Page 117

SIXTY-ONE
Patrick
Idrive Ryan back to Sojourn and drop him off. He doesn’t say anything else about what we talked about. He seems angry—which is totally normal for him these days—but he’s not telling me to go fuck myself, so I’ll take it as progress.
He doesn’t say a word until I pull up to the center and put the car in park. “Things not going good with your girl?” he says, hand poised on the door handle to open it. He’s never met Cari but he’s heard about her plenty. When he first came home, he was nearly catatonic. I spent a lot of time talking.
I consider telling him to mind his own fucking business but this is the first time since he’s been back he’s taken any sort of interest in… anything. “No.” I give him a one-word answer, because even though I don’t want to shut him down completely, I still don’t want to talk about it.
“She’ll come around,” he says, popping his door open. “I wouldn’t worry.”
“You think so, huh?” I shoot back, unable to keep the aggression out of my voice. “What makes you so sure?”
“Please.” Instead of challenged, Ryan seems amused. “Look at you,” he says with a sneer. “Fuckin’ Boston’s most eligible bachelor.” He shakes his head, raking his gaze over me. “Goddamn Captain America lookin’ motherfucker. Rich as God. Do-gooder, Mr. Save the World… plus, I’d bet that giant dick of yours still works just fine, so yeah—she’ll come around.” He laughs, the sound cold and humorless. “And if she doesn’t, there’s fifty more just like her, lining up to take her place.” He pushes his door open and climbs out, slowly, like an old man who doesn’t trust his own body to keep him upright.
Finally clear of the car, he uses his cane to push the door closed before stooping slightly, aiming his flat brown eyes in my direction. “If you’re looking for someone to feel sorry for you—keep looking. Because it sure as fuck ain’t gonna be me.”
I head back tothe office, stopping in just long enough to give the inspection paperwork to Jane and ask her if she’s seen or heard from Declan.
She hasn’t.
“If he comes by or calls, shoot me a text,” I tell her. I’m trying not to worry but I’m about 24-hours away from encouraging Con into hacking his brother’s cell phone. If he hasn’t done it already.
“Of course, Mr.—” Jane stops herself, brow slightly furrowed. “Patrick.” She says my name like it’s causing her real pain to use it.
“See—you called me Patrick and nobody died,” I tell her, giving her a smile that doesn’t sit well on my face. Since smiling seems to be a foreign concept to her, she doesn’t notice.
“I’ll inform you immediately if he checks in. I’ll also register and file your inspection paperwork, submit your permit application and I’ve rescheduled the inspection for the Turner property for Monday morning—is there anything else I can do?” She sounds eager, like the more shit I throw at her, the happier she is. It makes me wonder what kind of life she leads outside this place. I can’t help thinking it must be pretty fucking sad if she’s excited at the prospect of staying late to file paperwork.
Not that I have room to judge.
Dealing with Ryan and the business and my cousins’ bullshit on my own is wearing me thin. The fact that Cari wants me to bring her the painting she gave me when she left is the shit frosting on an enormous shit cake.
Like I’m supposed to go home, get it, take it to dinner with me. Sit there and bullshit my way through a five-course meal, knowing the end of things with her is locked in my trunk, just waiting to happen.
Fuck that.
“Yes,” I tell her, scooping my car keys off my desk. “Cancel my seven o’clock dinner. I’ve got something to take care of that can’t wait.”