Heart in Wire: A by a Thread Companion Novel (10 page)

“Do what?”

“Defend her, protect her.”

Patrick looked at her setting glasses on the table. “Someone has to.”

“Patrick, it’s not your job, man.”

Patrick heard El mention to Millie about the fact she should’ve walked over for lunch since she knew they’d be drinking. “I wish you would’ve brought Coop!” he called from the den.

El glanced at him, acknowledging his comment, but didn’t answer. She walked over to the drawers and pulled out silverware.

Millie began pouring the drinks at the table, her side-swept bangs falling over her brown eyes. “Come on, it’s ready,” she announced to the guys in the den.

Billy grabbed Patrick’s arm and turned to face him, making him stop moving toward the kitchen. “Be careful, Patrick,” Billy warned.

They sat and Billy loaded his plate with Frito Pie. Everyone else was quiet and tense about this lunch. Patrick couldn’t find anything to say. He took a few bites of his meal, sat back, and began drinking.

“El, I, for one, have missed you tremendously. Millie doesn’t get naked nearly enough when you aren’t here,” Billy announced.

“I do, too,” Millie pouted. “Just not in the main room.” She looked at Patrick for confirmation.

He grabbed her hand under the table. “I’m happy you only get naked for me.”

“So this is Frito Pie, huh?” El asked.

“Yep. Do you love it or what?” Billy inquired, his mouth full.

“Um, not really. No offense, Mil.”

“None taken. I think I’ll just drink,” Millie responded, tucking her bangs behind her ear.

“I told you she wouldn’t like it,” Patrick hissed at Billy.

“Yeah, I know. You know everything about her and I don’t,” Billy retorted, taking another massive bite, not thinking about what he was saying. “You can’t account for bad taste, El.”

“You’re the one with bad taste, Billy.” She laughed. “Though if I was twelve, like I think you are on the inside, this would probably be awesome.”

Patrick looked over at El, trying to figure out what to say to her. He hadn’t been in the same room with her since the hospital. “So you look like you’re doing good, El. You feeling okay?”

“Well, feeling okay kinda shifts for me on a daily basis right now,” she answered honestly.

“Tell us how you’re doing,” Millie implored.

Patrick knew Millie was really worried about her. El had been holed up in George’s house, trying not to get hounded by the media, and the FBI wouldn’t let her do her job. Millie wanted things to be back to normal, but Patrick knew they’d never get back to the way things were. His feelings for her bumped against his nerves like a live wire, making it very hard for him to be around her. Millie wanted them to be friends, El hated him, and he loved her more than ever.

“I’m making it, which I’m told is all I can expect right now.”

“You still doing physical therapy?” Patrick asked.

“Yep. I started lifting weights again. I’m going to be glad when I don’t have to wait for doctors and therapists to tell me what I can and can’t do.” She took a sip of her drink and looked over the rim at him, her green eyes wide and cautious.

“Have they told you what the impact of your injuries will be in the long term?” Billy asked.

“Sort of…they don’t know everything. I may need more surgeries.”

His jaw tensed even though he knew that might be a possibility. She’d almost died and was still trying to recover. He wanted to take her pain from her. He looked down at his hand, holding Millie’s. Liar. He was a fucking liar, to everyone.

She continued to explain her injuries to them, not looking up at their shocked faces. “I’m in pain all the time. It went from pretty significant, constant pain to a dull pain, also constant. The pain has lessened, yes, but it never leaves.”

Patrick knew that feeling, a pain that never leaves. His pain was in his heart and it was her fault.

“Oh, that sucks, El,” Millie comforted.

“Were they able to get the bullet?” Billy asked.

“Billy!” Patrick chastised. Sometimes Billy acted like a twelve year old.

“Bullet went through my back,” El answered.

“For real?” Billy’s eyes grew wide. “Can I see?”

“Sure.” El stood up after taking a gulp of her drink. She took her shirt off and turned around.

