Page 120 of Fourth Point Of Contact

“No, Patti was our only child. Oh, we tried for years to have other kids, but it just wasn’t in God’s plans.”

“Well, you made a pretty wonderful man. I don’t know if he told you this, but he saved my life.”

A smile played at her lips as she walked into the living room and sat on the couch, patting it for me to join her. “Oh, the way I hear it is you saved his life.”

“Mom,” Patrick groaned.

“Now, there’s nothing wrong with a woman rushing to the rescue. Just don’t make a habit of it. You’re supposed to be the protector. Not the other way around.”

I snorted in amusement at that. “I think I can safely say that I would not have survived the plane crashing, let alone the woods for two days, without your son. He taught me how to make a pouch out of bark and use it to boil water.”

“Well, he learned that from his father,” she beamed. “He used to take Patrick hunting and camping for weeks at a time in the summer. They just left me at home all by myself!”

“Like you didn’t enjoy it,” Patrick teased. “We all know you used that time to crank up your music and enjoy some time to yourself.”

“I did,” she grinned. “I’m sure it wouldn’t surprise you to know that Patrick was not an easy child.”

“No,” I gasped in mock shock. “I would have thought he was easy as pie.”

“Not at all. In fact, I was called to the school so often that I considered just homeschooling him. But then I would have had to spend all day with him, and I just wasn’t prepared to do that.”

“Thanks, Mom. That’s really nice of you.”

I listened for the next hour to all the stories about Patrick as a kid, laughing so hard I thought I would pee myself. But as the hour passed, my eyes had a hard time staying open.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to take a nap. I had a little too much liquid courage to get on that plane.”

“I can’t believe you flew all the way out here to meet me,” she beamed. “You must really like my Patrick.”

“Yeah, he’s okay.”

She hugged me again, but this time, I didn’t allow myself to get lost in the feelings. When I stepped back, Patrick was at my side, watching me closely.

“I’ll take you up to my room.”

“Oh, is?—”

“I may be old-fashioned,” his mom cut in, “but I’m well aware that my son is no saint.”

She winked at me, which creeped me out just a little. It was one thing to have her permission to share a room with him. It was entirely different to have her blessing to fuck her son.

I headed upstairs, waiting at the top for Patrick. “I don’t know how you do the stairs every day with those crutches. Why don’t you just sleep downstairs?”

“Nothing in life is worth having if it’s not hard.”

I rolled my eyes, not sharing the same sentiment at the moment. “If it were between sleeping downstairs and struggling through it for the pure knowledge that I had made it, I think I’d choose to sleep downstairs.”

“You won’t be saying that tonight,” he grinned as he headed past me to his room.

My skin flushed as I stepped inside and took in the minimalist decor. It was so Patrick, and made me feel at home even though there was nothing really there.

“Don’t worry. I washed the sheets. There are no man cooties on them.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve had all your man cooties before. I’m not sure how it could possibly get any worse.”

I didn’t waste a second undressing, not even bothering to wait for him to leave. He’d already seen all of me, and he’d already told me tonight I’d have him between my thighs. What did surprise me was when he hobbled over to me with a white t-shirt in his hands.

“Arms up.”

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