Nadine had traded in her rental SUV for a nondescript car taken from the PIA’s motor pool. Patrick got in the front passenger seat and buckled up, staring tiredly out the windshield.
“Here,” Nadine said, handing him the coffee thermos sitting in the cup holder between their seats. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”
“You’ve done more than enough, and you know it.” Patrick took the thermos and thumbed it open. The smell of whiskey-tinged coffee reached his nose, and he sighed happily. “Thanks.”
“Figured you could use some liquid courage,” Nadine said as she pulled into the street.
Patrick froze with the thermos against his mouth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Take a wild guess.”
Suddenly the coffee made his stomach churn.
The thing about having friends was that sometimes they wouldn’t let him wallow in his guilt. He should’ve known Nadine wouldn’t indulge his vices without an ulterior motive.
The drive to his apartment didn’t take that long. Patrick wished it could have lasted forever.
“Can I request a ride to the airport instead?” Patrick asked when she finally stopped in front of the apartment building.
“No.” When Nadine looked at him, all he saw was encouragement in her eyes. “He doesn’t blame you.”
Patrick shook his head. “He should.”
Patrick got out and let the door slam shut behind him. Nadine drove off without a backward glance. He ducked his head against the drizzle still coming down and pulled his keys out of his jacket pocket. He’d lost his original set during the fight and these were his second, reissued set. He’d have to return them soon, because no way was he staying in this place permanently.
Patrick made it to the apartment and was unsurprised when the door opened before he could stick his key into the lock. He held on to the key tight enough it left an imprint against his palm as he stared at the man who’d occupied nearly all of his thoughts since waking up after the fight.
Jono stood framed in the doorway, alive and in one piece, even if it was all a lie. Jono’s soul no longer belonged only to him, and Patrick would never forgive himself for doing that. Patrick drank in the sight of him, noticing the dark circles under Jono’s eyes, the beard growth that needed a good shave, and the exhaustion in every line of his body.
“Hi,” Patrick croaked out.
Jono stared at him, wolf-bright eyes drifting up and down his body. “Shouldn’t you be in hospital still?”
“I hate hospitals. I signed myself out.”
Jono huffed out a tired sigh, running a hand through his messy black hair. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “Of course you did.”
Jono pushed the door open and stepped aside. Patrick walked past him, shoulders hunched, waiting for a blow that never came. He followed Jono into the living room and shrugged out of his leather jacket, hanging it off the back of a dining room chair.
“Have you been staying here?” Patrick asked.
“I’ve been staying at Marek’s. I came here this morning because Nadine told me to meet her. Guess I know why now.”
“How is Marek? And Emma? What about her pack?”
“They’re all right. Marek is in a bit of a tiff with Youssef and Estelle. They weren’t pleased about the Tempest pack fighting on summer solstice.” He paused, staring at Patrick with tired eyes. “They’re angrier at me for being at the center of the entire cock-up.”
Patrick was aware that maybe, admittedly, he wasn’t ready for this conversation. But hiding would only push off the inevitable because here, now, this was where he faced his mistakes. To not make amends would be criminal.
Swallowing against the sudden dryness in his mouth, Patrick forced himself to look Jono in the eye. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about, Pat.”
The soulbond they shared now said otherwise, and always would.
Patrick could see how Jono’s soul bled through his aura now, like he had magic when he didn’t. The lack of wounds on his body was nothing compared to what Patrick had done to Jono’s soul without permission.
His whiskey-laced coffee wanted to crawl back up his throat. “This is my fault.”
