Poppy's Passions (2 page)

"Hey, babe,” Trevor Patrich greeted when she numbly sat beside him at the busy bar. “You okay, Poppy?"

Trevor, unlike Cody, was scrawny to the point he worked out every day to maintain any sort of muscle mass. She'd learned very early he was a teaser and consummate smartass. He didn't push into mean, which she was grateful for because she couldn't stand bullies. She'd seen him stop a fight between two racers more Cody's size than his own with a joke and a round of beer, and she respected him.

He thankfully had a slew of redeeming qualities, because from what she'd heard he also liked to race dragster and chase busty blondes. She wasn't quite blond, more strawberry blond, and she was far from busty, but tonight his brown eyes were earnest, sweet and warm with concern.

"Bad day.” Leaning into his boney shoulder, she tried to put more distance between her heart and the heaviness weighing on it. “I had a really bad day."

The friendly arm he slipped around her shoulder was the only warmth she'd felt the entire day. “I'm sorry to hear that, sweetheart. How about you come over to the booth we've got and tell us about it? We ordered a couple of pizzas, so you can eat and unload on us."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Come on."

Waiting in the booth, Michael and Cody were on separate sides. They studied her progress across the bar with the interest that always seemed to be in their expressions when they watched her. It wasn't as disconcerting as the first time she'd felt their combined gaze upon her. The more she knew about them, the less their attention frightened her. She wouldn't say she was completely comfortable, but it wasn't a bad feeling.

Contrary to what their sexual preference implied, they weren't touchers. A pat on the back, a kick in the ass maybe, but nothing more than appropriate brotherly behavior. From what she'd seen, it was the norm for them. Their sexuality was nowhere near gay or incestuous; she just wasn't sure what it was exactly.

"Another toughie, darlin'?” Cody asked. He stood and motioned them into his side of the booth. After she and Trevor were settled, Cody pulled a chair to the end of the table and sat. She saw Michael wave to the waitress and knew they'd been expecting her to sit with them eventually. Poppy hoped they weren't too disappointed in the lack of good company she could offer.

"Yeah.” Accepting a thick, milky drink from the waitress, she took a deep gulp before she elaborated. “Some days I really, really hate being a nurse."

"The accident on interstate ninety-four?” Michael asked.

"Yep."

The brothers waited, watching her as she sipped her drink more slowly. They watched her a lot when they were all together. The looks came in varying degrees of heat but when she glanced up, genuine concern was the only thing in their eyes. She needed to talk, and she could see they wanted to listen.

"Five dead.” The words didn't feel right coming out. Nothing about the day felt right. “It was a daycare group going to the zoo."

"Honey, I am so sorry,” Trevor said.

"All the kids died within minutes of getting to the hospital—six months, two years, and four years old,” she explained numbly. “There were two boys and one girl. Even though her skull was crushed her little pigtails were still in the neat bows her mommy tied. God, her mom cried. Buckets. I've never seen anyone cry that much."

Her voice cracked, and she hated that the words were getting stuck again. The charge nurse at the hospital told the nurses involved to visit the trauma therapist on staff. Poppy went, but the words hadn't come then either. The therapist was nice, told her to let it settle but to visit soon to talk. That much trauma couldn't be contained for long. She didn't want the pain anymore.

"The caregiver was a fifty-five-year-old woman with a perfect driving record and brand new triplet granddaughters. She died after a major heart attack took over and we couldn't stop it. Then the other driver came in. A forty-three-year-old male who was texting instead of watching the road. He'd been pulled over for texting while driving before, but it didn't stop him. He was so busy with his messages he didn't notice the daycare van until he had it crushed against the cement median."

Cody swore. When she looked up she saw Michael held his forehead on his fist, shaking his head. It was a natural response, one she'd seen in the hospital before. It took a moment to process that sort of ugly reality, especially the preventable kind. When she took another breath to finish purging the anger and hurt, Trevor settled his big hand over hers.

