Chapter Six
“Did you text Dinah?” Will paws through a stack of Good Works contracts and papers he’s brought along for the trip on the private jet. They’ve reached cruising altitude, and the pilot has given the okay for them to relax.
“Yep. I texted her this morning.” Patrick closes his eyes and hopes the Xanax he’s popped kicks in soon. He hates heights and flying in particular. Worse, this trip is going to be ridiculously long. Why didn’t he and Jenny choose a closer location? Like, say, within driving distance? North Dakota is surely perfectly nice this time of year.
“And?” Will prompts.
“And the adoption is going through for Eric.”
“That’s great! Dinah and Phil must be ecstatic.”
“They are.” Patrick sits up straighter and glances at Will, outlined by the sun through the window. “Jane is upset, though, because she doesn’t understand why they can’t adopt her too.”
“Let me guess. Her bio-mom keeps pulling that same last-minute crap?”
“Months without contact and then, right before child abandonment laws kick in, she shows up.”
“Evil.”
“She loves her daughter,” Patrick mutters. “But not enough to leave her for good.”
Patrick feels the echo of his own family pain rise around them. His father was an alcoholic who never got over his mother’s death. He’d used Patrick’s talent at the piano to earn money for bottles and to pay the rent. When that wasn’t enough, he’d been willing to let Patrick prostitute himself.
That was when Patrick turned himself in to Child Protection Services and ended up a foster kid with Phil and Dinah. Bad memories taste like chalk and he swallows them down with a bitter grimace.
Finally, the moment passes and Will says, “I hope you gave Dinah, Phil, and the kids my love.”
Patrick shrugs. “Why would I? They know you love them.”
Will rolls his eyes but laughs softly. Then he turns to peer out the window at the fat clouds passing by.
So long as Patrick doesn’t look down, or think about the fact that only lift, thrust, and drag are keeping them alive right now, he does okay. In fact, the clouds out the window almost make things better. Like he could step out onto them and have a nap in the sun.
He frowns. Will’s fanciful thinking is wearing off on him. Or maybe it’s the Xanax.
“So that nurse was let go?” Will asks quietly. “I heard you on the phone with Don earlier. It’s only been, what, three days? They found the evidence quickly.”
“Yep. I was right, of course. I always am.”
“So what does that mean for her?”
“Charges are being pressed.” Patrick wrinkles his nose. “It’s out of my hands now.”
Will nods and sighs. “People make such bad choices sometimes.” He shivers slightly, and Patrick checks to see if the air vent above them is open too far. “What did she do with the drugs she didn’t administer to your patient?”
“She was hoarding what she could get to take it out to the rez. Indian Health Services is crap.”
“I know. But let’s not get into the American government’s broken promises to the Native peoples today. It’s too depressing and we’re on vacation.”
Patrick frowns. “That’s right. Vacation. Just you and me for ten days.” He takes hold of Will’s hand. “You’ll be sick of me by then.”
“Never.” Will’s brown eyes take on a gleam and Patrick’s heart flips over. He loves when those eyes shine. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?”
“No.”
“I know it’s somewhere warm since you packed my summer clothes.” Will grins and pokes him in the side. “Are you really going to make me wait for the details until we land?”
Patrick shrugs.
Will unbuckles and launches a full assault on Patrick, tickling him, uselessly—since he’s not ticklish—and laughing. “Tell me. Tell me now.”
Patrick grips his hands and kisses him quiet.
The pilot interrupts what is undoubtedly leading to their induction into the Mile High Club by saying, “Mr. Patterson, Dr. McCloud, I hope you’re comfortable in the back. We’ll land to refuel at LAX, and then head directly to Kona International on the Big Island of Hawaii. If you need us, just give us a shout through the intercom buttons.”
Patrick sighs as Will whoops. There goes that surprise.
“Hawaii?” Will wriggles down to his knees and insinuates himself between Patrick’s. “I’ve never been.”
“I know.”
“I’ve always wanted to go!” Will’s grin makes all the effort he’s put in worthwhile.
“I know.”
“Aw, you love me.”
Patrick squirms in his chair, somehow embarrassed even though he’s wearing the wedding ring that proves his ridiculously gross love for and utter devotion to Will. “Of course I love you,” he gripes. “You’re all—” he waves at Will’s face. “Like that.”
Will grins like the sun. “I love you too. What’s the plan? Where are we staying?”
“The Big Island for six days and then Kauai for four.”
“That’s amazing!”
Patrick taps at his left leg and frowns out the window, worry that Will might end up disappointed after all welling up. “I did a lot of research. It’ll be romantic. Jenny double-checked me and said you’ll like it.”
Will laughs. “Dr. McCloud, I do believe you deserve a midflight blow job.”
Patrick’s dick agrees, and he shifts in his seat. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
“Oh, I’m happy,” Will says, working open Patrick’s belt buckle and shifting open his shorts. “And I’m going to show you just how happy.”
Hours later, Will watches Patrick sleep. He’s adorable with his head tilted at an awkward angle, his mouth hanging open, and drool sliding from the corner of his lips. Will huffs a laugh. He’s still got it pretty bad if a drooling, awkward, rumpled Patrick counts as adorable. And yet his heart feels like it’s made of Play-Doh—squishable and soft—as he studies Patrick’s sleeping face.
He leans back in his seat and turns toward the window. They’ve been flying through an endless swath of blue above and blue below ever since they left the coast of California. He wishes he could sleep, but his mind keeps racing.
