An Echo in the Sorrow (Soulbound, #6)

by Hailey Turner

They were already bound to each other, having promised to never leave, but Jono wouldn’t mind seeing Patrick wearing a wedding band.

He tried not to think how moments like this, lying in bed with each other, might be limited.

“He gave me a family. That’s more than you’ve ever done for me.”

But a house doesn’t make a home if you’re a burden to the people in it.”

“The murder of Youssef Khan.”

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“It’s a pair of fucking shoes. I’m not arming him, and you aren’t walking him out of our home in front of the media in bare feet,” Jono snapped.

“You can take your sodding attitude and get the fuck out of my face.”

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“I love you,” Jono said as he stood. Patrick’s gaze never wavered. “I’ll come back.”

“Can I throw rocks at them?” Wade asked, peering through the blinds at the mob of press waiting on the sidewalk below the flat. “No,” Jono said. “What about flowerpots?” “We don’t have any, but even if we did, no.” “What if I singe them? Just a little bit?” “And have that be a breaking news story? No, Wade. You are not allowed to singe the press.” Wade stepped away from the window, grumbling under his breath. “Fine.”

“I want Patrick to get here so we can eat,” Wade said as he flopped down onto the armchair. “I bet he’s hungry. Prison food always looks gross in movies.” “Have we found something you won’t eat?” Sage asked, not looking up from her laptop. Wade frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe? Not like a jail could hold me. I could’ve busted Patrick out, now that I think about it. One tail flick⁠—” “There will be no destroying federal buildings,” Jono interrupted. “Stop taking after Patrick.” “Someone has to until he gets back.”

He’d kept enough secrets over the years, buried enough truth to survive. Time for some of it to see the light of day again.

He was done praying to the gods and kneeling before their altars. Love was the only altar Jono would ever worship at from here on out, and Patrick would be the only one to hear his prayers.

She touched Patrick’s face, and he didn’t pull away; Jono wished he would. “Honed yourself sharp over the years I was gone, did you?” Patrick swallowed hard enough Jono could hear the sound of it in his throat. “That’s what you taught me.” “Then remember not to break.”

“You’ve carried those lies long enough.”

“You face a hell you cannot outrun if what you sacrifice is not enough.”

there’s a difference between wanting you and wanting to murder you.” “You want me.” “Yes, but there are some days you’re so bloody stubborn I think about murder. It’d be purely out of love though.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t murder anyone. Some of those questions were close to being out of line,” Gerard said. Patrick glared at him, and Gerard laughed. “Too soon?”

“You’re why I’m getting gray hairs in my thirties.” “It makes you look distinguished.” “It makes me want to strangle you.”

“You know nothing of worth. Our myths always end, in one way or another. Our lives ebb and flow with the prayers that sustain us and bury us. We are an echo of what we once were. Ethan will build his hell, but you must turn it into his Armageddon, his Ragnarök, his myth’s ending, because gods are never born or reborn easy, and dying is harder than you think.”

“Patrick is the only hope your precious goddess has that Ethan won’t turn our world into a fucking hell,” Jono snarled. “You cast your lot in with the heavens in this war. This is the side you fight for. We are who you need to support. So shut your fucking gob and call the fae to fight.”

“It’s not your fault, and it never will be.” “Okay.” Wade tightened his hold a little. “I found a new bakery by my apartment. They have really good cupcakes. I’ll buy you some.”

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“Even if you can never find me, I’ll always come back.”