“We held out hope we’d get to bury you in our family’s cemetery. We wanted that closure.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
Madelyn wiped the tears from her eyes before stepping around the coffee table. Patrick tensed, not sure what she wanted and unprepared for what it ended up being.
A hug.
Madelyn wrapped her arms around him, hugging him as tight as she could. Patrick didn’t know what to do with his arms for a few seconds before he very carefully hugged her back, holding himself stiffly.
“Thank you for protecting our family today,” Madelyn murmured. “And thank you for coming back to us, Patrick. You might go by Collins these days, but you’re still a Patterson to us, and always will be.”
He swallowed tightly, nodding jerkily before pulling away. Madelyn let him go, giving him a watery smile. When Patrick searched her face, he didn’t see any anger in her eyes.
“Will you let us know what happens?” Grant asked, sounding more tired than fearfully angry now.
“If it’s about Eloise and within my ability to safely do so, then yes,” Patrick promised.
It was the least he owed them for putting the family at risk.
“You’ll need our phone numbers,” Madelyn said.
They exchanged numbers before he broke the silence ward. Sound rushed back in, the murmur of voices and crash of thunder overhead filling Patrick’s ears. It wasn’t much longer after that when Rapid Response Division’s team deployed out of Boston arrived, having probably driven with lights and sirens the entire way. Patrick handed over the scene to them upon their arrival, ready to get back on the road.
The storm was still raging when they left the Patterson home and hurried to the car. Patrick was the one who got behind the steering wheel this time, fully focused on getting back to New York City while Jono seemed more focused on him. Nadine sprawled out in the back seat and went immediately to sleep, having nodded off in worse places over the years.
“Promise me you won’t give Ethan anything he wants,” Jono said an hour into the drive.
Patrick gripped the steering wheel tighter, eyes on the horizon, and bit his tongue so he wouldn’t lie.
“Patrick. Please.”
“I can’t promise that,” Patrick got out, practically choking on the words. “You know why.”
“If Ethan has a remade Morrígan’s staff, we won’t be able to stop him before he turns himself into a god.”
“And I’d like everyone I’m related to or who I care about to stopdying.”
Jono reached over the console to settle his hand on Patrick’s thigh, his touch warm even through Patrick’s damp jeans. “Setsuna’s death wasn’t your fault, and neither was losing Eloise.”
“Yeah? What about when I went and blew off half your arm?”
“You couldn’t stop that from happening either, because it wasn’tyou. It wasn’t your fault. I’ll keep saying that until you believe it, but I need you alive to do that.”
“The Pattersons welcomed me recently, and their threshold knows me. Ethan wouldn’t have been able to get past it and grab her if he didn’t have my blood. If I hadn’t gone back.”
“That still doesn’t make it your fault. You were kidnapped by Andras and Hades. You were in no position to stop them from taking your blood. For all you know he used Hannah’s.”
“There’s no way to know for sure.”
“Exactly, so stop taking all the blame.”
Patrick eased up a bit on the gas pedal as traffic started to slow. “Just once I want to do whatIwant, not what the gods require me to do.”
He’d been at their beck and call for over two decades, and other people had paid the price of his position when it should’ve been him every time. He was tired of standing at gravesites, staring at the names of people who should still be alive.
Jono’s fingers dug into his thigh, and his touch grounded Patrick in a way nothing else ever had. “Tell me if you plan to hand over the piece of the Morrígan’s staff. Can you promise me that?”
Patrick chewed on his bottom lip before finally nodding. “Yeah.”