Thoughts of the ten days ahead, wondering where they’ll be staying, and excitement at the fact that Patrick’s phone is turned off—off!—and will stay that way for their entire trip are all tempered by the return of the usual clinging, tugging guilt.
He remembers when he and Ryan first started dating, how they’d planned to go to Hawaii together one day. Even though he hasn’t kept up with Ryan at all since their acrimonious and nasty breakup, he knows Ryan never got a chance to go.
And he also knows that’s not his fault. More than that, he knows he wouldn’t change anything; he wouldn’t go back and be with Ryan for anything in the world.
But his chest still hurts to think of the man he’d once loved—sick love or not—fading away in a hospital bed. To know that the heart he’d listened to on the rare occasions Ryan let him snuggle in close will soon stop beating forever.
A cluster of clouds breaks up the endless blue, and Will studies their shapes, trying to make sense of his feelings.
Patrick deals with death all the time, and Will’s not sure how he does it. Because every time Will faces it, he’s thrown for a loop. How does someone go from being alive to being dead? It’s inconceivable and yet it’s the only thing anyone can count on. It’s a fact of life.
“Why are you radiating bad juju?” Patrick asks.
Will whips around to find Patrick wiping away his drool. “That’s a racist term disrespecting the beliefs of indigenous West African spirituality.”
Patrick shrugs. “That doesn’t answer why you’re radiating it.”
Will can’t stop the smile. “I’m just thinking.”
“About?”
“About how lucky I am to be going to Hawaii.”
Patrick’s blue eyes sharpen. “And…?”
“And about how other people aren’t so lucky. Some people never get to go to the places they’ve dreamed of visiting. Some people get sick. Sometimes they die.”
Patrick snorts and unbuckles his seat belt, bending to rummage in the cooler of sandwiches and colas at their feet. He comes up with an egg salad sandwich and a Sprite for himself, as well as a PB&J and Coke for Will.
“Why is our romantic getaway inspiring such morbid thoughts?”
Will unwraps the sandwich and saves himself from answering by taking a large bite. Patrick buckles up again and eats his egg salad like he didn’t just put away a chicken wrap an hour ago.
Just when Will thinks he’s avoided revealing what he knows about Ryan, Patrick finishes his snack, washes it down with the last of his Sprite, and fixes Will with his probing eyes. “So?”
Sighing, Will takes a sip of Coke and shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”
“What’s the problem? You wanted to go to Cabo? Or Baton Rouge?”
Will laughs.
“You wanted to see the great city of Cincinnati for our honeymoon? You had a hankering for London? Paris in the springtime? Even though it’s still summer?” Patrick’s eyes flicker vulnerably. “Did I screw it up?”
“No!” Will grabs Patrick’s hand and squeezes. “No. Hawaii is perfect. It’s exactly what I’d hoped for when I let myself be even a little bit specific in my fantasies.”
“Then what?”
Will wraps up the rest of his sandwich and caps the cola carefully. He clears his throat. “Well, Caitlin told me something before she left town and I can’t shake it out of my head.”
“Caitlin,” Patrick says slowly.
“Yeah. She said Hartley Kills Enemy was in town recently.”
Patrick’s lips purse. “I see.”
“And then she told me the rest.”
Patrick keeps his gaze on Will but doesn’t say anything.
“I’m not angry at you,” Will says reassuringly.
Patrick’s brows drop low. “Why would you be?”
“Because you didn’t tell me?”
“Why would I tell you?” Patrick throws up his hands. “It’d just make you sad and, look, I was right. Shocker.” He shakes his head, wadding up the egg salad wrapper and tossing it into the cooler. He takes Will’s half-eaten sandwich and puts it back too.
“I am sad. I wish I didn’t know so I wouldn’t have to think about it.” Will’s gut tightens. “Does that make me a bad person?”
“No. There’s nothing you can do to help him.”
“I could take care of his hospital bills at least. So he doesn’t have to worry about that.”
Patrick waves that away. “I called the hospital he’s staying in when I first heard about it on The Hurting Times. His care is covered.”
“How?”
Patrick raises a brow. “I have this thing called a salary and I’m allowed to do what I want with it.”
“I know. I just…really? You did that? For him? You don’t even like him.”
“I like you and I knew you wouldn’t want him getting less than quality care.” Patrick shrugs. “It’s handled. Now you don’t have to worry about that.”
Will’s throat grows tight. “Why are you so sweet?”
Patrick slings his arm around Will, dragging him into an awkward, seat belt-hampered hug. “Stop asking stupid questions. And for Pete’s sake, I’m not sweet. Ugh.”
Will laughs wetly and sighs against Patrick’s warm throat. “I love you.”
“I know,” Patrick barks. “We’ve covered all this. I love you. You love me. We’re on our honeymoon.” He gags a little like the whole thing is gross. “Let’s not belabor it.”
Will unbuckles his seat belt and kisses Patrick hard. When he’s breathless, he presses his forehead to Patrick’s and whispers, “No, but listen. I really, really love you.”
“I really, really know,” Patrick whispers back.
“Mr. Patterson, Dr. McCloud, we’ll be landing at Kona International in approximately twenty-five minutes. We caught a nice tail wind and we’re arriving a little early.” The captain’s voice speaks over Will’s reflexive, teary laughter.
“Buckle up,” Patrick says. “Safety first.”
With a grin of anticipation, Will does. They gaze out the window together, looking for the black lava rock and green of the Big Island of Hawaii to come into view.