You Looked Down on Me Once Now You Look Up (Patricia and Oliver) novel Chapter 380

Patricia was kneeling on the couch, just about to crawl over, when Oliver stood and scooped her up, his arms sliding easily under her shoulders. “You know you’re not supposed to be on your knees,” he said.

“I’m fine, really,” Patricia replied.

“Let’s not risk it. Your uncle sends me a warning every single day. I swear, he’s got me jumping,” Oliver sighed.

Each morning, as soon as he woke up, there it was—another message from Atticus. Like a daily check-in. Never skipped.

Patricia knew all about it and couldn’t help but laugh, her whole body trembling with it.

Oliver nudged the fruit bowl back into her hands. “Sean might have stepped down, but he still has people here in Riverdale. If he wants to stir things up, it’s not exactly hard. The problem is, with everything this tense, he should be in Golden Bay, not here sticking his nose in. Sooner or later, one side’s going to trip him up.”

“Both Riverdale and Golden Bay have their own plans in motion. You won’t have to worry about your side,” Patricia told him.

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “You know what I’m planning?”

She grinned. “Of course.”

He chuckled. “I asked Jackson.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“You were asleep last night, and I needed to check something quickly to make sure my plans wouldn’t mess up yours. So I called Jackson instead.”

“If what you’re doing is more important, it’s fine if it gets in the way of my stuff—” she started.

He cut her off, shaking his head. “Silly girl. You won’t even let me help you, which already makes me feel useless. If I actually got in your way? I’d be a pretty lousy man. Sara’s always teasing me, saying I’m just some washed-up old househusband.”

Sara had joked, more than once, that he wasn’t doing enough to help Patricia get her revenge.

He never had anywhere to complain. Not that he dared—he was afraid Patricia would get upset if she heard.

When Patricia heard him say “washed-up old househusband,” she couldn’t hold back and burst out laughing.

She popped a cherry into his mouth. “Poor thing. I’ll make it up to you.”

Mr. Padilla nodded solemnly. “I’m counting on it. Spoil me, will you?”

“Treat yourself, you deserve it. It’s not often you get a quiet night. After the festival, you’ll be buried in the Newton family case again. Rich folks who think the law doesn’t apply to them—such a pain.”

They chatted about nothing in particular as time passed.

Soon, his coworker came back from the food stall across the street, carrying a bag of fresh barbecue and a can of beer.

“I told the owner we’re on shift and can’t drink. He said to save it for next time, just eat while it’s hot.”

The smell of grilled meat filled the air, and Brandon realized just how hungry he was.

He dug in, not bothering to talk, just eating.

He was barely halfway through when his phone rang. It was the detention center.

“Mr. Lantz, there’s been an emergency.”

“Mrs. Newton collapsed ten minutes ago—she’s having seizures and foaming at the mouth. They’ve taken her to the ER…”