Chapter 95

My heart is barely hanging by a thread

Looking up as the door to his room pushed open, Patrick smiled at Robin standing there; he waved her in.

He was relieved to see her. His father had returned the night before after his conversation with her and reported that she had been less than forthcoming about what she was struggling with. Noah had offered his own theories. He had let him know as gently as he could that the last few months had been difficult on every one and that he believed the effects were just now catching up with Robin. Noah had encouraged him to be patient, loving and understanding as she tried to find her way.

He had marvelled at his father. He was more confident and sure of himself than he had been in quite some time. Though he was at a loss to understand what brought about the transformation, he was hopeful that he was once again becoming the father he had always been to him – the man who had been missing in his life for so long.

As he looked at his girlfriend his heart felt heavy. She was crumbling under the weight of the pain she was carrying but he was completely unsuccessful in getting her to talk about it. There was much about the way that she was carrying herself that reminded him of how she came apart after April Gilbert's death. And he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and kiss away her fears and her worries.

He flipped back the covers on his bed and patted the space beside him. Dropping her purse on the chair, she shyly climbed in beside him and swept her hand across his chest. He tipped her chin up towards him and delicately kissed her.

"Hi" she greeted him quietly, threading her legs through his.

Being near him, having him touch her, left her feeling as though she could actually exhale. After her argument with Noah the night before, she had stormed from the hospital and walked the streets hoping almost to get lost. If she could lose herself, even for an hour, then she wouldn't be continually reminded of how tenuous everything felt. By her best guess she had walked for almost three hours, threading in and out of the maddening crowds in Times Square. Hit by exhaustion, she checked into the first hotel she found and slept for several hours before returning to the hospital.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked.

Patrick nodded. Reaching for the white board, he started to write.

I feel okay. Spoke to my dad about being released. I'd like to go to the Hamptons

Chewing on her bottom lip as Noah's words about Patrick being more than capable of speaking for himself echoed in her ears, she nodded. "Of course," she replied, not quite meeting his gaze. "Wherever you would be most comfortable."

Will you stay with me there?

Her eyes pricked with tears unshed as she looked up at him. Her head was a jumble of confusing emotions and thoughts and she barely knew where she stood on any front, let alone with him. During her walk the night before she had asked herself if Noah was trying, on Patrick's behalf, to get her to leave – that somehow Patrick didn't want her around.

"Of course I will" she replied hoarsely. Her mind wandered to the To Do list tucked away in her wallet and how visiting his house in the Hamptons was on it.

Watching as he wiped the board clean, she laughed out loud as he drew the beginnings of the Hangman game.

"Really?" she asked with a small grin. "We're playing hangman?"

He nodded and passed a pen to her. You guess he wrote. Draping his arm around her, he kissed the top of her head as she guessed at the letters.

She groaned as he drew the head on the body at her first missed letter. As the body and both legs appeared her competitive spirit fired up and she was determined to beat him. His laughter vibrated against her body as she guessed the word.

F R E C K L E S

"Freckles?" she asked laughingly. Patrick nodded. "You like my freckles?"

"Y-yes" he said quietly as he softly kissed the end of her nose.

Robin's eyes fluttered closed as she felt his breath against her skin. Somehow he had a way of quieting her – he always had. And as his lips made contact with hers she could felt her heart slow to a steady beat.

He cleared the board again and wrote out the blocks for another word. Robin snuggled in closer to him as he did so, enjoying the small reprieve of normalcy in the midst of so much unknown.

Her guesses were much better this time and Patrick only got a chance to draw the head before she deduced the word.

B R A V E

Her breath hitched as she said the word out loud. Patrick threaded his hands through her hair and nuzzled his lips against her cheek. If necessity was the mother of invention then he needed to do whatever he could, in whatever way he could, to get her to open up to him.

"You think I'm brave?" she asked in a whisper.

He nodded sincerely before stealing a kiss and starting on his next phrase. Robin thought she had guessed it as soon as he laid it out but much to her chagrin, had not quite got it right. Facing the drawing of the first arm on her hangman, she shook her head and blurted it out.

"I loves you?"

"Y-yes" he grinned.

Propping herself up on her elbow she reached out and stroked his face. "Why loves?" she asked.

Because love isn't a big enough word

Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him passionately. Her tongue swept inside his mouth in search of his and they both groaned as they tangled around each other. His hand travelled up and down the length of her back, gently pulling her closer to him. He wanted her to feel safe with him, to feel that she could open up and trust him. The wound on his head was visible to anyone who came into the room but the wound on her heart was equally as visible to those who knew her and he wanted to care for her the way she was caring for him.

They breathlessly broke the kiss and stared at each other for several moments. Catching sight of a shiny silver pendant hanging around her neck, he reached out and gently fingered it. He had seen a design like that before and though he had difficulty recalling its name, he knew it was of Irish origin.

Robin looked down at his hand holding the pendant that was like a life raft to her and then looked back at him.

It's beautiful he wrote.

Biting down hard on the inside of her cheek, she replied. "You gave it to me."

He looked at her in surprise. I did?

She nodded, her heart cracking and shattering as it felt like everything that she had clung to to get her through had no meaning to anyone but her. The necklace had been such a symbol for them both – a beacon at times – and now it was just one more puzzle piece that he did not recognize. She faintly wondered if he had seen his tattoo yet – if he knew that he had needed his own beacon to hold on to when times had been tough.

Her heart started to pound inside her chest again and her mind was suddenly engulfed in a fog. The world – or at least her part of it – was crashing down around her and she needed to get away before she was buried under the rubble.

Swinging her feet to the floor she slipped from the bed, standing just out of his reach. Not looking at him, she reached for her purse. "I just remembered" she stammered nervously, "there's an errand I have to run – I…uh…I promised….uh….I just I have to go do something."

As she headed towards the door, she was stopped in her tracks by the sound of Patrick's fist landing on the table. Slowly turning around she raised her eyes to meet his.

Where are you going?

"I have to do something" she answered with forced brightness, "I promise I'll be back shortly."

"N-NO!" he shouted, wincing at the sharp in his head as he did so. Having succeeded in getting her attention, he scribbled furiously on his board.

Tell me what's wrong. Please. Let me help you Robin – don't leave.

"I'm fine" she dismissed breezily as her throat started to constrict. "I…just…I'll be back in a bit, okay?" Before he could make another move, she snuck out the door and disappeared down the hallway.

Staring in disbelief and afraid for his girlfriend, Patrick inhaled sharply and pushed the covers back. He had waited his whole life for a love like hers and he wasn't about to allow her to disintegrate before his eyes. Unsteadily, he placed his feet on the floor.

He had to go get her.