does it matter to you? You can’t see.”
An expression that could’ve been hurt momentarily clouded his face. “Just because I can’t see, it doesn’t mean I don’t like to know what people I speak to regularly look like. I have an image in my head of you and I’m politely trying to gather more information.”
If I’d been able to, I’d have kicked myself for being such an arse wipe. “Sorry, man. That was rude. So was the question what do I look like? An average, regular man, actually. I’m white, with short, sandy-brown hair and brown eyes. I guess you could say I’m fit and I have a tan since I’m always out riding on my bike. And I thankfully don’t freckle. I’ve got me a decent snoz on my face, which I hate, but you can’t change that, can you? Other than that, there’s nothing special about me.”
Patrick reached out and carefully ran his fingers down my cheek. I blinked in consternation at the unexpected touch. “Nothing special? There’s one thing you forgot, Jake Manning.”
“What’s that?”
“Your smile. You’re always smiling, I can tell from the way you speak. There’s a warmth that radiates outward from it. Now tell me, am I wrong?”
I blushed, disconcerted to be caught out. “You’re not wrong. I guess it’s true. I do get a lot of compliments about my smile, so it must be a nice one.”
“I’m sure it is, but I believe it’s probably to do more with the man behind the smile that people are complimenting you on. And they’re right.”
My eyes widened. Coming from another person I would think it was a sexual advance, but Patrick wouldn’t do something like that. He was straight.
We chatted a while before I realized it was nearly lunchtime. At Patrick’s insistence, we sat together and ate sandwiches and fruit. After lunch he played out in the back with Gregor (after I carefully cleaned the back lawn of doggie poos) before retreating to his study again to type at his computer. I could hear the machine talking back to him from time-to-time.
Finally, I had to leave. I knocked gently on the open door. “Patrick?”
“Yes?”
“I’m going now.”
“Oh.” His hand went to his wrist where he was wearing a nifty braille watch. “I didn’t realize the time.”
“No problem. I just wanted to check to make sure there was nothing I could do for you before I left?”
“No, nothing. Unless….” He trailed off.
“Unless, what?”
He seemed to hesitate before saying, “Unless you want to stay for dinner? I have some steaks I can cook.”
Warmth spread throughout my chest. How I wished he was gay and he was asking me for dinner for a reason other than platonic friendship. The last two days had proved to me that he wasn’t such a dickhead after all. His notes to his employees needed work and he needed some manners, but he was basically a good guy. Even if he wasn’t gay, I was happy to be his friend. But unfortunately, something came above friendship.
Family.
“I’d love to, man, but I can’t. I have to go and visit my mum and my sister today.”
He frowned slightly. “I thought you visited yesterday?”
“That was Ellie and Skylah. Today’s Thursday, and I have to check up on Maria. Her exams are next week, and I want to make sure the house is in order and she has enough food and all. Sometimes Mum doesn’t always have the money to stock the fridge.”
Patrick smiled at me gently. “You’re such a good big brother, aren’t you? You take care of them all.”
I sighed sadly. “I have to. There’s no one else.”
Chapter 8
F RIDAY MORNING I found Patrick’s house empty and was curiously disappointed. My stomach felt hollow and strange. I’d received my pay yesterday and had bought enough food for a good breakfast, so the feeling wasn’t hunger. I rushed through the house to the laundry and snatched up the note he’d left.
Dear Mrs. Huntley, Jake,
THANK YOU for helping me while I was sick.
SORRY you had to do that.
PLEASE feel
Landon Dixon, Giselle Renarde, Beverly Langland