“What can I do for you?” Oliver repeated, refusing to be drawn in to a conversation.
“Ollie, don’t be like that. We haven’t spoken in so long.” Oliver dearly,dearly, hoped Lucas couldn’t hear the conversation, but he turned down the volume just to be sure.
“Mr Coletta, I’m a little busy at the moment. Could you send me an email?” Lucas turned around at that, a deep frown spreading over his dark eyebrows.
“Why are you being so formal, Ollie? Is it a bad time?”
“Yes.”
“What are you doing?”
None of your fucking business.
“I’m in a meeting.”
“A meeting? Who with?”
Oliver let out a long breath as he tipped back in his chair. He and Patrick had done this dance hundreds of times—the demanding, the suspicion, the possessive fucking questions. It had been draining back then, even when he thought he was in love with the man.He no longer had the patience to deal with the childish back and forth that had plagued their relationship since the beginning. In fact, he barely had the patience for the unexpected phone call. So, as he swallowed the rapidly forming lump in his throat, he repeated, “Please send me an email.”
Patrick snarled down the phone. “An email? I’m not sending you a fucking email Ollie, you’ll speak to me like a civilised human being.”
His eyes really did glaze over then—that was, until Lucas gently tugged the phone out of his hand.
“Hello? This is Detective Sergeant White.” There was a pause, then, “Mr Coletta, DC Reed’s tied up at the moment, canI help you with something? No. No. Yes. We’ll have to run it past our Inspector. Yes. That’s good. I’m glad you understand.”
Oliver should havehatedthat. He was a grown fucking man that was perfectly capable of dealing with pushy bastards. However, as his jaw tensed and his knee bounced, it became quite clear that Patrick fucking Coletta still set his nerves on edge.Especiallywhen another heatwave could rear its head at any moment. So, instead of grabbing the phone back, he sighed and stretched his legs under the table.
Lucas’ phone started ringing. And ringing. And ringing. The alpha handed it to him as Matteus’ name flashed up on the screen. Oliver frowned and took the phone. “Matty, what’s wr?—”
“It’s him, Ollie. It’s Patrick. He’s the new social worker for Helena and Alfie.” His brother sounded genuinely distressed as the words tumbled out.
Oliver’s stomach dropped. “Y-Yes, I know Matty. Just calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down, Ollie!”
Rising to his feet, Oliver strode out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. It was almost a relief to have something else to focus on. “Matty, please. It’s okay, it’s all okay.”
“It’s not fucking okay. I felt sick after lunch yesterday so had to go home. Nancy came into the office this morning and started talking about the new red-haired social worker from Ireland and Iknewit was him.”
It was then that Oliver thanked the Father, the Son and the Holy fucking Spirit for Matteus’ morning sickness, because what thefuckwould have happened if they’d crossed paths at the police station? Matteus would have lamped him into next week, that’s what.
“I know, Matty. I know.”
“You know? When the fuck did you find out, Ollie? And why didn’t you tell me?”
“It was after Alfie’s interview. Shirley gave us his business card. I just… kinda buried my head in the sand.”
“For-fucks-sake Oliver! Does Lucas know?”
“He’s on the phone to him as we speak.”
“Oh my fucking God. Wait, did you tell him about what happened?”
“Some of it. He doesn’t know it was Patrick.”
Matteus sighed, suddenly sounding unnervingly calm. “Good. That’s good, Ollie. I’m proud of you for opening up to him. But wait—what thehellare they talking about?”
Oliver sighed and rubbed his chin. “I have no idea. Patrick called me, then Lucas took the phone and now I’m talking to you.”
