Page 64 of Patrick

“I know. That’s what I told her⁠—”

“Told who? What’s this all about?”

Looking at Pammy again, I realize her hair is styled differently, long and loose with a wave of curls, and she’s wearing makeup. I could swear I see eyeliner and mascara under her glasses. Fuck, the tape on the bridge of her glasses is gone, and running my glance down, I realize she’s wearing jeans and a sweater that shows off her more than ample figure. I hadn’t noticed her curves before. Shit.

“I was sent on a mission.”

“What the fuck are you talking about—pardon my French.”

Her face goes pink, and I lean forward, taking her hands in mine. “I’m sorry. Go ahead, take your time and tell me.” I concentrate on her face. It’s pretty.

“No need to apologize, Trick. You’re injured, and this is all so… crazy.”

I close my eyes against the urge to ask her what the hell this is and wait.

“Sofia sent me.” She stops, and my eyes pop open.

“What—”

“She called me—she found my name in the student directory, and she asked me if I would help her. Of course, I said I would. She sounded desperate, and when we met at her apartment, she was so sweet.”

“How is you showing up here saying you’re my girlfriend helping her exactly?” Maybe it’s my compromised mind, but I’m not connecting the dots.

Pammy pats my hands. “I’m getting to that. She told me about your unfortunate situation with your family’s, uh, feud? Mutual dislike?”

“Strong mutual dislike. Mostly it’s my Dad and Pops in my family, and in Fi—Sofia’s family, it’s her Dad and her older brother Frank who have the most dislike.”

She nods as if she gets it, and hell, she probably does because she’s smart and her brain is functioning fine right now. Unlike mine.

“I hope you’re not mad that Sofia told me—she thought you might⁠—”

“No, no. I know we can trust you.”

“Absolutely.” She crosses her heart. “I think it’s a truly romantic story—except that it’s probably not ideal for you and Sofia. Anyway, she wanted me to continue the charade as your girlfriend today for two reasons. First, she wanted to find out how you’re doing and let you know how sorry she is about Vincent being a jerk. I guess he has major jealousy over the disparity in hockey talent—you having all the talent and him having very little.”

I smile, appreciating her sentiment. “You have a way with words, Pammy.”

She grins. “I try. Must be from reading all that poetry.” She winks.

I laugh.

“Are you allowed to laugh? I read that to recover from a concussion you need to avoid excitement.”

I take a breath because she’s not wrong, and that laugh did earn a sharp spike through my head.

“I’m fine. Go on.”

“The second reason was that she wanted to give your relationship with her some cover by having everyone think I’m your girlfriend.”

“Why does my relationship with Fifi need cover?” This isn’t making sense, though her words are giving me a low-level sense of dread.

She leans closer. “This is the bad part, and I don’t want to get you excited, and Fifi is so afraid you’re going to be upset with her⁠—”

“What—”

“Your brother Daniel caught her down by the locker rooms, and long story short, he knows about you and Fifi, about your romance.”

“Fuck.” I run a hand through my hair, holding it against the increased pounding in my head.