"Maybe I'm in the wrong field but when we were using the paddles, trying to get his heart going, I wanted to stop.” It was cold-hearted and not something a nurse should ever say, but it was true.

Away from the hospital she didn't have to fake how “sad” she was. There had been a general consensus about how nice it would have been if they'd at least saved him. One life out of five would have been something. The widow had been in the room as they worked on starting his heart and while her tears had touched Poppy, she didn't feel the world had lost much in the death of a man who murdered four people because he was impatient.

"After all those babies came in, broken and dead because of him, I wanted him to die. Then he did. His wife cried and I know he has a grieving family, but I still can't say I hope he's in a good place. If there's a hell, I hope he's burning in it."

The helpless anger brought back the tears she'd fought so hard to stop after she'd helped clean up the little one in pigtails for the mortuary attendants. She couldn't think of the baby girl's name and maintain the small piece of sanity she had left. She took another drink and saw Michael nod.

He was a private detective now, but for years he'd worked as a police detective in Los Angeles. There was every possibility he'd seen worse, which didn't help, but the compassion he offered meant something more because of the shared occupational trauma. He nodded again.

Trevor freed her hand and hugged her close. Gratefully, she sank into the warm comfort his embrace offered. At work she would have told the therapist how she felt and would have been sent home to unwind and mentally prepare for her next shift—alone. Even though they were staying quiet in light of the story, she didn't feel alone with the Patriches.

Waiting out the silence, Michael didn't let Trevor do all the comforting. He reached across the table, peeled her hand away from her drink, and held it in his warm one instead. Though his hair was prematurely graying she couldn't help but think the touches of silver in the blond made him look more handsome and trustworthy. Everything about the way he held himself said he was strong and capable yet approachable. He was somewhere between Cody's hugeness and Trevor's lean muscle, and though average looking in every way, the comfort he offered in a single touch was far from commonplace.

No token responses were offered. It was like they knew no simple Hallmark blurb would make a difference, so the booth's occupants were quiet. Silence worked better than all the trite statements could. Trevor held her and let her bury her face in his shoulder. Every breath of the spicy cologne he wore added another layer of comfort. The constant pressure around her hand from Michael's grip was the most innocent yet powerful contact she'd ever experienced.

Human decency demanded most to comfort in hard times. She saw it every day at work. Surrounded by the Patriches it felt different, deeper. They were her friends. Made in seven days they weren't the deepest of buddies, but even though she didn't have many friends, she recognized good ones in the faces around her.

The therapist recommended she surround herself with people who loved her. The obvious choice would have been her father. Most of her sisters lived in town too, all within half an hour of the hospital. Instead, she'd gone to a bar to meet men she'd known for only a week.

No part of her believed time spent with her sisters would make her feel better. They'd never forgiven her for her part in their mother's death and no comfort was offered. Ever. Going to her father would have required tracking him down at a school function. In the unlikely event of him setting aside responsibility, she knew there would have been nothing but a lecture on personal accountability offered. Her nieces and nephews were sweet but too young for the kind of fellowship she needed, and it wasn't fair to dump her problems on preteens.

College and nursing school should have left her with some friends and support, but graduating had been a struggle. Between classes, clinicals and her family, she'd barely passed her boards. There was no one to blame for her pitiful social life but herself. Since meeting the Patrich brothers, making friends and accepting comfort became a priority.

They were making her trust people to do the right thing. For too long it seemed she couldn't take a step without someone trying to screw her. She'd gone to school for a career she despised because her father expected it. She'd screwed herself by not standing up to her father, but for a time the idea of his approval had pushed her.

The betrayal took a different look with her sisters. For a while it seemed they'd set aside the past, forgiven her for being born and escalating their mother's breast cancer. They'd encouraged her to date and had even set her up on double dates with their husbands’ friends. For the first time in her life, she'd held their approval. Under their advice she'd gone further with a man than she ever had, and when pregnancy followed they'd been thrilled.

