Hardware

by Sara Brookes

  “Then what is it?” Elena asked, then waved her hand in the air in dismissal. “Wait a minute before you answer. I think this conversation is better suited for somewhere else other than a coffeehouse because something tells me this isn't going to be a quick conversation. Why don't you swing by the warehouse tonight and we'll talk there?”

  Allison agreed she'd be much more comfortable discussing this sort of thing without an audience. However, she didn't want to cause any sort of problems for Elena either. “But it's your night there. I don't want to interrupt your...date.”

  Elena pushed herself out of the chair and collected her delicate cup. “Oh, I don't have any plans for tonight—at least with anyone else.”

  The statement was cryptic and several months ago, Allison wouldn't have had a clue what Elena meant. It was obvious now. Still, despite everything she'd learned recently about herself and the world Patrick was in, she struggled to contain her shock. “You have to go to the warehouse for that?”

  If Elena was offended, she didn't show it. “Of course. It's still about sex, regardless if I have a partner or not. Occasionally, I take a night for myself. Then I don't have to worry about telling someone what I want. I already know. Simple.” Elena winked. “I'll be there around seven if you want to stop by for a little while.”

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  * * *

  Chapter Eighteen

  Patrick had screwed up.

  He'd forgotten for just a moment that he'd spent his entire adult life doing everything he could not to be like his father. For a short five minutes, the specter of his father had returned to haunt him.

  Without question, he was nothing like his father, but in those moments at Allison's cottage when he'd been so angry he'd seen red, he'd realized he could give himself over. It would have been as easy to flip the switch.

  He'd made a mistake and now, he had no clue how to rectify it.

  God, what she must think of me.

  He hated himself, so surely she did too. For the first time in his life, he cared what someone else thought.

  A quiet sound from the den startled him. He tossed down the kitchen towel he'd used to dry the dishes, happy for the respite from his own thoughts.

  “Mom? Are you all right?” he asked as he stepped into the front room of the boarding house and watched as she struggled to sit up.

  “I'm fine. Will you get me another pillow for my foot? It's out in the hall closet.”

  As he got it for her and propped up her foot, he tried not to let disappointment show on his face. At nearly seventy, with a petite build and steely gray eyes, Sadie Conners was more than capable of handling herself. But like most of the Conners, she sometimes took it to the extreme. He'd purchased the rundown house and restored it for her ten years ago. Never in his wildest dreams thought she'd turn it into the efficiently run business it had become. While he was proud she'd taken it and made it her own, sometimes she forgot she needed to be taken care of as well. “You know the doctor told you to rest.”

  “I broke my ankle, for Pete's sake,” she scoffed and ran a hand over her silver hair. “Rest isn't going to do me a whole lot of good. Besides, there are guests to take care of.”

  Leave it to her to think more of the guests than her own welfare. That courtesy was what kept the house filled to capacity most of the time. “You broke it in three places. I'd say you qualified for some downtime. Besides, Nick and I are here and we can handle the guests.”

  Due to the fact it was off-season, there were currently only three guests in residence, so it wasn't as if it was an enormous task to take on. He'd been around enough to know the basic work that went into the business and how she ran it with little margin for error.

  “I told you not to come.”

  Of course she did. And he and Nick had come despite her wishes against it. One thing he knew, customers wouldn't take care of themselves. There was a reason the travelers came to stay at the house just like there was a reason Perfect Shot's customers came when they were perfectly capable of brewing their own coffee. “And what would you have done? Tell them to take care of themselves? I think we remember enough to know what to do without you looking over our shoulders.”

  “Did you chop up the vegetables for dinner tonight? And extra towels, did you make sure everyone that needed them had some?”

  “Mom,” he stated firmly. “I can handle this.”

  “Fine. You're frustratingly obstinate you know.”

  “I come by it honestly. Do you need a blanket?”

