“You’re sure?”
Dita exhaled, but the vise on her heart remained. “No.”
“If Ares killed Adonis,” she asked delicately, “do you really want to know?”
“Of course,” she answered without thinking, realizing the moment she’d said it that she didn’t. She didn’t want to know at all. “No,” she added, resigned. “I don’t. If he did, if I knew without a doubt that he’d murdered Adonis, that he’d been lying to me all this time, I don’t know what I’d do. I don’t know what it would mean or how I’d ever recover.”
Perry assessed her before nodding. “Well, think about whether or not you really want the answer. And if you do, we’ll figure it out once and for all.”
Dita looked down at Bisoux sleeping in her lap, but her eyes saw nothing.
The last weeks without Adonis were the first in thousands of years, and with that separation, with the time to herself and her thoughts, she’d found her perspective had changed. He was petulant, even more than she had really known, and the longer he avoided her, the longer he refused to consider her side, the further she drifted away from him.
Everything had changed. Adonis was gone. Apollo was her friend. And Ares …
If Ares had killed Adonis, everything she knew to be truth between them had been built on lies. The betrayal was more than she could fathom, but somehow, it seemed to be the only answer. The only one that made sense anyway.
Though she couldn’t blame him for keeping it from her. She’d sworn she would never forgive him.
And she didn’t break her promises.
Day 7
Kat dreamed she was a bird.
Her face was to the sun, the wind rushing over her as she flew over green hills, over sapphire oceans, up and up, on and on, until she came to rest on a cloud.
It wrapped itself around her, folding over her with a cool mist, but she wasn’t afraid. Because she felt peaceful. She felt happy.
She stirred, but she couldn’t move. Something heavy and warm curled around her, and she found herself in her body once more. Her eyes opened only a crack, her mind confused.
And then she remembered, and a jolt of shock zipped down her spine.
Dillon’s big arm hung over her bare waist, holding her body close to his, her back to his front. He was curved around her, his chest rising and falling slowly, his warmth passing through her skin, transferring to her.
She felt safe, she realized. Safe and warm and cared for. Even in sleep, he hadn’t turned or rolled away but curled around her like a cat, his nose in her hair and breath against the back of her neck. A sigh gathered from somewhere deep down in her chest and slipped out of her.
The night before worked its way through her mind in whispers. Falling asleep in his arms. His lips, those lips so close to her neck even now, lips that had brushed curves of her body, writing his name with his breath against her skin. The sweetness of his admissions, the truth of his character, which she saw now was not what had been impressed upon her in the beginning.
He was so much more.
And she wanted to know all of him.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, and she glanced at it, not wanting to move. But then it buzzed again. Then, again.
Dread was a living thing, and it slid through her veins like a snake as she stretched for her phone, not wanting to wake Dillon. Her fingers grazed it, moving it toward her until it was close enough to grab, and she hit her Home button.
The screen flashed with alerts stacked up like bricks. Dozens of phone calls and texts from two friends of hers in Vegas whom she’d asked to watch Eric.
She scanned them all, her heart stopping in her chest when she read this:
Saw Eric tonight at a party, and he was acting weird. He wouldn’t stop talking about Kiki and almost got in a fight with a bookie he was pumping for info on you. Thought you should know.
Panic set in, her mind razor-sharp for the first time in what felt like days.
Eric hadn’t forgotten about them like they’d hoped. And she’d left Kiki alone.
Guilt spurred the panic until her heart pounded, mind racing. She’d fucked up, fucked up so royally, let her guard down completely. She hadn’t thought twice about staying the night with Dillon. In fact, she hadn’t thought about Kiki at all.
It was stupid, so stupid. So reckless.
Her thoughts ran in circles, but the loudest was that she had to get to Kiki.
Could she slip out without waking him?
What if he woke?
What would she say?
She imagined telling him the truth, telling him about Eric, about Kiki, about their past. A stupid, cavalier part of her almost did right then, right there.
But telling him would only put him in danger.
There was no way out. Not without hurting him.
Not without hurting herself.
Because the truth in her heart was that she wanted him. And the fact was that she couldn’t have him. Not now. Not until the danger passed.
If it would ever pass.
Tears burned her eyes, stinging her nose as she glanced around the room for something to save her, deciding on a pillow that was within reach. She moved slowly, pulling it close, gingerly lifting his arm so she could slide out from under it, slipping the pillow in her place.
He stirred, squeezing it to his chest with a sigh, and she watched, still as stone, waiting for him to wake. But his only movement was the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest, and her only choice was to walk away.
And she hated every fucking thing about it.
Kat pulled on her clothes, watching him sleep, trying to hurry. She would call him and try to explain without explaining. She’d come up with some plan, some sort of plan.
She only hoped he would understand.
Kat picked up her shoes and took a last look at Dillon, his golden hair shining in the morning sunlight, his arms gripping that pillow that he thought was her. Her throat tightened, eyes brimming as she turned to leave, walking away as softly as she could, down the stairs. And then she scooped up her keys and trotted out the door, wishing she could reconfigure the stars that seemed so hell-bent on keeping her from what she wished for.