Engagement parties and baby shower dates were set. She received happy cards from her two sisters in Arizona, promising to visit and stand with her at the wedding. High on approval and affection she'd let herself be led. The last trials to get her nursing license had still challenged but in the evenings she was with her family, laughing and surrounded by what she'd thought was love.

The affection fest lasted as long as the pregnancy and engagement. A full ten weeks. When it ended, she not only lost the baby she wanted, but the fiance she thought she loved and the affection of her father and sisters.

Courtesy of the backlash she was up to her ears in the self-worth issues she'd been ignoring. It was a bitter pill, but her family didn't want her around. Ignoring it hadn't lasted in the long term because it wasn't right or normal, but it was the way her world worked. Once she decided to focus on making friends, she found co-workers who were decent and showed the smallest glimmer of acquaintance respect. Her whole life she'd been begging for scraps of affection and was finding more with near strangers than she felt from her family.

There was very little to be proud of in her life, but she finally knew her goal. Respect. She couldn't make her family or anyone else love her. But she could love herself. Progress was being made in her rebuilding, and she liked the woman she was becoming. Self-help books and psychology manuals helped her redefine what friendship and family meant. Watching how other women behaved in the hospitals she worked at gave her examples of who she could be, if she chose.

Deciding on the main focuses was easy. She had to like herself first, all the books said so. The next part was finding a way to respect men. Her father had not given her an example of a loving man. Her fiance had played the part but failed in practical application.

The Patriches were expediting her missions. It amazed her how they managed to make her feel so good about herself with only their quiet constancy and bone-deep decency. She felt their respect and affection.

When the food arrived, the waitress tried not to be awkward but unlike the rest of the bar, Poppy knew the tone at their table was somber. She slipped by a minute later with extra napkins and it was something Poppy knew would prompt the brothers to leave a better tip.

She let Trevor tease her out of the dark mood she'd embraced since the accident. The last year had taught her that one negative always led to another, but the Patriches were putting a stop on the pattern. Trevor fed her pizza and nudged her to smile. There was no way to make her day disappear, but she appreciated their best efforts to push back the ugliness for at least a little while.

"Hell, is it already ten?” Trevor said when his cell beeped and vibrated wildly.

"Yep.” Michael tossed a few bills on the table. “Do you have it from here, Cody?"

The youngest brother was already moving from his spot to allow the others to exit. His eyes found hers, and the smile that curved her lips was small but it was one he'd helped make. “Yeah, I'll keep her company."

"Sorry, Poppy,” Trevor said. He took an extra moment to hug her again. “We're meeting with one of the racing promoters at ten-thirty. It's been in the works for a couple months now or I'd tell them to go fuck a cow or something."

She couldn't stop her involuntary burst of laughter. It was the first in too long. She hugged him hard. “That's so sweet, Trevor."

"I am a sweet guy,” he admitted, and she laughed again.

"Thank you.” Because no words she knew were enough to thank him for all he'd done, she reached over and kissed his cheek.

"You're welcome, babe.” He reciprocated with a gentle kiss to her temple. “Make Baby Boy dance. He'll bitch about it, but he will if you want."

"Okay."

He stood and moved to Michael's right. Side by side there was no mistaking the family resemblance. Michael was fair to Trevor's dark hair but the jaw line was the same, the cheeks too.

She smiled at the handsome picture they made. “I hope your meeting goes well."

"I wish we didn't have to go,” Michael confessed and bent down to kiss the cheek she offered. “I'm glad you're feeling better. This kind of stuff, it's hard and it scars but it doesn't stay heavy longer than we can stand it. You'll be all right."

"I know, thanks.” She felt a small loss as she watched the two brothers weave their way out of the bar, leaving her with Cody.

Of the three brothers he was the least intimidating, his demeanor not at all demanding. That nature allowed her to accept his first drink earlier in the week. He was the kind of guy most women felt good with, big and down-home handsome with incredibly strong shoulders and ripped arms. The look was one of a man who was no stranger to hard work.