  She blew out a sigh as she shifted on the couch. “Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.” When he returned and settled the blanket over her legs, she patted her hand on the cushion. “Come, sit with me for a few minutes and give me someone to talk to that isn't going to throw a bunch of medical jargon my way. Damn doctors at the university hospital always talk three feet above your head.”

  He hadn't understood most of the terms the doctors had tossed out either. Six weeks to heal, as long as she stayed off of it. That's the part he understood and would do his best to see she listened. “You do know this just further cemented the fact that I don't like you living alone here. Not with all these people coming and going like this.”

  Her slim fingers reached out and brushed his hair behind his ear. “I'm not alone. I have a steady influx of guests coming through. Besides, you two were the ones who moved away. I had to have something to do.”

  She was right, of course, as she usually was. After he'd moved around repeatedly, he'd wanted somewhere to settle down for an extended period of time. A place of his own to call home. The warehouse had proved too enticing of a property to turn his back on and he'd snatched it up as soon as he'd found it. “There's something about that town, Mom. I can't stay away from it.”

  Her gaze softened and her palm lightly pressed against his cheek. “Is that so? Way I hear, it's more accurate that it's a woman you can't stay away from.”

  His heart hitched at the reminder of the bang up job he'd done in that department. Leave it to Nick to make sure their mother knew everything “Well, it's not as if I have to worry about it now.”

  His mother snorted and gestured her hand toward the tea he'd made for her. “Nothing a good talk or two won't fix.”

  He picked up the delicate teapot they had purchased on her last birthday and filled an empty cup with her favored hot tea. “No, not in this instance.”

  “Have you even tried?”

  “No,” he stated, ashamed to admit as much to the other woman in his life. The cast on her leg was hard under his hand as he sipped the sweet ice tea he'd prepared for himself earlier.

  “Then that's not the boy I raised. Or at least tried to do when your father wasn't butting his damn opinion in. Tell your mother what you did.”

  The last thing he wanted to do was discuss his love life with his mother. “Mom, I don't want to talk about it.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Sadie had never been one to mince words so it didn't surprise him to hear such language from her. She was also very determined and wouldn't give in until he talked about it.

  “Fine. I screwed up with her. Forced my opinion about the company she kept and generally made an ass of myself.”

  That steely gaze of hers was back and it made him feel like a small child again. “Never tell a woman who she can and can't associate with, son. She'll get in your face every time and put you in your place. Did you apologize?”

  “I haven't had a chance.” Which wasn't accurate. He'd tried with no success, then spent a few days wallowing and had judiciously avoided his phone with one hand on the whiskey bottle. It had been the very wrong approach and it hadn't been normal behavior for him. She was the one thing that had gotten under his skin and thought it could be solved by drinking it away. With the alcohol, he'd forgotten about the problem. At least until Nick showed up at the loft and informed him their mother had fallen and broken her ankle.

  That was a sobering moment.

 
; “Then march yourself back to that town and do it,” she ordered and crossed her arms. It was quite a sight to be the object of her hard glare.

  “It's not that simple.” But, oh how I wish it was.

  “And that's a line of crap if I ever heard one.”

  It would take more than a simple phone call. More than a slurred apology said to voice mail. “I'll go, I promise. But you're more important right now.”

  “Son, while I did my best to instill a sense of family in you boys despite your father, no mother is more important than the woman he's fucking.”

  He choked as the ice tea slid down the wrong pipe. “Jesus Christ, Mom.”

  She smiled widely, which caused the wrinkles around her eyes to deepen. “What? You think I'm some angelic prim and proper woman who's never had a good lay? Your father finally leaving was the best damn thing that happened to my sex life.”

  “I cannot be having this discussion right now.” He looked over to find her hands folded neatly on the afghan he'd tucked around her. He'd known, of course, that his mother was human and had needs. But that didn't mean he actually wanted to hear it admitted out loud or hear about it firsthand. Hell, he didn't even want to hear his mother even mention sex.

