Page 19

Chapter nineteen

Patrick

2:30a.m.

Five messages.

No reply.

I pick up my phone again, unlock the screen, scroll through the unanswered messages, even though I know every word by heart now.

Miss you.

Hey, you okay?

Levana?

Just checking in.

Can you text me back? Let me know how you are, please?

Nothing.

My phone hits the table with a clatter.

I genuinely had to leave.

From the minute Levana was really in my life, I started working from home. It just made sense. That’s what I told myself anyway. That’s what I told my boss, too. Spun some story about feeling burned out, about needing space to focus. I promised I’d be just as productive. Said it wouldn’t last forever.

He didn’t question it. Why would he? I’ve always been reliable, never one to slack off. I’d earned the benefit of the doubt.

Working from home let me rearrange my days—reshuffle my schedule, tweak my breaks, quietly scale back until I was barely scraping the minimum. Doing just enough to keep up appearances.

But they’ve started to notice I’ve been slipping.

And I can’t lose this job. I’m the only real support we’ve got.

So I had to come back, just for a bit. Handle a few things.

But then, I got caught up in home stuff. One thing snowballed into another, and I didn’t make it back.

And now, she isn’t replying.

No text. No call. No read receipt.

Has she decided that’s it?

Did I break some invisible rule?

Am I too much? Too intense?

Does she not want me around anymore?

I start pacing, biting at the edge of my thumb like it’ll keep the thoughts at bay.

I glance at my phone. Nothing. Check the signal. Refresh the screen. Still fucking nothing.

I’d rush over there, but the girls haven’t been sleeping too well, and Mara desperately needs the help when they wake up.

But you need to go. You need to fix this.

“You’re still obsessing over her?”

Her voice slices straight through me.

I freeze.

Don’t turn around. Don’t give her the satisfaction.

“It’s getting pathetic now, Patrick.”

The stairs creak and I give in, turning to face her. She’s standing at the bottom of them in her robe, face tight with irritation, arms crossed over her chest like she’s sick of me. Sick of this whole situation.

“She’s slipping away. She’s not meant for us,” she says.

“She’s not slipping away,” I mutter. “She just needs some time.”

“Time for what?” Mara sneers. “For Elliot to keep filling her head with shit? For her to wake up and realise you’re a goddamn joke?”

“It’s not like that.”

“It’s exactly like that,” she fires back. “And you know it.”

I shake my head, nails biting into my palms. “I need her.”

“ We need you !” she shouts, voice cracking now. “You think this is just about her? You’re so wrapped up in your own bullshit you’re forgetting what matters!”

“I’m not forgetting. I’m doing this because of what matters!” I shout, my own voice breaking in my throat.

She narrows her eyes and sighs. “What are you going to do?”

I shake my head, chest tight and burning. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Mara’s face twists. “You’ve pricked the condoms, you’ve been feeding her Clomid for what, two months now?”

I nod.

“So let’s think about that too. Jesus, Patrick. Do you remember how I was when I took Clomid for the girls?” She lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You’re lucky I didn’t fucking kill you half the time, and that was with you by my side, being helpful. Levana’s clearly spiralling right now, and Elliot’s right there, in her ear making everything so much worse.”

“I know,” I mutter, dragging a hand across my jaw. “I know. I’m doing what I can, but it’s just not working.”

“So what’s the next step?

I shake my head, fingers digging into my scalp like I can claw my thoughts out. “I don’t know—I don’t— I can’t—”

“Get rid of Elliot.” Her voice slides under my skin like a needle.

I stop breathing for a second. “What?”

“Get. Rid. Of. Elliot,” she says again, slower this time, drawing out each syllable.

“I can’t… I can’t kill him.” The words feel clumsy and stupid the second they leave my mouth.

“Hell, Patrick. When did I say kill him?” she says, rolling her eyes like I’m an idiot. “I’m not saying you need to put a bullet in his head. I’m saying you need to be smarter than this.”

My tongue’s as dry as sandpaper. “What do you mean?”

“You want her to see what he’s really like?” Mara’s smile is tight, sharp. “Then show her . Give her a reason to kick him out. You can’t be subtle anymore. Your words aren’t doing enough. You need to give her a real reason to stop trusting him, so we can have her.”

My pulse is pounding so hard my teeth ache.

“I don’t know how,” I mutter.

“Yes, you do,” she says. “You’re just not thinking hard enough.”

I close my eyes and try to think, try to force the noise in my head to settle down.

I keep seeing Elliot’s smug face. The way Levana laughs at his jokes. The way he leans in close when he talks to her, like he’s already claimed her. Like I’m not even there.

He’s in the way.

“If she thinks… if she thinks he…” I trail off.

I can feel the plan starting to come together in my head. The idea rooting itself in my spine, curling around my thoughts like barbed wire.

“Just make sure you don’t fuck it up,” Mara says, stepping back toward the stairs. “Because if you lose her, Patrick… you’ll have nothing left.”