Chapter 2 2

I blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling for a moment, disoriented, before it all came rushing back- the move, the awkward dinner, and Patrick's guarded gaze in the kitchen last night.

Dragging myself out of bed, I threw on jeans and a sweater, tying my hair into a quick ponytail before heading downstairs. The voices hit me before I even stepped into the kitchen- my mom's bright and chipper tone, Patrick's dad chiming in occasionally, and... Patrick. His voice was quieter, more reserved, but unmistakable.

I hesitated at the doorway, suddenly feeling like an intruder again.

"Charlotte!" Mom's eyes lit up when she spotted me. "Good morning, sweetheart. Sleep okay?"

I forced a smile and nodded, sliding into the empty seat beside her. Patrick barely glanced at me, busy buttering a piece of toast. But his presence was like gravity- pulling my attention whether I wanted it or not.

"We've got that brunch today," my mom reminded me, her eyes sparkling like it was the event of the year. "It's at 11, so eat up."

Patrick groaned. "Do we really have to?"

His dad shot him a warning look. "Yes. It's important to your mom."

I hid a smile, feeling a tiny pang of solidarity with Patrick for once.

As we ate, I stole a few glances at him. He was wearing a simple black T-shirt that clung a little too well to his shoulders and jeans that looked like they'd been lived in. He caught me looking once, and our eyes locked for a heartbeat-something tense and electric passing between us before we both looked away.

By the time brunch rolled around, I was already exhausted. The restaurant was a trendy spot downtown, filled with sleek furniture and way too many people in designer clothes. Mom introduced me to a carousel of women who all had perfect hair and fake smiles, each of them gushing about how grown up I looked.

Patrick, to his credit, didn't ditch me, though he looked just as miserable as I felt.

"So," one of the women cooed, turning to him, "how are you adjusting to having a new... sibling?"

Patrick's jaw tensed. "It's... different."

I nearly choked on my mimosa, barely covering it with a cough.

The woman laughed, oblivious. "I'm sure you two will be inseparable in no time."

Patrick's eyes flicked to mine- sharp, unreadable- and for a second, I wondered if he was about to make some snide comment. But he surprised me by saying nothing, just sipping his drink and looking away.

After what felt like forever, we were finally released from brunch hell. Patrick and I ended up in the backseat of his dad's car on the way home, both of us staring out opposite windows.

"That was... something," I muttered.

Patrick snorted. "Brunch with the Stepford Wives. Welcome to my life."

I smiled despite myself, stealing a glance at him. "Thanks for not throwing me under the bus back there."

His eyes met mine, serious. "You didn't deserve it."

Something about the way he said it-quiet, firm-made my chest tighten.

We fell into silence again, but it felt different this time. Easier. Like maybe, just maybe, we were starting to figure out how to exist in each other's orbit.

When we pulled into the driveway, I lingered outside the car for a second, watching Patrick as he headed toward the house. He turned back, catching me watching him.

"What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," I said quickly, brushing past him toward the door.

But the truth was... it wasn't nothing at all. And deep down, I knew it was only going to get more complicated from here.

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The rest of the afternoon was a blur of unpacking boxes and pretending to be busy, though my thoughts kept circling back to Patrick- his quiet strength, his guarded eyes, and the way something unspoken seemed to hang between us now.

By early evening, I needed air. I stepped out onto the back porch, pulling my sweater tighter around me as a cool breeze brushed against my skin. The sky was streaked with soft pink and gold, the sun dipping low on the horizon. I let out a breath, my shoulders finally relaxing a little.

"Escaping?" a familiar voice drawled from behind me.

I turned to see Patrick leaning casually against the doorframe, hands shoved into his pockets. His eyes, usually sharp and watchful, looked softer in the fading light.

"Trying to," I admitted with a small smile. "It's... a lot."

He stepped outside, letting the door click shut behind him. "Tell me about it."

We stood there for a moment, side by side but not touching, staring out at the quiet yard. The silence between us felt different now-less awkward, more like... understanding.

Patrick broke it first. "You miss home?"

I hesitated. "Yeah. I mean, I didn't have a perfect life or anything, but... it was familiar, you know? This is... new. Strange."

He nodded slowly. "I get that. I felt the same when my dad married your mom. Suddenly everything shifted."

I glanced at him, surprised by the honesty. "You don't talk about it much."

He shrugged, eyes fixed on some invisible point in the distance. "No point. It is what it is."

We fell silent again, but this time I didn't mind. There was something oddly comforting about standing there with him, like maybe we weren't so different after all.

Patrick shifted, his shoulder brushing mine lightly. "You'll get used to it," he said, voice low. "And... if anyone gives you a hard time at school or whatever, you tell me."

My heart skipped, the words hanging between us, heavier than they seemed.

"Thanks," I whispered, meeting his gaze.

For a moment, it felt like the world narrowed to just the two of us- the quiet, the closeness, the warmth of his arm brushing mine. Then Patrick looked away quickly, clearing his throat.

"We should probably head in before they send a search party."

I laughed, the spell breaking. "Yeah."

We stepped back inside, the warmth of the house wrapping around us like a cocoon. But even as we went our separate ways- him to his room, me to mine- I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between us tonight... And somehow, I knew this was just the beginning.

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