Hesitant Hearts

by Jerry Cole

“Patrick,” Isaac breathed.

  “What the fuck, Isaac,” Patrick snapped. “For the second time?”

  “I know you’re mad,” Isaac started.

  “No shit.”

  “Would you let me finish?” Isaac snapped, effective in shutting Patrick up.

  Patrick glared down at his desk, ignoring the startled look on Eddie’s face. Patrick didn’t have time for this right now. He was behind on work and he really didn’t need Isaac’s current ability to piss him off at the drop of a text.

  Isaac sighed. “I know I promised I’d be there, and I do want to see you, you know I do, but my mom needs me to come to her place for tonight.”

  Jesus. Patrick pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t get mad when it was Sarah, but he still felt the hurt, the fear that Isaac was pulling away, however slowly. “Then you should go.”

  “I’m sorry,” Isaac said again. It was really starting to lose its meaning where he was concerned.

  Patrick leaned back against his chair, staring out at the skyline of Manhattan. “I’ll just have to tell on you to Natasha.”

  Isaac’s laugh was watery, and Patrick felt guilt war with the anger in his stomach. God, this was so fucked up and he didn’t even know how to fix it. “I really will make it up to you.”

  “So you keep saying,” Patrick said gently, because he wasn’t trying to make Isaac hurt. He just wanted Isaac to realize how much he was hurting. “Don’t make a promise you’re gonna cancel.”

  “I won’t,” Isaac promised. “This weekend is dinner at my mom’s anyway.”

  Patrick found himself grinning at that. It had been a while since he’d seen her. It helped that Isaac was endearing around his mother and had a tendency to get extra touchy-feely in his mother’s house. It combined for feelings Patrick couldn’t ever remembering having about his own childhood house, or with his family.

  “You’ll be there?” Isaac pressed, apparently taking Patrick’s silence as hesitation.

  “Of course,” Patrick said immediately. “I’m not having your mom call me to yell.”

  Isaac laughed gently. “You know she’d never. She loves you.”

  “I know,” Patrick said, because he did. Love was maybe strong, but Sarah did like him, went out of her way to make him feel welcome, and he couldn’t deny that he loved her just a little bit for it. It would have been so easy to resent her for hearing about his parents’ death and almost smothering him in affection.

  Touch-starved his therapist had told him once. Granted, he’d paid her a shitload of money to do so, but he had to believe at least some of what she was telling him.

  “All right, well, I’ll see you this weekend,” Isaac said.

  Patrick nodded even though Isaac couldn’t see him. “Yeah. See you soon.”

  Isaac hung up on the other end and Patrick sat for a moment, holding the phone to his ear, and staring out of the window.

  Eddie sighed. “Trouble in paradise?”

  Patrick didn’t want to answer, but he turned back to his desk, dropping his phone next to the laptop and shaking his head. “No. Apparently not.”

  There was a pointed silence from the other side of the room, but Patrick wasn’t about to offer up anything about his relationship. It wasn’t Eddie’s business, but it didn’t help that Patrick couldn’t say for sure what was going on.

  “Everything’s peachy,” Patrick muttered, ignoring the coding he still had to do and bringing up his email instead. He needed to take out some of his frustration on idiots and not fuck up code because he couldn’t concentrate properly. Of all the things he had considered when starting a relationship, his work suffering hadn’t been one. He’d always assumed that things with Isaac couldn’t affect his job, however naive that point of view was in hindsight.

  Eddie stopped typing. “Wanna talk it out with someone?”

  “No offence,” Patrick said. “But that’s the last thing I ever wanna do.”

  The only person Patrick wanted to talk it out with was Isaac and given the fact that they were having dinner with Sarah, it would make it difficult to catch Isaac on his own, but Patrick had to try. Patrick needed to know why Isaac was blowing him off so much – and if Isaac didn’t want to be with him, Patrick would end it.

  It was the only thing he could do.

  Chapter Twenty

  Patrick turned up at Sarah’s apartment block Sunday morning, before Isaac had told him to arrive. He could have asked Isaac to come meet him, but he’d been reluctant to ask, to have Isaac turn him down. He had his customary flowers, something he had never given up doing, and was dressed similar to the first time, jeans and a sweater – and a jacket because it was creeping closer to winter – and jogged up the steps to the apartment lobby.

