Will & Patrick Meet the Mob by Leta Blake, Alice Griffiths Page B

knows Addison has been to sleepovers at the Patterson house.
    “Hi, Addy. I’d heard you were in here.” Will steps a little closer, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Hospital stays suck, huh?”
    “Yeah, they do. Why are you visiting me?”
    “He’s not. Well, not really. He’s with me,” Patrick says, shrugging. “I’m letting him tag along today.”
    “I heard you guys got married.”
    “In Vegas. Love at first sight. You know the score.” Patrick examines the nurses’ notes on the white board across from her bed. Everything looks good and he agrees with the protocol listed for the day. 
    Addison laughs. “You were so drunk, weren’t you?”
    Patrick snorts and nods. Addison’s chart is in the cubby by the door, and he flips it open. He scans the new information scribbled over the last twenty-four hours. He nods to see they’ve assigned her care to Dr. Lerma for the time being. She’s a competent and not completely talentless surgeon.
    “I knew it. Caitlin said you were both schnockered out of your minds.”
    Patrick shrugs. “How’s that song go? Some say love is…yadda, whatever, something about a tender reed. But I say love is five Jack Daniels and the proof my shiny ring.” Patrick holds up his left hand.
    “You’re so weird, Dr. McCloud.” Addison laughs. “I’m a teenager! You’re supposed to tell me drinking is wrong and stuff. Not how you found true love by getting drunk in a Vegas bar.”
    “Who said anything about a bar?” Patrick asks, pulling his stethoscope out of his bag and listening to her heart. “I mean, we were in a bar. Obviously. That’s where grownups drink. In bars. But I didn’t say anything about a bar.”
    Addison rolls her eyes.
    “But now that you mention it, alcohol is a bad idea. For one thing, it’ll feed that brain tumor of yours and make my job even harder.”
    “Speaking of your job,” she says, the smile falling from her face. “What’s going on? Dr. Knife told me Dr. Lerma is taking over my case for a little while? Why? You promised you could help me.”
    Patrick sits facing her on the bed, his hip against her knee. “It’s dumb grownup stuff. Nothing to do with you.”
    “But I want you to be my doctor.”
    “I want that too. And you don’t need to worry. I’m going to be the one who does your operation, just like we discussed.” Addison’s smile comes back to her eyes and Patrick hates that what he says next is going to take it away again. “But it can’t be this week.”
    “Why not? I’m ready. I’m so ready. I want to stop being scared that I’m going to die.”
    Will makes a soft, comforting sound from where he stands several feet away.
    “I’m ready too,” Patrick says. “But we can’t do it next week. That’s all I can say about it, unfortunately. But I wanted to tell you in person I haven’t abandoned you. We’re gonna get this thing out of your head.”
    “You promise?”
    “I promise. So chin up. Got it?”
    Addison’s dark eyes glow and she puts her chin out, determined. “Got it.”
    “Good.” He starts to stand but Addison grabs his hand.
    “Wait. Tell me again everything’s going to be okay. I believe it when you say it, Dr. McCloud.”
    “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to get out of here before your sixteenth birthday, just like I told you, and you’ll play in a million soccer games, and star in a hundred plays, and grow up to date dozens of devastatingly handsome men.”
    “Yeah?” Addison laughs.
    “Yeah. And you’ll call every year on your birthday to thank my voicemail for saving your life.”
    Addison giggles. “Your voicemail?”
    “Of course. I’ll be way too busy to take your calls.”
    Addison cracks up, and he hears Will’s soft laugh from behind him. Patrick pats Addison’s leg. “I gotta go now. But stay brave and strong. We’ll do this surgery as soon as we can.”
    “Deal,” Addison says, and her smile is huge.
    Patrick walks past Will and slams right into a