Jono and Sage still mostly handled the decision-making in that area, though they’d started delegating more responsibilities to Camilo Rivera, Sahil Agarwal, and Linh Nguyen. The three new god pack members they’d accepted into their god pack after a rigorous interview process had settled in well over the past few weeks. They came with good recommendations from their former god packs, and Fenrir had approved of them, but Jono still worried about what Patrick would think.
The fleeting thought about Patrick came and went, less agonizing than it used to be. Jono didn’t spend every moment of the day thinking about his lover, though it had taken time to get to that point. It was going on six months without seeing Patrick’s face in person and not in photos on his mobile. People had stopped asking him about Patrick, and he’d gotten used to the pitying looks sometimes thrown his way.
Jono knew Patrick wasn’t dead or missing, merely gone to do his duty. He didn’t care what the world thought, and neither did Sage or Wade. They’d keep vigil in his absence, but they couldn’t stop living their lives. Jono knew Patrick wouldn’t want that for them. And while it got lonely, especially at night, Jono got up every morning, ready to face the day.
“Can’t I have one summer off?” Wade whinged, finally sitting up.
“Sure,” Sage said. “Next year, if you pass all your classes during the normal semesters.”
Wade looked absolutely put out and shot Jono a pleading look he refused to succumb to. Jono shook his head. “You know what Sage says goes.”
Wade sighed loudly. “I know.”
His sulk lasted only about thirty more seconds, because that’s when Jono caught the smell of tacos. Leon traversed the crowd in front of the bar, arms held above his head, takeaway bags dangling from both hands.
“I brought dinner,” Leon announced.
“We both did,” Emma said, squeezing between Sage and Wade. She deposited the largest bag in front of Wade. “We got extra, so you can have this one.”
“You’re my favorite,” Wade said. Then he ripped open the plastic like it was the enemy and dug in.
“And then you need to leave.”
“I take it back. The tacos are my favorite.”
Emma leaned over the counter and offered Jono a carton, but he shook his head. “Let me finish up a few more drinks, then I’ll eat with you.”
She set the carton on the counter and passed out a couple more. The smell of meat and salsa filled the immediate area, reminding Jono that lunch had been hours ago. He hurried through making a couple more drinks, the other two bartenders on duty glad for the help. He made a mental note of some of the emptier alcohol bottles that needed a replenish. He’d have to make sure they made it on the order list for tomorrow.
Jono ducked out from behind the bar and slid through the crowd to where his pack was clustered. Linh had arrived in the few minutes he’d been helping customers, and the petite Vietnamese woman flashed him a quick smile from her spot behind Emma. Linh was older than him by five years, but she certainly didn’t look it. She’d been the first they’d accepted into their god pack, a weregrizzly who had become a steady, reliable member over the last two months.
“Camilo wanted me to let you know he’s running a little late but he’ll be here. There’s a delay in the subway,” Linh said, bright amber eyes reflecting the light in the bar.
“Typical for the subway,” Jono said.
“I drove, so if you want me to take Wade home, I can.”
“After I finish my tacos,” Wade mumbled around a half-eaten al pastor one.
“You can finish the rest at home. I don’t want to risk a fine with you being underage. Even Casale can’t turn a blind eye to that,” Jono told him.
“I can’t believe I can fight the denizens of hell, but I can’t sit in my pack’s bar and share a meal with them.”
Jono would’ve responded to that if it didn’t suddenly feel as if he were being stabbed in the chest. Searing pain radiated through his ribs and down his arms and legs. The agony of it had him doubling over, unable to breathe, lungs on fire as the soulbond suddenly snapped into place in a way it hadn’t for months andmonths. Frantic voices were a muddled mess in his ears, hands grabbing at him as he went to one knee, still clutching at his chest.
He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t call out the only name that had a place in the prayers he always said alone.
Then the veil ripped open in the air above everyone’s heads, and a veritable waterfall of icy liquid crashed down. Jono breathed in water and coughed hard to clear it from his lungs, ducking his head to try to keep his mouth and nose free of it. Wade’s hand wrapped around his upper arm in a bruising grip, keeping him upright as too many others were taken down to the floor.
“Motherfucker. I’m going to punch that bastard in the face if I ever see him again.”
Jono’s heart stuttered out of rhythm in his chest, the sheer joy of hearing that voice in his ears again enough to make him choke on a giddy laugh that came out on a name.
“Patrick.”
Jono wrenched free of Wade and twisted around. His gaze landed on the figure sprawled on Tempest’s floor, ginger hair slicked to his skull, soaked clothes the same as he’d worn back during the fight on Samhain half a year ago.
Jono didn’t know he’d moved until he blinked, already reaching for Patrick, desperate to touch, to make sure this wasn’t a dream. He wrapped one hand around the collar of Patrick’s shirt, hauling him up so Jono could cradle the back of his head with the other and kiss him until it hurt to breathe.