  Buzzing up to the apartment was easy, and he knew the way by heart, even without Isaac, and wasn’t surprised to see Sarah standing outside, leaning against the wall, smiling down at him.

  “Morning,” he said.

  “Patrick, you’re early.” Sarah took the flowers, allowed the kiss to her cheek, and ushered him inside. “Isaac isn’t here yet. I thought you’d be arriving with him.”

  “I had a work thing,” Patrick lied, smooth and effortless, even though guilt pooled low in his belly. He didn’t like lying to Sarah. “Told him I’d meet him here.”

  Sarah put the flowers in water, and the dinner was already on the stove, so Patrick took a seat at the table and watched her. Perceptive, Sarah looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “How are things with you and Isaac?”

  “Great,” Patrick said, and they were, so it wasn’t exactly a lie. Their problems weren’t Sarah’s, and Patrick wasn’t about to share with her. She was Isaac’s mother, and Isaac would tell her if he wanted her to know.

  “You’re a good man, Patrick.”

  Patrick snorted, leaning back in his chair, and crossing his arms over his chest. “I know plenty of people that would disagree with that.”

  Sarah waved a hand, settling the vase of flowers in the center of the table. “They’re wrong,” she pressed.

  They lapsed into silence, Patrick not quite sure what to say in return, a large part of him wanting Isaac to show up and break the moment. Instead, Sarah checks on the dinner and then sits at the table with him, resting a hand on his forearm and squeezing. Patrick swallowed thickly, staring down at her hand, the wedding ring she still had on, the scar across her knuckles she’d said came from a close encounter with a knife. “I’m not sure I know how to be.”

  Sarah tilted her head, eyes wide and open. Patrick couldn’t meet her eyes but settled for looking at a point over her left shoulder – a calendar on the wall that had several dates marked off. It was too far for Patrick to make it out.

  “Patrick,” Sarah said, and Patrick snapped back to her, realizing he hadn’t been paying attention.

  “Sorry.”

  “I said,” Sarah continued, gently, “that you’re managing just fine.”

  “For now,” Patrick allowed. He opened his mouth to say something else, could see Sarah do the same, but the buzzer cut through the silence, and Sarah squeezed his arm again.

  “Hold that thought.”

  Patrick was nervous; Isaac was going to be here any moment, and yet he wanted to know what Sarah was going to say, wanted to keep talking to her without Isaac present. Maybe that had more to do with the fact that Patrick didn’t have a mother of his own, God, that was pretty pathetic. He shook it off, leaning back in the chair, tapping a finger on the wood of the table.

  Sarah was out in the hall, and Patrick frowned when he heard her make a noise of surprise. “Michael!”

  Dread settled in Patrick’s stomach and he grit his teeth against the urge to curse aloud. Isaac had brought Michael. Patrick wished he hadn’t arrived first; if he’d come late, he could have made some excuse, but now he was settled, and Sarah wouldn’t accept any excuse he came up with.

  Uncomfortable dinner was a go. Yay.

  Isaac’s voice settled over
Patrick’s shoulders like a blanket, and he blew out a breath, pushed himself to his feet. He hovered in the hall of the apartment, leaning against the doorjamb, hands in his pockets.

  Isaac was currently wrapped around Sarah, saying something that Patrick couldn’t hear. There was another figure hovering just out of sight and Patrick assumed that was Michael. Making small talk and pretending to like the guy was going to be fucking difficult. Not that Patrick could say for sure he was the reason Isaac was skipping out on him so much, but it was a safe bet, and Patrick had always been known to suffer jealousy.

  “Patrick,” Isaac said, and fuck, he sounded so warm and happy. His expression was pleased and loving, and Patrick could never stand strong in the face of that. He accepted the hug Isaac drew him into, allowed himself to be smothered and kissed. He had missed it, missed Isaac, and wasn’t that the most pathetic? “You’re early.”

  Patrick raised his eyebrows. “Well noted.”

  “Fuck off,” Isaac said, good-naturedly. His voice dropped. “I know this is usually our time, but Michael didn’t have anywhere to go, and–”

  “It’s all right,” Patrick said, cutting him off. It wasn’t all right, but Patrick wasn’t going to cause a scene in front of Sarah. “Can’t have him missing out on Sarah’s food.”

  “A good job I always cook so much,” Sarah said, ushering Michael inside and closing the door. “And thank you, Patrick.”

