
“Pat—” Addison starts.
“I’m not asking.” He moves toward the door. “I’m telling you.”
“Take it. But don’t shut me out.”
He pauses with his hand on the knob, but doesn’t turn around.
“I’ll text you later,” he says.
The door shuts behind him. He doesn’t slam it, but it’s hard enough to make the point.
Addison stares at it for a long moment. When she turns to face me, her eyes are wet.
I cross to her and pull her into my arms. She resists for a second, then melts against my chest.
“He’ll come around,” I say.
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Your brother loves you.”
“Love doesn’t fix everything.” Her voice is muffled against my shirt. “What if we lose everyone for each other and this breaks us?”
I pull back enough to look at her. “It won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