Dillon woke with a start when a car engine rumbled outside, wondering why he was hugging a pillow, sleepily glancing around the room.
And then he remembered.
Kat.
She was gone.
He bolted out of bed, snatching a pair of sweats that he hastily pulled on before pacing through the silent house, through the empty kitchen.
Brow furrowed, he ran a hand through his hair, wondering why, wondering what he’d done wrong, replaying the night in his mind. Everything had felt right. He’d convinced her to stay without needing to do much convincing at all. And she’d been more, so much more than he’d imagined. And he’d imagined a lot. He’d imagined the two of them as an explosion, imagined fire and heat, a fast, hot flash of skin against skin.
That was how it always was, and that was what he’d expected a woman like Kat to expect from him.
But that wasn’t what she’d wanted or what she’d given. It wasn’t what he’d given.
He couldn’t convince himself that he’d read her wrong. There was no way she’d just been caught in the moment. That moment was too real to stumble into and out of.
The thought that she’d only wanted a one-night stand twisted in his mind, twisted his lips into a frown, twisted his heart into a knot.
Maybe there was a more reasonable excuse. Maybe she had somewhere to be. He could call her, ask her, but that seemed wrong, seemed desperate.
Owen would know what to do.
Dillon trotted into his bedroom and to his phone, trying not to look at the bed they’d shared, the traces of her body in the curves of the rumpled sheets.
Kat just took off. She didn’t say goodbye, just left. Are you at her place?
A second later, his phone buzzed. Yeah. But what do you mean? Like before you were up?
br /> Yeah, IDK. I want to think there’s a reason, but I don’t feel good about this.
His phone buzzed again. Don’t assume anything, asshole. Call her. Heading that way in a few.
Dillon stared at his phone for a second in indecision, his stomach a den of snakes that he ignored as he pulled up her name to find out for sure what the hell was going on.
What the fuck am I going to do?
It was the only question in Kat’s head as she raced through Brooklyn toward her house, her mind turning around with her wheels.
She had to get her head straight. That was the first nonnegotiable task, made impossible by her panic over Eric, made worse by the scent of Dillon on her, the memory of the night before slipping in and out of her thoughts like smoke.
Her fears had been confirmed, and she didn’t feel the least bit smug about it.
Eric.
Her stomach turned at even the thought of his name, sour bile climbing up her esophagus as she bit back tears. The vise in her chest tightened with every second as she imagined all the ways he could find them without giving them time for a warning. He could fly. He could stop asking and just leave town. He could have already left, could already be on his way.
If he’d taken a red-eye, he’d already be there.
She pushed the accelerator to the limit of what she could handle.
Her phone rang from her passenger seat, and she reached for it, eyes on the road, nearly dropping it when she saw it was Dillon.
She should throw it back in her seat, but that stupid, cavalier part of her took over and answered.
“Hey,” she said without a clue what she was doing.
Dillon was silent for a moment. “You left,” he saids simply.
“I … I—” I’m sorry. I want you. It’s not my fault. Excuses piled up in her throat.
“If you didn’t want me, you should have just said so.” The words were hard, his assumptions perfectly clear.
She bristled. “Dillon—”
“I thought you were different. I thought that last night …” He paused. “I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought, does it?”
“I’m sorry,” was all she could say, the only explanation she could offer. “I can’t do this right now.”
“It’s not you, it’s me, right? Is that the next line?”
She breathed through the pain. “Something like that.”
Another pause. “Well, I guess that’s that.”
“I’m sor—”
“I’ll see you around, Kat.”
The line disconnected.
She threw her phone in the seat next to her, swallowing her tears as she turned into her alley.
The rejection in his voice, the sadness and anger and hurt, rang in her ears. She understood. He wanted her. And she wanted him, but she couldn’t have him.
If only Kiki hadn’t ever gotten wrapped up in Eric. If only she’d let Kat pull the trigger. If she’d just called their father, it would have been over. All of it. Her pain, her prison, her fear — all gone. Things would have been so different, if only.
But everything was fucked up and sideways, and she was caught in the middle, caught in the trap.
The loss of her life and dreams burned in her chest until the embers of resentment were all that were left.
It was all because of Kiki.
Family is everything.
She loved her sister more than anything, and because of that love, she’d do what she had to do.
But that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it.
Dillon stared at his phone in his hand, chest split open.
Kat didn’t care about him like he did her. She didn’t want him like he wanted her. He’d thought it had been unspoken, a promise whispered between them without a word.
He’d thought he’d known.
She’d snuck out like she was ashamed, and it left him ashamed, humiliated, rejected. Heartbroken.
Dillon buried his face in his hands, trying to grasp the situation, trying to get ahold of his emotions, trying to understand what had gone wrong, what he’d done. But there were no answers.
It was probably for the best.
His heart flung itself at his ribs in protest.
Dillon stood, his hands shaking as he shot a text to Owen and tossed his phone on the bed. He threw on sneakers and ran down the stairs, emotion rolling and boiling in his ribcage, slamming the door behind him hard enough, the windows rattled. And he took off in a dead sprint toward the gym with every footfall singing his regret.