  Michael looked happier than he had at the bar, his hair combed neatly, and dressed in slacks and a button down. Attractive, in an Isaac kind of way, and ripped like Isaac. Any other time. Which Patrick really had to stop thinking when he was taken, but whatever, no harm no foul if he didn’t try and sleep with the guy. Which, was actually uncomfortably close to Patrick’s inner demons currently making themselves known, so he shook off the thoughts.

  “Didn’t expect to see you here,” Michael said.

  He’s not being a dick, Patrick had to remind himself. “I come with Isaac every other Sunday.”

  An expression Patrick couldn’t pin down crossed Michael’s face and he shot a look at Isaac, who didn’t seem to notice. He still had an arm around Patrick’s shoulders, and Patrick leaned into him as Michael and Sarah moved around them, a small smile on Sarah’s face as she winked at Patrick, leaving Patrick and Isaac in the hall.

  “I am sorry,” Isaac said, resting a hand on Patrick’s neck. “I know I’ve been a dick.”

  “It’s all right,” Patrick said again, and this time meant it. He leaned up for another kiss.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Not long.” Patrick peered around Isaac’s shoulder to see Michael and Sarah bent over the table, setting the cutlery out. “We missed setting the table.”

  Isaac snorted, touching his forehead to Patrick’s. It should have been comforting, confirmation that Isaac wanted him – and only him – but still the voice in the back of Patrick’s head was telling him not to buy it, that something was still going on.

  It only grew louder as the dinner went on.

  Sarah and Michael clearly had a rapport, and why wouldn’t they? Michael had been Isaac’s friend for decades, and Patrick was the new kid on the block. It shouldn’t have galled as much as it did, but God, Patrick was a petty man and he let the words wash over him.

  Patrick spoke when he was asked a question, when Isaac and Sarah both teased him, but otherwise he maintained his silence, trying to keep his smile even and honest. Michael included him in the conversation, so Patrick couldn’t even get truly mad at him.

  “I could tell you a shit ton of stories,” Michael said, looking at Sarah sheepishly. “Sorry, Sarah.”

  “Please,” Sarah said. “Soldiers swear all the damn time.”

  Michael snorted laughter, smothering his mouth, and Patrick ducked his head to hide his own grin.

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” Isaac said, unimpressed.

  “Aww, Stevie,” Michael said, and that was a nickname Patrick had yet to hear anyone call Isaac. “I share them from a place of love.”

  Patrick tapped a finger on the table, smile turning smug. “And I’d hear them out of a place of love.”

  Isaac looked between them, eyes narrowed, and threw up his hands. “Fine, whatever. It’s not like I have much shame left.”

  Michael held up a fist and despite himself, Patrick tapped back, even though he’d given up fist bumping in college. Abruptly, and viscerally, Patrick hated him, hated everything about the dinner. He ground his teeth against saying something scathing. He was trying, and he genuinely liked Michael.

  Patrick offered to wash up, something he couldn’t ever remember doing, and Isaac opened his mouth to offer, but Sarah waved them off.

  “You and Michael can clean up next time,” she said easily, and Patrick tried not to stiffen.

  Isaac said something Patrick didn’t catch, too low, and he sounded sad. Michael socked him on the shoulder and told him to stop moping, before turning back to the washing up, feeling that swooping disappointment and fear back in his stomach.

  It was nearing early evening when Patrick figured he should make a move. Isaac and Michael were planted on Sarah’s couch, giggling like five year olds, and Patrick could only take so much.

  “I should make a move,” he said, scratching through his hair.

  Isaac immediately sat forward. “Stay.”

  Patrick shook his head, standing smoothly, grateful when Sarah did the same, drawing Patrick into a hug.

  “Thank you for coming again,” she said, squeezing Patrick’s shoulder.

  Patrick nodded, smiling. “I’d cut work for your cooking.”

  Sarah laughed gently and looked pointedly at Isaac, who didn’t seem to need her prompting. Both he and Michael were standing, but it was Michael who stepped forward first, holding out a hand that Patrick took immediately.

  “Glad to meet you properly this time,” Michael said, throwing Isaac a pointed glance.

  Isaac rolled his eyes, and Patrick’s lips quirked up a little. “Hopefully next time you can actually tell me about little Isaac.”

  Michael nodded, laughing when Isaac cussed him out.