  She smiled at him, a sweet, innocent smile. “After your father was thrown in jail, I had myself a bit of a wild period to celebrate. Nice thing about running this place, handsome, single men traveling alone and needing a place to stay for the night.”

  “Stop, Mom. Just stop, please.” He groaned and rubbed at the spot of tension that had just bloomed between his eyes. Maybe he should have asked the doctors to give her something stronger, then he wouldn't be put through this particular version of hell.

  Nick entered the room and immediately questioned the mood of the room. “What's going on?”

  Patrick sat the tea glass on the table and wiped the condensation off his fingers. “Our mother has decided I needed to hear the intimate details of her sex life because of what happened with Allison.”

  His brother settled himself on the arm of the pale blue couch and nodded his head. “If it helps him get over himself, keep talking, Mom.”

  She opened her mouth, but Patrick held up a stiff finger to stop her. “No. I do not need to hear anymore. I'm better off not knowing—ever.”

  Evidently, taking pity on how uncomfortable he was, Sadie pulled the blanket tighter around herself and changed the subject. “Son, I'm fine. Go back to Gatlin Falls and talk to her.”

  That was something he should have already done long before now. Instead, he'd let his temper get the best of him and stormed out. If the situation had been reversed, he wouldn't want to talk to himself. “After what I did, talking to me is the last thing she's going to want to do. It's better if I keep my distance.”

  “Talking is the best thing for you—it will at least offer closure.”

  Patrick sneered at his brother. He didn't need the two of them to gang up on him. “Take your own advice, Nick.”

  There was a huff of breath as Nick sighed. “I tried. Vivian's shut me out completely and there doesn't seem to be anything I can do about it. You haven't even tried with Allison.”

  His mother's eyes went wide in surprise. “It's not like you to give up so easily, Patrick.”

  No, it wasn't. The fact his mother pointed it out just made it even more of a bitter pill. “I know. This time was different.”

  The room was quiet as they waited for one another to speak. Finally, his mother was the one to break the silence. “Do you love her?”

  “I do,” he answered without hesitation. There was no need to think about it because he knew it with everything he was. “So much sometimes it hurts.”

  His mother's expression softened. “Which is why it's so damn painful now. I did not raise my sons to let their women get away from them. Nick's done what he can. Vivian wasn't meant for him. It sounds like you have a different story. Patrick, have you told her?”

  “No.”

  Her hand closed over his and squeezed. “She needs to hear it. Whatever you've done, son, she at least needs to know you love her. Then both of you can go your separate ways if that's the way of things. But my gut instinct tells me otherwise from the way you're broken up about her.”

  Nick's hand slid over Patrick's shoulder and squeezed as well. The contact with his family gave him an anchor and he reaffirmed how important both of these people were to him. They'd all been through traumatic and emotional upheavals in the past and they'd used each other for support to get through it. He'd always known it was there but coming home allowed him to discover that comforting hold again.

  It wasn't quite complete though—someone was missing.

  As if his brother could sense it, Nick gave him a shake.

  “Patrick, go. I can watch over Mom. Besides, I think I'm going to stay here for a little bit. See if I can't sort things out. It's too late for me and Vivian. Don't let it be that way with Allison.”

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  * * *

  Chapter Nineteen

  Shortly before seven, Allison stood under the awning of the bookstore directly across the street from the warehouse. It was still raining and there didn't seem to be any hope it would stop anytime soon. She'd spent most of the day vacillating on whether or not to actually come tonight.

  It was an odd sense of curiosity that made her come. As was the fact, she could have someone to talk to about what had happened with Patrick. Elena wasn't one of her friends who would judge her as soon as they heard about her proclivity toward the unusual. That was, of course, after they'd laughed and pointed—as they'd already done based on the reaction her gaming avatar had received.

  This was important to her and she didn't want to screw up. Besides, when it came to her sex life, the guys wouldn't want to hear about it anyway. While she might seem like one of the guys, she was most definitely a girl. The discussion of her love life with Patrick certainly seemed to be in the realm of female conversation.

