He studied my face like an archeologist with found spoils, rapt and discerning, as if he could read all my secrets so easily in my features.
Maybe he could.
I knew from experience with Tayline, Cyclops’ on and off old lady, that runaways grew up well before their time.
I leaned closer to him to whisper, “When I didn’t have any family left, not really, these guys took me in, and I’ve never looked back. Not once. That man who talked to you? He’s been my guardian monster since before I was even your age, and he’s taken really good care of me for that whole time.” I traced my finger over the edge of his sweet face and knew he would be heart-stoppingly lovely without all that grime and all the grief mucking it up. “I know he’ll take good care of you too. We all will.”
His gaze searched my smile for sincerity, and finding it, he nodded once, almost curtly and slowly started to stand. Zeus and I stood with him, slower so as not to spook him, but when we were up, he scooted between us and the wall, naturally using us a protection against the rest of the strangers in the room.
My heart did some strange twisty motion in my chest. Unconsciously, my hand went to my stomach where my babies lived, and I wondered, shockingly and powerfully, if we’d added to our family even sooner than we’d anticipated.
Cressida and I helped him get clean. He didn’t want us with him in the bathroom, but we turned on the shower, gathered towels, a pair of Z’s socks that would be way too large on him, but would at least give him some comfort from the elements, and old coat of King’s we found in a storage bin stacked in the new crawl space.
When he emerged from the steamy room, he was transformed, and the beauty of the little guy made my eyes sting with tears. He was clearly Hispanic, his rich black hair kinky, but too short to tell if it would just wave or curl, and his skin that luxe olive tone that kept a tan long after it saw the sun.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever fallen in love at first sight. Falling in love with Zeus had been a gradual thing, like a seed planted in my soul at six years old that grew into an immovable, majestic oak as time marched on and the connection between us never waned.
But looking at that boy with his thick lashed eyes and troubled mouth, I knew I’d love him until the day I died if he let me.
Zeus’s words from years ago echoed in my head, how could a guardian monster abandon his girl when she needed him?
I understood then, in a way only a parent could, that I wouldn’t abandon this boy, not when he so clearly needed someone to put him first for a change.
Without hesitation, I moved forward to stand beside him and offered him my hand. He stared at it in trepidation, before biting his lip and sliding his smooth, warm hand in mine. I squeezed it gently and leaned down to smile at him.
“Are you ready to see Zeus chop down a tree?”
Interest flared in his eyes, but he only nodded slightly.
I decided that was enough.
His silence and the quality of thoughtfulness in his gaze reminded me all too acutely of Mute. I still felt his loss every single day of my life, especially now when I was pregnant and desperately hoping to have a boy so that we could name him after my quiet protector.
“You okay?” Cressida asked, startling me out of my daze.
There was empathy in her dappled green and brown eyes, an understanding of the layers of palimpsest that superseded this moment.
I gave her a little grin and leaned into her hand when she reached out to move it down my hair. “Life’s strange, isn’t it?”
“Stranger than fiction,” she quipped. “And I should know, I’m a literature professor.”
We shared a soft laugh that was more about intimacy than humour and then moved together into the house.
The rest of the group was already gathered outside, and I lost my breath again, this time to the sight of my husband trussed up to chop down the perfect Christmas tree.
He was still in his heavy boots and old, dark wash jeans, the hem soaked through from the snow, but he’d shed his black duffel jacket and Hephaestus auto sweatshirt to reveal a skintight black Under Armor shirt that conformed to every single one of his many and magnificent muscles.
My mouth went dry, and moisture pooled between my legs.
Cressida laughed beside me. “Hold it together, girl. We’ve got business to attend to before you jump your man.”
“Can you blame me?” I asked.
Her eyes slid to King who had a black toque pulled lower over his riot of blond waves, his thick sweater pushed up to reveal his corded forearms, and an axe tossed over one shoulder.
“No,” she said slowly, high colour burnishing her cheeks. “No, I most definitely cannot.”
Harleigh Rose appeared in front of us and groaned dramatically. “Seriously, guys, haven’t we talked about this? You perving on my dad and brother in front of me has got to stop.”
Cressida slung an arm around her shoulders and curled her into her chest to place a kiss on her streaky blond head. “Not possible. Sorry, honey. Trust me, one day, you’ll understand what it’s like to have a hot man, and you will absolutely not begrudge us some harmless ogling.”
She snorted and swiped at Cress’s mouth. “You’ve got some drool just there.”
Cress laughed and shoved her away.
“’Nough of that,” Zeus called out, swinging his axe through the air and then catching it by the handle. “We got serious business to attend to. Hey, kid! You ever swung an axe before?”
The little hand in mine tensed slightly, and I looked down to find his eyes wide with eagerness.
Zeus caught it too. “You want me to teach you how to cut down a tree ten times bigger ’an you?”
The boy jerked his head in an eager nod and dislodged my hand to hustle over to Zeus. My man grinned wolfishly at me, triumphant that the kid already liked him more.
“Wait till I make him chilli,” I countered. “Then he’ll like me more.”
“Hey, bitch, that recipe is mine,” Harleigh Rose groused, bumping me with her hip as she moved past and jerked her chin at the kid. “You wanna race me to the treeline? I warn you, I’m fast.”
She took off, hair a streak of gold behind her, long limbs churning as she galloped through the knee-deep snow to the gloom of the forest to the left of the driveway.
The kid watched with his big, unblinking eyes, and then turned to look up at Zeus expectantly.
Z stifled a laugh and put a heavy hand on his small shoulder, squeezing in a show of comradery. “Let’s go chop some wood.”
The Kid.
It didn’t seem real.
A family like the Garros.
They were all so… big.
Men with big bodies, big hands, big personalities that lit up rooms in big ways.
Women with big hair, big styles, big hearts they wore on their sleeves for me to pluck at and keep if I wanted.
I didn’t know what I wanted because until I’d met the Garros, I’d never been asked.
A kid wasn’t meant for nothin’ but growing older so he could be put to work.
That was if he was poor. A solider born by a solider to be a solider.
In my old life, I hadn’t been poor.
I was born royal to be royal.
Only my parents’ kingdom was built on hatred and lies.