  “Come on,” Isaac said, cupping Patrick’s elbow and leading back into the kitchen. “I’ll walk you out.”

  It felt weird, not to be leaving with Isaac, and wasn’t it a kicker that Patrick had predicted that Isaac would be staying – with Michael – instead of leaving with Patrick. Picking his jacket up from the back of the kitchen chair, Patrick shrugged into it, staring at Isaac, who was leaning against the wall just inside the door, watching him silently.

  “What?”

  “Are you all right?” Isaac sounded tentative and looked apprehensive for the first time that night.

  Patrick nodded. He double-checked to make sure he had his keys, wallet, and phone, and hooked a finger in Isaac’s jeans, dragged him in for a kiss. Isaac was willing, once more wrapping Patrick up in his arms. “We need to talk. But I’m fine.”

  Isaac didn’t look pleased, but he nodded something distant in his eyes. Maybe, like Patrick, he sensed there were cracks in their relationship, and they needed fixing. Or maybe he was ready to confess. Patrick wasn’t sure which he wanted.

  “If you’re free Wednesday,” Isaac said quietly, lips a hairsbreadth away from Patrick’s. “Perhaps we could get together.”

  Wednesday. Fuck if Patrick wanted Wednesday to come, but he pressed another soft kiss to Isaac’s lips and said, “Yeah, Wednesday.”

  Patrick couldn’t wait.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The plan was:

  Confront Isaac.

  Break up with Isaac.

  Pretend everything was a-fucking-okay.

  Reality wasn’t as kind as making it that easy, and Patrick opened the door on Isaac’s smiling face, as if everything was fine and the past few weeks hadn’t happened. Michael wasn’t a huge hurdle in Patrick’s way, they were communicating like adults, and they were in love.

 
Ha. What the fuck was Patrick doing?

  “Can I come in?” Isaac said, his eyebrow raised.

  Patrick gestured exaggeratedly for Isaac to walk in and he did, shucking his jacket and shoes, looking up at Patrick from under his lashes.

  He still had a way of getting under Patrick’s skin, of making Patrick want him and Patrick didn’t want this. Fucking Isaac didn’t fit anywhere on the plan, but it had been so long, he was human, and Isaac was backing him up against the wall, ducking down for a kiss.

  “Isaac,” Patrick said, fisting his hands in Isaac’s shirt, to push him away, to drag him closer, he didn’t know.

  “Hey,” Isaac said, his eyes impossibly beautiful up close, and Patrick’s resolve had never been very sturdy. It folded like a cheap deck of cards, and he let Isaac take his face in his hands, draw him up into a kiss, turn him away to bite at his neck, manhandle him against the wall. “I missed you.”

  There were cracks in the wall, Patrick supposed, but they could be pasted in. Concreted in? Fixed in some way, but the foundations would crumble eventually.

  The analogy was clearly incorrect, but Patrick’s fear about losing Isaac was not and he wanted this, wanted to pretend everything was all right just for one more day. And one more after that. And so on.

  “You with me?” Isaac asked.

  “Fuck yes,” Patrick pressed, shoving Isaac in the direction of the bedroom. “You sure about this?”

  “I missed you,” Isaac said again. “We haven’t been able to do this in so long.”

  Because of you, Patrick didn’t say. Why are you avoiding me?

  “So get your ass in the bedroom, Carter,” Patrick said instead.

  Isaac backed up, hand at the base of Patrick’s spine, holding him close, the two of them stumbling toward the bed. They’re kissing, lips mashed together, pulling apart, and Patrick shoved at Isaac’s chest, grinning when Isaac went down easily, smirking and shuffling backwards, until Patrick could kneel between his legs, hands either side of Isaac’s torso. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” Patrick said, not a touch of mocking in his tone, which he was pleased for himself with. It would have been so easy to make light of the situation, to make it fun and playful, but there was a weight to the interaction that Patrick couldn’t shift. There was every chance they would have to have a serious conversation, cry a little, maybe even break up in their future, and Patrick couldn’t shake that notion as he straddled Isaac, dipped down to kiss him hotly. His tongue slid against Isaac’s, Isaac’s hands were wrapped around the hem of Patrick’s shirt, slowly tugging it upwards. Patrick could feel Isaac’s fingers against his skin, light enough to make him shiver, and he groaned into Isaac’s mouth.