Page 6 of Patch's Bride
I swallow thickly and turn to her as I set my duffel bag down on the floor. “I don’t know how to thank you for taking me in like this. We don’t have any family in the area. In fact, with my mother being raised in care and most of my stepfather’s extended family going no contact with him over the years, family members are thin on the ground in my world.”
“Your mother was well aware of that fact and that’s why she made me your godmother. It’s also the reason she made me promise to look out for you if anything ever happened to her. Don’t you worry about anything. If Patch doesn’t want to help you, we’ll figure something out.”
I give her a tired smile. “You’re acting more like a fairy godmother than a plain godmother right now.”
She laughs and pulls an extra blanket from the closet, draping it across the bed. Finally, she looks at me with an approving expression on her face. “I’m no fairy godmother. I am a smart, resourceful woman. Between the two of us, we can logic our way out of this situation if we keep our wits about us.” Taking a step back, she adds, “Get some sleep and we’ll talk about this again in the morning.”
The moment the door shuts behind her, my knees buckle. I sink down to the floor and just sit there for a long moment,trying to wrangle my emotions under control. Coming here for help was the most embarrassing moment of my life.
I eventually get up, strip down to my underwear and crawl into Solomon’s bed. It’s even more comfortable than it looks. When I turn off the bedside lamp, soft moonlight shines through the window, calming me. My mind turns to all the stories I heard about human trafficking. The only conceivable reason the other person is willing to forgive my stepfather’s debts in exchange for me is because he plans to use me to make money. I don’t want to think too much on what that would look like, so I focus on the poster on the wall.
As I’m drifting off to sleep, I think of Solomon’s always serious demeanor, the way he patiently helps others without being asked and those rare occasions when he full on smiled at me. A genuine smile transforms his face from ruggedly handsome to movie star gorgeous. It’s breathtaking to see that transformation take place in real time. This is the moment I realize I’ve had a childhood crush on this man for years. The thing is, I’m not a child anymore.
Chapter 3
Patch
My phone wakes me from a dead sleep. My first thought is that it’s a call from my practice’s after-hours answering service. Rolling over in bed, I grope for my phone on the bedside table. My mind is already racing with possibilities. I hope Jake hasn’t taken a turn for the worse.
When I look at the phone, I see it’s not the after-hours service. It’s my mother. I jolt to a sitting position and answer her call.
“You’re calling early. Is everything alright?”
Her voice is more serious than usual. “I need you to come home. Right now.”
I’m sitting up in bed trying to focus on the conversation at hand. “Tell me what’s going on?”
“Just come home. We have a situation here and we need your help.” Before I can press her for more information, she hangs up.
My mother never talks like that, with an edge of controlled panic to her voice. I jump into action. I take the shortest shower humanly possible and pick through one of my drawers, pulling out something presentable to wear. If my folks are having an emergency, there’s no telling where I might end up today. I’m out the door in under five minutes and take a shortcut to their house.
I try to keep my cool, but my mind is working through dozens of crisis scenarios and how I should handle them. If something has happened to my dad then surely, she would have said something. That’s what the rational part of my brain is telling me, but by the time I arrive and pull my Harley into their driveway I fully expect to find one of them in a medical crisis. What I don’t expect to see is my parents in a state of controlled distress and the daughter of my mom’s best friend sitting at their breakfast table looking sick to her stomach.
Beth’s mother died a few months ago. I’ve not seen her in years, I only knew about Mrs. Jefferies dying because my mom mentioned it in passing. But something about Beth catches my notice. It’s in her expression. I know she’s grieving, but this is something else.
I try to bring down the anxiety with an icebreaker. “The doctor’s in the house. Tell me where it hurts.”
Her eyes fly up to mine and for a brief second, she’s amused. Then she glances away, looking distressed again and I kick myself for my flippant attitude.
My mother frowns at me, but my old man is the one who speaks up. “So, after all these years of being the most serious son in the known universe, you’ve decided to get a sense of humor.”
I pull out a kitchen chair, drop down into it and deadpan back, “It’s called having a bedside manner when doctors do it.”
My mother speaks up as she loads my plate with pancakes and pushes it across the table. “I’m sure they taught you that in medical school. And as fascinating as that is, we’ve called you here for another reason.”
I dump syrup on my pancakes, suddenly ravenous, and take a gigantic bite. “Do you know that when you’re hungry food tastes a hundred times better than it actually does?”
My mom flashes me a frown and before she can get worked up, I explain, “That means your normally delicious pancakes taste like the nectar of the gods this morning.”
She smiles, but then her expression turns serious. “I like this new personality trait of yours, but we need to talk about Beth.”
“Is this another attempt to set me up? You ambush me with breakfast and a pretty woman,” I joke.
But when I look up instead of smiles, I see my mom and dad looking serious. Beth is looking at her plate, her eyes steadfastly refusing to meet mine.
What the hell?
I point to Beth with my fork and make a tight swirling motion. “Look, I appreciate that you’re both trying to look out for me. But if this is why you dragged me out of bed at the crack of dawn today, I need you to know it is not happening.”
