HAWKE

2. Roomhate

"Patrick, are you serious right now?" I sigh in frustration. "A roommate? Were you going to talk to me about this before just making this decision for us?"

I pace our bedroom, heated from the "surprise" he was going to drop on me tonight.

And here I thought he was going to propose.

"I'm sorry sweetie, really I am," he begins. "I've known Hawke for a long time, and trust me, this isn't a normal situation by any means. He just needs our help right now."

No, this is not a normal situation. This is a mess.

"He needs our help?!" I scoff. "No, he needs to find a new place to crash, especially if he's going to be bringing drugs, or girls, or whatever else he's involved in under our roof. This is our home!"

"Technically, it is... but it's not," Patrick declares, squinting his eyes as if not wanting the truth to come out. Not like this.

"Explain. Now," I demand.

He grabs for my hands, pulling me to sit on the edge of our queen-sized bed next to him as he begins.

"Don't be upset with me, okay?" he begins.

I glare at him, already annoyed.

"Remember when I went with my father to the bank to get the loan for the house?"

"Yes..." I answer cautiously, bracing for disaster.

"Well, I never actually got a loan. We didn't even really need to get a realtor or bank involved. My father bought it outright. From Hawke."

His words pour into my mind again. This is my house.

Confusion and curiosity hit me at the same time as I try to process this.

"So, you bought his house and are now letting him live here because...?" I ask vaguely, waiting for an answer.

Patrick licks his lips, taking in a deep breath before running his hand over his sandy short hair. His cheeks become rosy like they do when he's nervous. He lets out the breath, gripping my hands before lifting his eyes back to mine to explain.

"He couldn't afford to make the mortgage payments on it anymore. H-he wasn't around."

I arch an eyebrow at him, urging him to continue.

"Hawke just got out of prison."

The air has left the room.

Suddenly I can't seem to suck in a breath. I'm just silently sitting there staring at him.

First of all, how have I never heard of this "Hawke" guy? I've known Patrick long enough to know his circle of friends. All of whom are intelligent, successful, in relationships, and know his family through the church or the golf club.

Not anywhere does a "Hawke" character fit in.

And second, is he crazy? Does he not realize that I basically work from home? I'd potentially be trapped home with this ex-convict all day while Patrick is away at work.

And third, Hawke? What kind of prison name is that?

"This is something you really should have talked to me about. I do not feel comfortable with this," I declare, raising my hands and getting up to pace the room.

My heart rate is rising. I'm visibly pissed.

"Listen, Nic," he says, grabbing my upper arms to stop my incessant movements. "He just needs a little help to get back on his feet. Don't you think we should do that for him? Especially as Christians?"