“I thought you could use a few more minutes, but then your scent changed,” Jono said.
Patrick grimaced and shoved himself to a sitting position. Not having permanent shields anchored to his bones that stayed locked down even when he wasn’t consciously powering them would take some getting used to.
“I’m all right.”
He wasn’t, and Jono saw through the lie for the truth Patrick desperately wanted to keep hidden. Jono cupped his jaw, thumb stroking over his cheek with gentle pressure.
“You know I don’t blame you for what Andras did,” Jono said softly.
Patrick’s gaze flicked down to Jono’s right arm, the limb whole, but he saw the ruin of it at night when he dreamed. The werevirus meant Jono wouldn’t live the rest of his life as an amputee, but that didn’t stop Patrick from remembering it was his hand that had thrown the attack spell at Jono.
“I couldn’t stop it. I watched it happen and did nothing.”
The words were bitter on his tongue, and Jono’s insistence that it wasn’t his fault couldn’t stop Patrick’s guilt.
Jono leaned down to kiss him carefully on the mouth, lips firm and warm. “And that’s why there’s nothing to forgive, so don’t apologize. I’ll keep saying that until you believe it, for as long as you need to hear it.”
Patrick swung his legs over the side of the bed, hoping the dress pants hadn’t gotten too wrinkled from his impromptu nap. Sleep had been difficult to come by since Saturday, and tonight was too important to miss because Jono thought he needed a nap.
“I don’t want to be late,” Patrick said as he stood.
Jono handed him the gray silk tie he’d chosen for dinner that night. “We have time.”
The rehearsal dinner was happening hours after the actual walk-through of the ceremony’s venue. It had given them enough time to head home and get ready after walking around in the summer heat.
Patrick went to their bathroom to fix his tie, deftly knotting it around his throat. He was adjusting the knot when his phone started ringing.
“Who is it?” Patrick called out.
“It’s a number, no name.”
Patrick frowned and left the bathroom to grab his phone from the nightstand. He didn’t recognize the number. It took a moment for him to realize it had the Salem area code, and when he did, he dropped the phone like it had burned him, breaking out into a cold sweat
“Who is it?” Jono asked with a frown as he buttoned up his suit jacket.
Patrick swallowed dryly. “Eloise.”
He stared at his phone like it might bite him. The call eventually rolled over to voicemail. It beeped a minute later with a message notification. Patrick took a steadying breath before picking up his phone again to listen to the message.
“Patrick, this is your grandmother. I’m calling because I don’t know if you’ve seen my press conference, or if Director Abuku has relayed my messages to you. I want you to know that your family misses you, thatImiss you, and we would really like to meet with you. Please, give me a call.”
The message clicked off after she listed out her phone number, and Patrick couldn’t decide whether to save or delete it.
“Will you call her back?” Jono asked.
“I don’t know.”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to.”
“I’m not calling her when we’re about to leave for the reception dinner.”
“Wasn’t suggesting that.” Jono took the phone from him and slipped it into Patrick’s inner suit jacket pocket. “I’m just saying you don’t owe the lot of them anything.”
“I don’t even know how she got my number.”
“Someone probably leaked it.”
Patrick blew out a harsh breath, licking sweat off his upper lip. “She said she missed me. How can you miss someone you don’t know?”