Patrick’s face reddened at the scars all over El’s body, the bullet hole in the heart of her tattoo. How’s that for irony? When she moved to put her shirt back on, he was able to see the angry red lines in the form of cobwebs all over her chest and torso. It was all he could do not to choke and pull her to him. He willed his hands to stay where they were.

It was quiet. Nobody knew what to say next.

“Stella,” Patrick said in a low, hoarse voice.

El’s green eyes were full of emotion and rose to meet his. “Yes?”

“I’m so sorry, El,” Patrick whispered.

Millie gulped her drink and Billy’s mouth hung open in disbelief. None of them had seen the extent of El’s injuries. They were all in shock.

“Well, fuck. If I’d know this would keep y’all quiet, I would’ve done it thirty minutes ago,” El said lightly.

Billy cleared his throat. “Your tattoo looks sick now. There’s a for real bullet hole in it.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“I didn’t know you had all those scars,” Millie said quietly.

“Yep, pretty ugly, huh?”

“Nothing on you is ugly, El,” Patrick answered quickly, and Millie’s eyes snapped to him.

“I think you’ve been watching too many tabloids, Patrick. Those pictures were me before I almost died, leaving me scarred and broken, but thanks for trying to boost my ego.”

Millie pulled her hand away from Patrick’s and poured herself another drink. FUCK.

Billy laughed. “You know, I really like the bikini picture the media has started running every time they talk about you.”

“Oh, you like my nineteen-year-old self?” El teased.

“Way better.” He shoveled Frito Pie in his mouth, then gestured to her with his fork. “Now you’re old and all scarred and shit.”

Patrick kicked Billy under the table. He couldn’t believe Billy just said that.

El burst into her real laugh, the one he loved. It was so obnoxious that Millie and Patrick joined in. El snorted, which sent Billy into hysterics.

They talked for another hour and then all moved into the den. El sat on the couch next to Billy, letting him prop her up. After a few minutes, she stood up and announced she better go home.

“I’ll walk you,” Patrick offered, following her.

“No, thanks, Patrick. I’m okay,” El rebutted as she opened the door.

“Then I’ll follow you.” He wasn’t taking no for an answer. He was going to make sure she got home safe, even if it was from a distance.

“Patrick, I said no.” El walked down the stairs.

Patrick followed her out the door. “I don’t care.”

“Like usual, right?”

Millie was behind him, listening to them. “El, you may want him to go with you because of the media. Are there paparazzi outside George’s house? Patrick may be able to help.”

El’s shoulders slumped a little.

“She’s right, El,” he whispered. “Let me do this.”

“I don’t want anything from you.” Her words were void of any fight.

He waved at Millie. “I’ll be back,” he offered and hurried after her. “I know,” he said, responding to her earlier statement. It killed him to think about that fact, but it was clearly how she felt. He walked next to her in silence, trying not to touch her. It was so difficult for him he fell back and just followed her for the rest of the walk.

When they reached George’s street, he grabbed her hand. “Are you ever going to forgive me?” he asked desperately.

“I don’t think so.”

His shoulders fell; he took a deep breath and released her hand. “Really?”

She’d lived through this horrific situation, but now he was going to have to live without her anyway. He didn’t know if he could handle their revolving around each other and her not forgiving him, not needing him.

“I’ve been thinking about it and I just don’t think I can, Patrick.” She stopped walking and stood facing him, her face pinched in regret. “In some ways, I feel more betrayed by you than by him.”

This he couldn’t take. He couldn’t believe she was comparing him to Jamie. That motherfucker. “El, don’t you remember any of the good times we had?” His voice was low. “You mean a lot to me.”

“Patrick, all those good times seem like a lie to me now. I can’t separate them from all the lies you told. You broke the only thing that I had left, trust. I can’t trust anyone now because of you.” She started walking again, and he followed her.

He hadn’t done that, had he? She was blaming him for that?

“Fuck, El. Please forgive me,” he begged. “Let me make it up to you. Give me a chance.”

“Give you a chance for what? To break whatever little I’ve got left? No thanks.”