  Elena approach the front door of the warehouse with quiet footsteps. Allison waited until Elena unlocked the door then bolted across the street in an effort to stay dry. Once inside, both women shook their jackets and small rings of water formed on the concrete floor.

  “I hate the rain,” Elena stated as she looped her shiny rain slicker on a hook fastened to the wall directly behind the front door. “Makes life hell for those of us who actually take the time to look decent.”

  The comment caused Allison to glance down at her own wardrobe and the faded jeans and polo shirt she'd thought were nice enough just minutes ago. She felt woefully inadequate now as she looked at how well Elena had put herself together. The woman didn't have anywhere to be and still wore a pencil skirt, boots to her knees and a crisply pressed shirt. Of course, the entire ensemble was black and the boots looked to be some sort of shiny vinyl material, but Allison knew she couldn't have put that look together in a millions years. Caught up in her assessment of Elena's clothing choice for the night, she missed the question she'd been asked. “Sorry?”

  “I asked about your jeans. I've been trying to find a pair that would make my ass look like that.”

  “Uh, I don't remember. Old Navy or something?”

  “I should go there more often. They have some really cute things. I've just been so swamped recently with work.” Elena pulled a single key out of the bag looped over her shoulder and swore loudly as she fought with the lock. “I've been asking Patrick to take a look at this stupid thing for months.”

  “You know, I mentioned something to him when he first brought me here about replacing all the locks here with electronic ones. I'd forgotten all about it though,” Allison said absently as she thought about the things that made her forget because they'd happened behind the door to the room across the hall.

  “That's all right. I assume your mind has been elsewhere.” Elena swore again as she threw her shoulder into the solid door and it finally gave with a loud pop. “Not exactly high o
n the sexy scale to bring a potential lover here and find yourself coated in sweat by the time you get the damn door open. Tell you what, do whatever it is that you have to in order to make it happen and I'll pay for everything. We'll tell Patrick later.”

  Allison followed Elena into the room and shut the door firmly behind them. The whole building held enough reminders without the addition of the torture she felt when she stared longingly at Patrick's room. She was the one who'd walked out on him, not the other way around. Of course, his behavior was to blame but it didn't mean she still couldn't miss him. “Sure. I can put the order in at work tomorrow and have them send someone out to do the installation. There's a confidentiality clause already built into the work orders, so you wouldn't have to worry about anyone saying anything.”

  “So you wouldn't do the work yourself?”

  There was a hint of disappointment in Elena's voice. Allison would love to do the wiring work since she'd itched to get her hands on the new cipher locks she'd heard her boss mention the other day. Her work focused mainly on the network systems, but she was fairly certain her boss could be convinced to let her do the job.

  There was, however, one problem. “I'm not certain Patrick would want me to do the work.”

  Elena gave her a wry look. “I find that hard to believe. I saw the job you did at the coffeehouse and know I wouldn't hesitate for a second to have you install something here.”

  “Yeah, well, you didn't have a fight with the owner.” Allison thought about the confrontation in her kitchen. Those images still caused restless nights and she'd taken to sleeping wherever and whenever she could. She'd even fallen asleep in the break room at work two days ago, which was unheard of for her. His behavior may have been uncalled for, but she knew there had to be more to the story. She was just too afraid to see him face-to-face because she didn't trust herself. What she needed to do right now was stand her ground and keep her distance.

  Elena dropped her bag near a small table and immediately headed for the small bar tucked into one corner. Allison took the opportunity to take in the room she'd only heard about from Patrick in bits in pieces. Like his room, Elena's space was simply furnished. An understated couch and two chairs sat near the door and a small kitchenette was off to the side. Unlike the other room she'd spent so much time in, this room was nearly empty. She didn't want to think about why that was or what Elena did with all this free space. Luckily, she didn't have to because Elena slid into the chair across from her and placed two highball glasses on the low table between them.