Page 11 of Dreams and Desires

“Patterson,” I tell her, pulling out my card.

She takes it and glances down. Then glances up. Her whole energy shifts in about two seconds. “Of course. Just a moment.”

She types something fast, and suddenly there’s movement. A manager appears—blazer too tight around the middle, voice a little too bright. “Mr. Patterson, welcome. We’ve got your suite ready. Please, right this way.”

The elevator ride is all small talk on his end, mostly nodding on mine. He says something about the view, something about the last time the carpets were replaced, maybe. I’m not listening.

The suite isn't bad. It’s clean. Has huge windows looking out at the park. The mountains in the distance look fake—too perfect, like someone painted them into the background. I toss my bag on the leather couch and loosen my tie.

The manager’s still there. “Everything to your liking?”

“It’s fine,” I say.

He backs out fast.

I stay where I am, right by the window. Just watching. The tree line is quiet. Still. Green stretching all the way to the hills like it’s trying to swallow the road.

My eyes drop.

I think of those nights back in the group home. Axel and I curled up on thin mattresses, blankets scratchy enough to leave marks. Everything in that place smelled like bleach and melted plastic. Some days it felt like it was eating us alive.

“We’re gonna have more than this one day,” he used to say.

We were ten. Maybe eleven. I didn’t believe him back then, not really. But I needed those words. They gave me something to hold.

And now?

I’m here. I’m in it. The having-everything part.

Axel’s got the wife. The kids. That adorable dog, Leo and Cora’s bakery, the Sweet Fairy. He’s settled. He’s good. I am happy for him.

As for me… I’m… still proving it.

I check the time and let out a breath. Meeting is in twenty minutes. I head to the shower, fast but not frantic. Water’s cold for the first few seconds, but I don’t bother waiting.

I towel off halfway while I’m walking to the closet. Pull on a fresh shirt. Dark grey. Wrinkled at the cuff, but I don’t care. Jacket’s fine. No tie. I’m not in the mood to look like I’m trying that hard.

I grab my phone, shove it in my pocket, and step into the elevator. It’s already on my floor, like it knew I was coming.

Downstairs, my driver’s standing by the car. He opens the door without a word.

I nod and slide in, already shifting gears in my head. The day’s about to start.

We drive through town again. The streets feel even smaller this time. Every crack in the pavement, every leaning fence post—it all looks like it’s waiting for something to happen. Maybe it’s been waiting too long.

The mayor’s office is in a low brick building. Ivy climbs up one side. A single flag flaps out front. Inside, the receptionist glances up.

“He’s in a—”

I ignore the receptionist and keep walking.

When I push open the mayor’s office door, I find Mayor Brian Ellis behind his desk. Tie loosened. Face flushed. Eyes wide like he’s just been caught stealing something.

Then I see her.

There’s a woman on the floor, kneeling in front of him.

Jesus.

---