Kat stormed into the house, tossing her keys on the bar before stomping up the stairs and into the living room.
Relief on finding her sister in one piece, sitting safely on the couch with a cup of coffee, did very little to temper her.
Because Kiki was the reason for her hurt, her pain. So she focused every bit of it into a fuming laser beam and trained it on her sister.
Kiki’s brows were drawn in concern. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Where’s Owen?” she asked, glancing toward the stairs.
“He just left.”
They waited in silence — Kiki watching Kat like she was crazy, Kat enraged and ready for a fight. Any fight would do.
“So,” Kiki started, breaking the silence, “what happened?”
“What do you think happened?” she snapped.
“Well, apparently what I think happened is wrong. What are you so bent about?”
Kat clenched her teeth and her fists at the same time. “You never should have pushed me into him.”
“What did he do?”
“Nothing. And nothing is going to come of it, so just swear to me you’re going to give it the fuck up.”
Kiki watched her. “I think maybe you’re freaking out just a little, Kat.”
“Don’t act like you know what I’m thinking,” Kat shot. “You have no idea what I’m thinking.”
“I’d be willing to bet that you don’t either.”
And that was the detonator. Kat blew.
“I’m thinking about you!” she yelled. “That’s all I ever do — think about you. It’s my responsibility to keep you safe, but you don’t give a shit about that. All you want to do is find yet another fucking guy, which is so far beyond stupid after what we’ve been through. The part where you conspired to get me to fuck his brother is new though. Wish granted. Does the backfire burn? ‘Cause it fucking feels great from where I’m standing.”
“Jesus Christ, Kat.”
“What, Kiki? What?” Kat shouted, throwing her hands up.
Kiki set her coffee on an end table and stood, leveling Kat with a glare. “I am sick and fucking tired of you using me as an excuse not to live your life.”
“I’m living my life,” she volleyed.
“No, you’re not, and you never have. You’re running from your life.”
“Fuck you, Kiki.” She turned for the stairs, the words too close to the truth.
But Kiki wasn’t through. “Don’t you fucking blame me because you’re too afraid to go after what you want.”
Kat turned on her sister, hands in fists. “I’m not afraid of anything. But let me ask you this; who’s responsible if Eric comes for you?”
“Fuck, Kat!” she cried, frustrated. “He’s not coming! Are you ever going to move on?”
“Move on?” Her eyes narrowed, voice low. “You should have let me kill that motherfucker. But no. You wanted him to live, so now it’s on me.” Kat touched her chest. “And until he’s dead, I will wonder if he’s going to show up. Because if he does, you’re not getting out of it with a heartbeat, and you know it. You wanted him alive — fine. But I’m the one who has to hide it from Dad because, if he finds out, Eric won’t just be dead. He’ll be tortured, his death long and slow and gruesome. And you know it.” She folded her arms across her chest as Kiki seethed. “Not that I give a shit. Part of me would love to see that prick in fifty pieces and two trash bags. Because there’s no moving on. Not from this. So shoul
d I go ahead and call Dad then? Or should I just go back to Vegas and kill him myself?”
Kiki said nothing.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
Kat turned again and walked toward the stairs, and that time, Kiki let her go.
Kat marched up and slammed the bathroom door, opening the glass door to turn on the shower. She peeled off her clothes — the smell of Dillon sent memories flashing through her mind — and stepped into the steaming stream, closing her eyes as she raised her face to the water, letting it run over her face. And her thoughts collided, careening into each other, exploding on impact.
But there wasn’t a single answer to be found.
She had to honor her promise to her sister. She had to bear the burden. Family was everything, all she had.
And the day she learned the lesson that would dictated so much of her future, her choice had been set in stone.
Kat drew another swoop with her sidewalk chalk on the driveway near the side of the house and stood to admire her work. The garden she’d drawn was pretty good — for a nine-year-old, she figured. The rose was swirly in the middle for the layers, and the blades of grass had taken her forever. She’d almost gotten sloppy at the end, ready to be done with it, but she was glad she hadn’t.
She couldn’t wait to show her mom.
Kiki’s sweet little voice drifted over as she played under the shade of the tree with her Barbies. They were all laid out on a blanket other than Ken and Barbie, who were on a date in their pink Corvette.
Grace popped her head out of the screen door. “Lunch is in a bit, girls. Five more minutes, okay?”
“Okay,” the girls sang in unison.
All three of them laughed as Grace closed the door.
The sound of an engine moving too fast caught Kat’s attention, and she looked up the street, her smile falling when she saw a black Mercedes zooming toward them. It pulled up to the curb in front of Kiki. By the time Kat realized something might be wrong, she’d only made it a few steps and stopped, hidden behind the shrubs and out of sight.
Two men stepped out, both wearing Hawaiian-print shirts that hung over their paunches. The driver waited with his arms resting on the roof of the running car and his eyes scanning the streets. The passenger left his door open and knelt on the sidewalk in front of Kiki with his elbows on his knees and fat hands hanging between his thighs.