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Patrick’s gaze darts to my crotch before offering a disgruntled scoff. “Jesus, Anthony. Please tell me you’re not so egotistical that you’re getting off on your own work.”

I grin and turn away from him, shoving my hand in my boxers to adjust myself. “Not quite. You can blame Kali Cooper for this.”

“Did something happen between you two?”

“Not exactly.” I glance over my shoulder at my brother, who’s leaning against the wall with his arms folded. “Barely anything.”

“Barely anything, but enough for you to be wanking off in your art studio?”

“I wasn’t wanking,” I reply, turning back to face him. “I was thinking.”

“You were thinking about Kali and got a hard-on?” Patrick clarifies. “You’re in trouble.”

“Maybe, but I’m not mad about it.”

Patrick nods. “I figured as much. Whatever you two are playing at, promise me you’ll be smart about it.”

“You are such a dad,” I sigh.

Patrick’s brow furrows. “You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

“I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

“I know you’re not.” Patrick straightens up from the wall. “I’m just saying that you’re my brother and Kali is Hazel’s best friend-”

“And you’re worried I’m going to fuck it up.” My heavy words hang in the air between us. We both know that my calling card in life has been to screw things up. I wonder how often he believes in the good in me or if he secretly wonders when I’ll break down and ruin everything for him again.

“That isnotwhat I meant.” Patrick’s voice is cold steel as he glares at me. “I meant it’s a small circle and things have the potential to get messy. I want you to protectyourself,Anthony. Your wellbeing is all I care about.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t spiral out of control and ruin our lives again.”

Patrick steps forward, closing the gap between us swiftly. “I don’t think that about you, and I don’t want you thinking that about yourself either,” Patrick orders. “You have made tremendous progress and showed remarkable restraint. I trust you implicitly. Understood?”

Patrick’s eyes are heated with promise as he stares me down and I can’t help but falter. He’s stopped doing our regular check-ins. He doesn’t demand to know where I’m going or when I’m coming home anymore. I believe he trusts me.

“Okay, okay,” I say, shoving him lightly in the shoulder. “I hear you loud and clear,dad.”

Patrick steps back and visibly exhales, his gaze falling back to the mandala art piece. “This piece is going to be beautiful.”

I stand back to take in what I’ve done so far, and it only reaffirms my initial assumption. Gluing these pieces together is going to take a shitload of time. “Thanks.”

“Is it a new design?”

“Yep.” I wipe dust off my hands with a rag as I step back. “Haven’t figured out how it’s all going to come together yet, but I’ll get there.”

Patrick’s eyes narrow, his gaze trailing over the swirls and lines of the wood I’ve cut and moulded. Not much rattles me these days, but his curious eyes seeing new pieces of art for the first time always sends heat up my neck. “Beautiful. Is it for anyone in particular?”

“Nah, just keeping my hands busy.”

The words roll off my tongue so effortlessly, I almost believe them.

Patrick nods, seemingly satisfied with my answer and turns to leave the workshop. “Maria’s bringing paella over in an hour. Will you be joining us?”

“For paella? Hell yes.”

“Great. When she asks you who you’re making this piece for, make sure you double down on your lying face. That was an abysmal effort.” Patrick walks out the door without looking back.

He knows me too well.