“I take it Patrick has literary skills?”
“God, Row. He’s... he... Lord, I feel like I know him better through his letters than all the months we’ve spent in each other’s company. I know what makes him happy or sad, or what his favorite foods are, and what makes him laugh out loud. What he thinks of his family and ours. How much Nan helped him. He... damn, I don’t want to ever transgress his privacy, but he told me some childhood stories. Some made me laugh, and... several made me cry.”
“Will you give him one more chance? You love him. He clearly loves you.”
“I want to run to him. I want him to wrap his arms around me and never let go. I want to tell him that I still love him.”
“But?” Rowan asked.
River stared at her sister. Describing her inner turmoil was difficult at best. “But? There is really only one but. He destroyed me that night.” River blinked rapidly to stem the tears.
“Bullshit, River.” Rowan’s harsh expletive got her attention. Rowan slammed her palm flat against her desktop, making River jump. “He didnotdestroy you. Hehurtyou. Terribly. He did not, however,destroyyou. You are stronger than that. Bran didn’t destroy our sister, and Patrick sure as hell didn’t do that to you.
“I vote, well, if I get a vote,” Rowan raised her brows at River in question. When River nodded yes, she continued. “I vote you give him another chance. I also vote you writehima letter. Explain your feelings. How he made you feel. How you want to feel. What you need from him and what you’re willing to give him in return. Write it all down, River. You just said you know him better now than you ever did before. Give him a chance toknowyou.”
River was shocked. Rowan was, well, wow, she was right. She didn’t want to give up on a possible future with Patrick. A letter, though? “A letter? Do you really think?—”
“I do.”
“But... but what would I say in it?” Panic. This definitely felt like panic.
“It sounds like Patrick simply writes what he feels. What he’s doing. What he thinks about. And, I assume he thinks of you. A lot. If your blushes and heavy breathing are anything to go by, his thoughts aren’t purely platonic.”
River’s tension eased. “You are a real asshole sometimes, Row.” Rowan shrugged.
“I’ll write it before we leave the office and before I chicken out.”
“I’ll drop it off before we meet Josh.”
28
Dad and Patrick decided to have dinner in tonight. The sports channel played on the flat screen behind the bar on the ground floor, where they sat on comfortable bar stools. Patrick swiveled his chair to look more closely at his dad who was nursing his drink while staring moodily at the bar’s woodgrain.
“Dad.” Once Patrick had his father’s attention, he wasn’t sure he wanted it. His father seemed lost, and that was alarming. He wished Bran were here, but he and Raven were having a quiet dinner with Nan and Mr. Dunn. Taking a deep breath, Patrick went for it. “Are you in love with Rowan?”
If looks could kill... “Never ask me about her again.” Dad’s voice was so low, so angry, Patrick was momentarily thrown by its intensity. If the tumbler in his grip wasn’t made from heavy crystal, it would be in shards with the white-knuckled grip his dad currently strangled it with.
“I thought we could ask each other anything. You know my secrets and all my fuckups. Why can’t you tell me something as simple as whether you’re interested in a woman?” Good Lord, his dad had an intense stare. Ball shriveling. Pat watched several emotions cross his stoney face— anger, frustration, defeat. With a sigh, he stopped his attempted tumbler murder, letting the glass go entirely so he could rub his palms over his jean-clad thighs.
“I don’t like to discuss my... personal... my... Christ! Women. I don’t like to discuss them.”
“Not a huge newsflash, Dad. Bran and I aren’t toddlers, however. We’ve known some of the women you’ve slept with over the years. We never asked you about them because they weren’t important to you. Or we didn’t think they were.”
“They were not,” he huffed, crossing his arms across his massive chest defensively.
“So?”
“So, fucking what, Son?”
Patrick groaned in frustration. A normal occurrence when talking to his father. “So,Dad, Rowan isn’t someone you’re interested in for casual sex. Do you love her, and if you do, then why in the hell are you doing your damnedest to keep her at arm’s length?” Since he was on a roll, he finished with, “You’ve been different for months. Bran and I have both noticed. I’m asking you now because it looks like you’re going to continue ignoring your feelings. Bébhinn taught me a lot of things these last few weeks, but her biggest lesson was not to hide from feelings. Good, bad, scary, or sad.”
Dad could barely answer through his locked jaw. He was angry. Really angry. No one liked to be confronted. Patrick didn’t say anything else. They stared at each other another minute before Dad broke the silence by slamming his hand down on the bar top, rattling their glasses.
Patrick was beginning to think he’d royally screwed up by asking, but finally... finally, he answered, and it was like watching a dam break under pressure.
“She is a young woman, Patrick. Averyyoung woman! I am twice her age, for fuck’s sake. More than twice! Jesus, Patrick, what kind of man would I be if I pursued a woman so young? Younger than my own children.” He went silent, shaking his head as if he disgusted himself.
“You only hurt yourself and Row by treating her like you do. You are possessive as fuck over her, and you know it. Look at what I did to River. I warned her not to date anyone even though I had no plans of dating her myself. I was so selfish, and I hurt her! I hurt the woman I love. Do you not see that you’re doing the same thing?”
