Will & Patrick Fight Their Feelings (#4) by Leta Blake, Alice Griffiths

dry, and he might vomit. He’s feeling things that aren’t part of the deal and if Will finds out, he’s going to pity Patrick. Worse, he’ll feel betrayed. Patrick’s lied to him. He’s said he doesn’t love him, said that he never will.
    The truth is he already does.
    And it sucks so much. He loves Will. It goes beyond feelings and caring. Patrick’s in love with him. It’s not what they’ve agreed to and it’s not what Will wants. It’s not what Patrick wants either.
    Right?
    “Go to sleep,” Will says, dropping another kiss on Patrick’s head. “I’m beat. And you’ve got Shane’s surgery tomorrow. You need to be rested.” He somehow manages to roll over and get the opposite nightstand light turned off all without relinquishing hold on Patrick. Once they settle back into their usual position in the dark, Will’s heart rate slows beneath Patrick’s ear. It takes a while, but eventually Will drifts off, his steady breaths puffing against Patrick’s nape.
    Patrick turns his face to Will’s chest and smells his skin, wiping his stinging eyes against the soft fur. Pressing a kiss to Will’s sternum, he wraps his arms around him more tightly. Will snuffles but doesn’t wake.
    Eventually, Patrick closes his eyes and lets the steady thumping of Will’s heartbeat lull him into sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Nine
 
    Leaning back in his chair at Good Works, Will wishes he had a trustworthy friend he could talk to about his arrangement with Patrick. He’s still abuzz with memories of the sexy boundaries they pushed the night before. He closes his eyes, remembering Patrick’s hand over his mouth, taking his breath, and the spanking Patrick gave him—the one he’d waited his whole life to receive.
    Will’s going to bubble over if he can’t tell someone. He stands up, pacing behind his desk, unable to contain his giddiness. How is it possible he’s lived in this town most of his life, but there’s truly no one he can trust to share these experiences with? No one but Patrick. And that makes him grin all over again remembering Patrick’s helpless orgasm against Will’s hip. Patrick had wanted it too. He’d wanted Will.
    He cares for me. He loves me. As a friend, sure. But love is love.
    Will waltzes around his office, champagne in his veins. Glancing at the wall clock, he notes he only has an hour before his meeting with Don about additional funding for Patrick’s neuro department. That’s how Will’s started to think about it now: Patrick’s department. It makes him happy to think there’s something here in Healing that might keep Patrick around after the divorce goes through.
    Maybe it’s selfish, but knowing Patrick the way he does now, he doesn’t want him to ever leave. If nothing else, he needs Patrick in his family as a friend. Dozens of Christmases into the future, he wants Patrick out on the farm with him, opening gifts and eating Grandma Betty’s pie. For dozens of New Years’ Eves he wants to dance at least one song in Patrick’s arms.
    Sitting at his desk again, he opens his laptop and tries to focus. He works through four urgent emails from Owen and one from his director of competitive grants. Then he tests his BG, and injects the appropriate bolus of insulin before starting in on his mid-morning snack.
    The phone rings, and before he finishes saying hello, his grandmother is talking over him.
    “Darling, you simply must bring Patrick over for dinner soon. Reba misses him.”
    Will laughs. “Hi, Nonna. How’s it going?”
    “It’s ‘going,’ as the kids say. But I’m not joking about bringing Patrick by. Things have been unusually dull since the holidays ended, and even if he’s a charming little pill, he makes Reba laugh.”
    “He likes you too.”
    “I have some news.”
    “Oh?” Will’s pulse races. “About our ‘project’?”
    “My new lead panned out. There’s a rumor that Frankie Molinaro got married this past weekend.”
    “And?”
    “And, if you remember,