Page 2 of Trained Royal
“No, thank you.”
When the server left, Henry continued, “We need to get you out and about. We have Christian’s birthday party coming up, and aren’t you attending the Halloween charity auction at the end of the month?”
Patrick nodded, watching Henry cut up his toast. “I am attending both, yes. Did you decide on a gift for Christian?”
“Robert had a great idea. We’re making a photo album of him and Oscar in their Daddy and little roles. We have plenty of pictures we can use from the times we’ve been together. Robert said he’s going to make it into a scrapbook—with Naomi’s help—and make it special for him.”
“I’m sure he’ll love that. I still have no idea. I might have to ask Oscar to give me a clue.” He sipped his drink.
“You’ll never go wrong with something book-related.”
Patrick grimaced. “But that’s the easy option. I want something different.”
“Maybe some bookmarks or covers? I don’t know. I was wracking my brain trying to think of something before Robert’s idea.”
Patrick waved his hand. “I’ll find something.”
They finished breakfast, thankfully without returning to the two subjects Patrick had avoided. As they wandered in the direction of Henry’s rooms, silence descended. He knew Henry, and the others, were worried about him, but he couldn’t find it in him to explain to them. They were happy in their relationships, and Patrick felt like he was alone. Although Frederick was single, he had Damon, his best friend, by his side almost daily. Patrick had no one.
Suddenly, Henry stopped. “You can talk to me, you know? To any of us. I know you’re struggling with something, and I wish I knew what I was, but I know you like your privacy. I won’t push but talk to one of us. Please.”
Patrick sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. He was just as bad at keeping secrets as his brother was, but this wasn’t something that would harm him. “I’m fine. Honestly.”
“You’re not, but I know you won’t admit it.” Henry wrapped his arms around him and hugged him. “You’re my brother. I know you. But I also know you hate being pushed, so I won’t. Just remember what I said, okay?”
“I will.”
Henry stepped back, thumbing over his shoulder to his rooms. “I’ll catch you later.”
His brother disappeared, and Patrick understood without needing to see him that Henry was upset. Not with Patrick, but because he couldn’t help. This was something Patrick didn’t want help with. He needed to do it himself. Was that why Henry hadn’t told him of what he’d witnessed when he was thirteen years old? Had he thought he could handle it himself?
Pivoting on his heels, he retraced his steps, diverting down another hallway towards the gym they had recently installed at Patrick’s request. His excuse had been that he needed to work out his frustrations, which was true, but the real reason was something no one knew but him and one other person.
He entered the room they’d dedicated to changing and showering and changed into his workout clothes. He was early to their session, but he could warm up ready for when his companion joined him. Losing himself in the stretching of his muscles, he flinched and swiped his leg out behind him when someone grabbed his arm. The two of them fell to the floor in a heap, and Patrick rolled away and jumped into a crouch, facing his attacker.
He swore long and loud when he saw his bodyguard, Kieren, lying on the floor with a smirk on his face.
“Good reflexes,” Kieren said, climbing to his feet. “I wondered how long it would take you to act before you thought. Seems like your body and brain are working together—at least when you’re not focused on trying too hard.”
Patrick stood, his chest heaving as his lungs strained for air, both from the fright and the adrenaline coursing through him. “Bloody hell, Kieren! You scared the shit out of me!”
Kieren grinned, unrepentant. “That was the plan. I wanted to see how you reacted to something you weren’t expecting.” He wandered over to where they kept the pads for sparring. “We’re going to concentrate on your footwork today.”
Patrick groaned, resting his hands on his hips and dropping his head back. “Bloody feet.”
Kieren chuckled. “You did good just then, but we need to get your feet to cooperate with your brain.”
“Good luck with that,” he muttered.
“As you’re all warmed up, let’s get to it.” Kieren paused. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
The hopeful note in his voice raised Patrick’s hackles. “You know why I’m doing this,” he grated.
“I do, but I also know you don’twantto do this.”
Patrick spun around, stalking to the other side of the room and back again. “It’s a necessary evil.”
Kieren sighed and pulled on the boxing pads, clapping them together. “Start with the punches.”
