Eighteen With A Chalkboard

Chapter 17: Family Ties and Frayed Nerves

As soon as I say goodbye to Julie and step out of the coffee shop, I spot Patrick waiting for me by the curb. He's dressed in his usual gray suit, his lips stretched into a smile that I can't quite decipher—genuine or forced, I can't tell.

I don't bother to question it. Instead, I just nod at him as he opens the car door for me, and I slide into the backseat. Patrick settles into the driver's seat, his eyes catching mine in the rear-view mirror.

"If I may ask, who was that girl?" he inquires in curiosity.

And then it hits me—the reason behind that goofy, almost smug smile. I thought Patrick was a man of few words who knew how to mind his own business.

"She's a student," I reply, steadily. "I was just helping her out."

Thankfully, Patrick doesn't push the issue further. But as we start moving, I notice he's taking a different route than usual. I furrow my brow, feeling a growing sense of unease. "Where are we going?"

Patrick glances at me with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, I thought you knew."

"Knew what?" I shift in my seat, trying to shake off the discomfort.

"Mr. Sage should have sent you a message by now," he says nonchalantly. "He's invited you to dinner at his place."

What? Dinner? My pulse quickens, and my mind races. I quickly pull out my phone, my hands shaking slightly. Sure enough, there's a voice message from Mr. Sage waiting for me.

I tap to listen.

"Jonathan, I'd like to invite you to dinner with my family at five. Head over to my place. Patrick will bring you."

I let out a long sigh, leaning my head back. Uninvited dinners usually mean small talk—small talk means anxiety. I glance at the time. Almost five.

The usual and familiar dread crawls into my chest. I dig into my coat pocket for my anxiety meds, only to feel my stomach drop when I realize... they're not there. I left them at home. My pulse quickens again, this time with full-blown panic riding along. My brain is already whirring, calculating all the ways tonight could spiral out of control. I grip the seat, trying to calm myself down.

Not now, I think. I can't afford to lose it at Mr. Sage's house. Just keep it together, Jonathan.

After about twenty minutes, we arrive at a sleek, modern bungalow in a quiet neighborhood. The streets are eerily still, the kind of place where people seem to stay indoors, away from prying eyes.

"We're here," Patrick says, cutting the engine. "I'm off to my other job."

I blink, surprised. "Wait, you have another job?"

Patrick nods. "Yes, I do."

"What kind of job?"

"I'm your father's real estate agent."

The corner of my mouth twitches in amusement. "Then why do you act like a bodyguard when you're with me?"

He grins, his eyes crinkling. "Because I work for your father."

"Well, good for you," I mutter.

Patrick steps out of the car and opens the door for me.

"Make sure you call when the dinner's over," he says.

I nod, stepping out into the evening air. As I approach the front door, I give myself a mental pep talk. You've done this before. You can handle this. Just breathe. I'm halfway through an imaginary breathing exercise when I knock on the door.

It swings open almost immediately, revealing a little girl, about five or six, with blonde hair styled in pigtails. She narrows her eyes at me, her face scrunched up as if she's trying to figure out if I'm really from the planet earth.