Jono kept his eyes on the road for the entire drive back to the flat out of sheer will alone. He still ran three red lights, cut off ten cars, and pissed off more than one taxi driver.
“Next time, I’ll drive,” Wade announced once they were parked a block away from the flat in Chelsea.
“Did you get your license already?” Patrick asked.
“Nope.”
“Then you’re not driving.”
Jono listened to the pair argue all the way to the front door of the flat, the happiness radiating from both of them putting a smile on his face. Wade kept brushing against Patrick, who didn’t mind the encroachment of his space at all. Once they were in the flat, and Patrick was dripping seawater all over the floor, Jono snapped out of his daze.
“Let’s get you washed up. You need a hot shower and a change of clothes,” Jono said.
Patrick shrugged out of his leather jacket, Wade snagging it with eager hands. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Jono left Wade to figure out dinner with Sage when she arrived while he ushered Patrick into their bedroom’s master bathroom. The clothes he wore were filthy, and Jono made the executive decision to bin the lot while Patrick stepped under the hot shower spray to get clean. When he picked up the leather sheath along with Patrick’s ruined jeans, he realized it was empty.
“Where’s your dagger?” Jono asked.
Patrick squinted through the shampoo suds running down his face, his features a little blurred through the plastic shower curtain. “I gave it back to the gods. I don’t need it anymore.”
Jono ran a finger along the length of one strap. “So it’s really over.”
The rattle of the shower curtain being shoved aside had him looking back. Patrick leaned over the tub, beckoning him closer, and Jono went where he was always wanted. Patrick’s hand curved over the back of his neck, pulling Jono down into a kiss that was fiercer than the ones they’d shared in the bar. Jono stepped closer, hands resting on slick skin as he let Patrick take what he wanted.
“It’s over,” Patrick affirmed when he broke the kiss, a weariness to his voice that was for Jono’s ears alone.
His scent was a tangle of emotions that filled Jono’s nose, and none of it could be sorted right then. Best they could do was take it one day at a time, but Jono was okay with that, because he knew that every morning when he woke up from here on out, Patrick would be lying beside him once again.
They’d face the future how they always had—together.
“Finish up so we can chat,” Jono said as he stepped back. “There’s loads I have to tell you.”
Patrick nodded, a smile lingering on his mouth as he twitched the shower curtain closed again. Jono hummed softly under his breath as he went to retrieve a set of clean clothes for Patrick, the soulbond singing between them.
37
Washington,DC, in May was muggier than usual, the change linked to the reactionary storms from last year. Patrick knew from experience it would take time for the weather systems to rebalance themselves. He was just grateful the national headquarters for the SOA had air-conditioning.
Sitting in front of the desk that Setsuna used to inhabit and which Priya had taken over was bittersweet in a way. For him, Setsuna’s death felt as if it had been yesterday, when in reality for him, it was a month, while for everyone else, it was half a year. The horrific tearing of the veil during Samhain meant Patrick had lost months and months while gone.
He tried not to feel terrible about something out of his control. His pack had managed well enough in his absence, and Patrick knew they’d missed him, but being gone for six months was still a long time. It was even longer for the government.
“I wasn’t hiding. I don’t see why Congress can’t understand that. It’s not like this was the first time the veil tore on Earth,” Patrick said irritably.
Priya hummed thoughtfully as she flipped through Patrick’s report on her desk. It was incredibly thick and had taken Patrick nearly a week to write up after his reappearance had hit the news and gone viral. Since then, he’d spent just as much time in DC as he had in New York.
“It’s the first time you weren’t around to issue an after-action report. As you were the lynchpin of everything that occurred, you can understand why Congress has been champing at the bit to complete their investigation,” Priya said.
“Our reports weren’t good enough?” Jono asked from his spot on the chair next to Patrick’s.
He tightened his grip on Jono’s thigh, not caring that it wasn’t professional to touch each other like this in front of the Director of the Supernatural Operations Agency. He wasn’t ready to let go yet, especially after the six hours he’d spent getting interrogated by senators. Patrick’s debrief by officers in the Pentagon had happened yesterday, and he was feeling more than a little worn-out. It was his third debrief in as many weeks, and he was honestly tired of it.
“Your reports over the last several months have been acceptable for the most part, but you and your pack aren’t Collins,” Priya said.
Patrick slumped in his chair, sighing loudly. He’d missed a lot, and something he regretted about his absence was the absolute hell his pack had gone through in the political and military circles. When the earthly powers that be wanted answers, they weren’t above harassing people to get them.
Priya closed the report and set it aside, the Eyes Only stamp on the front cover a glaring red against the black text. “As glad as I am that you returned, we do need to discuss your standing within the agency.”