The wire around his heart tightened and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He wouldn’t be able to breathe without her. They’d never kissed or fucked or anything, but he couldn’t breathe. He needed her in a way that made him angry; he needed her in his life so he could live.

“When I found out you’d been shot…” he started, “I—I thought I’d lost you with you hating me. I couldn’t deal with it. You’re important to me, El. For four years we’ve been friends. You’re MY person. It wasn’t a lie when I helped pull you through that first year without Jamie. It wasn’t a lie when I held you during all your nightmares. It wasn’t a lie when I talked to your parents every day for an entire year, assuring them you were okay. It’s not a lie that you’re my best friend. I would do anything for you. I honestly thought I was doing something good for you. It was a mistake, and by the time I realized it, it was too late.”

“I don’t—”

“I fucked up, Stella,” he interrupted her; it was now or never. “I’m sorry. Haven’t you ever fucked up?” He was pleading now, his voice rising. He knew the answer.

“Of course I’ve fucked up. You had a front row seat for that. I just don’t know if I can trust you again.” She held her hands up in surrender. “I’m just being honest.”

“Let me try, El. You’re my person.” He would make it up to her or die trying.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. When El saw the photographers outside George’s house, her body physically reacted. Without thinking, Patrick put his hand on her back to guide her, but she shook him off and kept walking.

“I’ve got it from here, Patrick,” she said.

“El, come on,” he pleaded.

“I’ve got it.”

They looked at each other for a few seconds. Her gaze lit him on fire.

“Okay. We can try.” With that, she turned on her heel and walked swiftly up to the front door, leaving him standing there, burning.

Chapter Seven

IS THAT A TOOTH?

Billy and Patrick pulled up to the house after their beer run and collectively scowled at a car they didn’t know in the driveway.

“Whose car is that?” Billy asked.

“No idea.” Patrick fumed and pulled onto the side of the road down a bit from the house.
Why would anyone park in their fucking driveway?

They got the beer out of the back seat and started walking toward the house when he heard yelling—El was yelling. He dropped the beer on the sidewalk, which burst like a firecracker. He and Billy began running and had just taken the first step to the house when he saw George on top of someone through the window, beating the shit out of him in the foyer of their house. As he appraised the situation calmly from the steps on the porch, he heard the name “Jamie” float past his ear.

Billy grabbed his arm. “Not like this, Patrick. We’ll do it right. Not like this,” Billy said and they ran into the house.

George was beating the ever loving fuck out of Jamie. He sort of wanted to stand back and let him do it, but it wasn’t clean. It wouldn’t work; Jamie needed to be taken out without involving George.

El was screaming. Her screams seared his ears and froze him for a few seconds. “Do something, Patrick!”

Patrick waited a beat too long and she pushed him at the two men tangled on the ground. Then she turned and screamed at George.

“You get George, I’ll get Jamie!” Patrick yelled to Billy as he attempted to pull two guys apart in the midst of a full on, fight-till-you-die tussle.

Jamie was hitting George with everything he had, but George wasn’t even there; his rage had taken over and he was pummeling Jamie, over and over, his eyes glazed over with fury. To be honest, Patrick was kind of impressed by George, he didn’t think George had it in him. Jamie was bloodied and bruised; someone’s tooth was on the hardwood. Patrick wanted to just let George beat the fuck out of Jamie for what he’d done to El, but then George would get in trouble and he didn’t know if El could handle that. Billy was right. They could handle Jamie, but it needed to be planned; this was too dirty.

Billy was able to grab George’s arms and Patrick pulled as hard as he could, heaving Jamie out from underneath George. He started dragging him toward the door. Once they were in the front yard, Patrick watched in horror as Jamie yelled obscenities, telling George that El had sucked his dick in Florida and every other day she’d been in his presence. El was screaming for him to shut the fuck up. All of a sudden, George tackled Jamie from behind and Patrick was knocked sideways for a few seconds.
George had to contain his shit.