Page 23 of Monsters, Vows, and Growls
“That’s good,” I replied, trying not to show how much it meant to hear him say it. “Because that sandwich took three test runs and a two-hour debate with Evan over whether figs are pretentious.”
“They’reincredible,” he said, already reaching for the little container of oatcakes. “What is this one?”
“Oats, honey, lemon zest, and some grated hazelnut. The blackberry compote is in the jar.”
“You did all this for me?” he asked quietly.
I flinched. This line of questioning was becoming too intimate. “I did it for the restaurant.”
His eyes bored into me, telling me that he didn't believe a word I just said, but he didn’t press. He just poured us each a glass of sparkling water and said, “Well, the restaurant’s going to be unreal.”
The silence that followed was warm, wrapped in sunlight and a pine-scented breeze.
“This is my favorite spot in the Hollow,” he said after a while, glancing out at the view. “I used to come here after PT, when I needed to breathe.”
I glanced at him, caught off guard. “Why here?”
He looked over at me, his smile gentler now. “Because it’s where I came when I missed you the most.”
Oh, hell. There it was again. Thatfeeling.
My pulse stuttered, and all the carefully balanced professional boundaries I’d set unraveled like the edge of the napkin flapping in the breeze. This was no longer a menu test. This was me, sitting on a blanket, falling—again—for a man who once broke my heart so completely, I hadn’t known where to find the pieces.
And worse?
This time, I was doing it willingly, fully aware of what he was capable of.
I picked a crumb off my napkin, forced my voice to stay neutral, and said, “So… PT seems to have been successful for you.”
The moment of silence that followed was thick.Way to go, Ella, way to break the ice. I hadn't been looking at him when Iasked, but now I chanced a glance up—just a flick of the eyes—and found him watching me. He didn't look surprised or angry. Maybe a bit startled. Quietly, he said, “Yeah. Eventually. It took some time, though.”
My fingers still played with the poor napkin, pulling on it, balling it. “Your mobility—it’s… I mean, you move really well now.”
His smile was faint, a little sad. “That’s the nice way of asking if I’m still broken.”
“No,” I said quickly. “That’s not—I didn’t mean?—”
“I know,” he said, cutting me off gently. “I’m not offended.”
I let out a slow breath and watched a breeze stir the hem of the blanket, stalling for time while I made up my mind to continue on this dangerous path or change the subject.Well, in for a dime and all that…
“I wasn’t there,” I whispered, before I could talk myself out of it. “When it happened. I should’ve been, but I wasn’t.”
His brow furrowed. “Ells…”
“My mom had one of her mental fits,” I rushed out. “It was nothing, really, just her usual bullshit. It was the only time I ever missed a game. I thought—God, I thought I had time. I thought there would be so many more games. I missed one. Just one.” The old guilt assaulted me. How could I not have been there when he needed me the most?
Patrick was silent, and I read it like an accusation, so I kept going, “I found out when Carol called me. I picked up the phone, and she was screaming so loud I didn’t understand what she was saying at first.”
He nodded slowly. “She saved my life.”
I already knew that, but it seemed like this was something he needed to get off his chest.
“She was in the stands,” he said. “She saw me go down and knew something was wrong before the medics even got to me. She jumped the fence, screaming at the trainers to check my spine. The first guy thought I was just winded. Carol made sure they didn’t move me.” He smiled wistfully. "I watched the recordings, later… much later. She tackled Coach." Now he was chuckling, but I was willing to bet it had taken him years before he could chuckle about it. I had seen the same videos. Everybody had been there. Everybody had their cameras trained on the star football player. My stomach still turned, the memory of watching Patrick go down too fresh to join in his chuckles over Carol tackling Coach to the ground to stop him from removing Patrick's helmet. A feat that was later hailed as having saved his life.
“She called you and my dad from the ambulance,” he added. The amusement in his eyes from a second ago had been replaced by torment. We both knew he had left one fact out. Carol had called his dad because Patrick's mom was already dead at that point. Had been dead for three months. She and Patrick had been at the gym when she had suddenly keeled over. An aneurysm had ruptured in her brain. An aneurysm nobody knew about. A ticking time bomb in her head, a reminder of how fragile life could be. Patrick had taken it hard. He’d talked her into going to the gym with him, watched her collapse, and held her as she died.
That night, the family hadn't even recovered from the sudden shock of losing her. And they were all back at the hospital. Waiting for news on Patrick this time. Henry had been my rockwhen I should have been the one holding him up. Gabe and Carol had bickered as usual. At that memory, I couldn't stop myself—a small giggle escaped me, and Patrick looked at me, brows lifted in question.
