A long pause, then Patrick mumbled, “I-I mean… maybe… I don’t know yet.”
He was struggling. Derek could hear it in his voice—hewantedto keep the date. “I’ll tell you what,” Derek said. “Why don’t I let you know where I’ll be, and if you want to join me, that’d be great. But no pressure, okay? If you don’t show, I’ll understand. No hard feelings. I promise.” He let out a shaky breath. “Sound good?”
“Yeah,” Patrick whispered.
“Okay, then.” Derek gave him the name of the restaurant and the time he’d be there. “If you need to get a hold of me for any reason, my number is 555 3001. Did you get all that?”
Patrick quietly cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I-I wrote it down.”
“Okay.” Derek sighed. “So, um, maybe I’ll see you later. If not… it was really nice meeting you and… and take care of yourself.”
Silence hung on the line for a moment. “Thank you… and you, too.”
Derek smiled small as an unidentified ache wormed through his heart. “Thanks.”
. . .
Patrick was shaking from head to toe by the time the call ended. He moved to the bed on trembling legs that gave out and landed him on the mattress on his butt. The paper with the scribbled info was clutched in one hand, his phone in the other. He could barely read his own shaky handwriting but didn’t need to—every word Derek spoke was seared into his brain.
His breath shuddered up his throat as his heart raced erratically and he couldn’t calm it down.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way—he wasn’t supposed to leave it up toPatrick.
Derekwas supposed to call if off—or not callat all.
Patrick squeezed the paper in his fist, the shakes hitting harder. He thought about calling Brian for support and advice… but knew what he would say.
And you don’t want to hear it.
Scooting back on the bed, Patrick lay down and draped his arm over his eyes. Tears drained down his temples and his chest hitched.
Please, Lord… help me… give me strength.
He choked on a sob as thoughts of Derek invaded his mind… and drowned out his prayers.
