A lump formed in my throat, but I pushed it down. The last place I needed to be vulnerable was in this office. No telling what Hestia could coax out of me if I ever let my guard down. That guard had been up for fourteen years, and it had become an almost impenetrable armor. Built to protect me from, well, everything and everyone.
Hestia and my father both smiled, pleased at my reaction.
I folded my arms, determined not to giggle again.
But my father was apparently just as determined as I was. He reached over and took my hand. A surge of affection pulsed through me, trying to breach my defenses. Trying to breach my heart, which I feared was permanently impenetrable.
I knew I should quit trying to fight him. He was all I had. But because of him, I was something I never wanted to be. And I was never the person I thought I was. Where did that leave me? I supposed in a black muumuu trying to protect people against the dangers of reckless love. The kind of love that had created me. The kind of love that had once tried to consume me.
“So why am I here?” I asked.
Father squeezed my hand. “I wanted to check in with you.”
“You could have come to my office or even my apartment, for that matter.” My apartment was the penthouse suite of the building. Basically, I never left this place. I was too afraidof being recognized. Besides, Demeter’s daughter ran a great little café inside the building that I ordered takeout from for every meal. I had my own pool, gym, and home theater connected not only to every mortal streaming channel but also to the Greek God Network, and let me tell you, the telenovela has nothing on the gods.
Shows likeAll My Immortal ChildrenandThe Bold and Beautifully Divinewere steamy and cringey and broke all my rules for love. But admittedly, they were a guilty pleasure. Not that I would confess that out loud.
Besides, I mostly watchedPantheon Confidential. It was a true-crime documentary. Unmasking the seedy deeds committed by gods and goddesses. Jonas Foster hosted it. He was a classmate of mine at Olympus University.
It wasn’t often that a Roman attended the Greek god university. But I was glad he had. He was the only person I really connected with while there. While most of our classmates’ hobbies were looking in the mirror and partying with the locals in Thessaloníki, Jonas and I preferred watching old movies and playing board games. Anything to remind us of our mortal sides. We both had a thing for black and similar tragic backstories. Except his father was a mortal and his mother was Discordia, the Roman goddess of discord and strife.
As you might have guessed, she wasn’t exactly the maternal sort. Jonas had even featured her on his show, basically implying she’d sent his father off to Afghanistan while he was serving in the British Armed Forces and made sure he died. And I thought I had parental issues. Needless to say, we both hated being demigods, and Jonas and his mother weren’t on speaking terms.
Unfortunately, Jonas fell in love with me. And I, stupidly, tried to fall in love with him even though I knew how unlikely it was. I’d done things—drastic things—to protect my heart. Because of that, I ended up hurting him. I’d never forgiven myself for it. I should have told him the truth, but I was embarrassed by what I had done to protect myself. And I’d honestly thought maybe Jonas could undo it. Even though the goddess in me had said otherwise. But she’d lied before.
After hurting him, I only retreated further into myself. That’s when I went from just baggy black clothing to black muumuus. And when I decided love needed a guidebook.
Oddly, Jonas still checked in on me once in a while. The occasional text, an Oracle chat here and there. He really was a great guy. And my only connection to the outside world. Unlike me, he still felt comfortable navigating the mortal realm. But he had never been subject to the same media scrutiny I had. I knew enough to know that if I ever emerged, the spotlight would glare on me like a magnifying glass in the sun.
Occasionally, I would see things online. Headlines like, “Where Did Demi Blake Disappear To?”There was even aDatelineepisode dedicated to my meteoric rise in the gymnastics world and the tragedy that befell me. They interviewed old coaches and teammates. It crushed me to hear people say that I used to light up a room, even though it sounded so cliché. Now I was like dark matter.
My father shifted beside me, his hand still holding mine. “I should do that more,” he admitted. “But I fear sometimes you would rather I didn’t.”
I squirmed in my seat. The guilt gnawed at me. So muchso that I squeezed his hand.
He gripped harder, taking advantage of my rare show of affection.
“You’re always welcome,” I said, though it came out stilted.
The olive branches in the corner lit up, telling Hestia I spoke the truth. Her office was like one big lie detector.
“This is wonderful.” Hestia lowered herself onto her beanbag and crossed her legs like she was about to start doing yoga.
“Is that it?”Please let that be it.
A look passed between my father and Hestia that didn’t exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy. It was a look that said,Should you detonate her world, or do you want me to?
I pulled away from Father, but he refused to let go. “Demi,” he whispered. “We need to talk about your job.”
“Is this about my meeting with Roman? I know he talked to you.” I’d had several employees rush in to tell me. “And in my defense, I had my people send him a warning, so he wasn’t blindsided. It’s not my fault he chose to ignore it.”
“He is not the only one who ignored the truth,” Father said firmly, but kindly.
I looked up at the ceiling blooming in pink, white, and red dianthus flowers, knowing what he was referring to. “I made a judgment call.”
“Not the right one.”
I whipped toward him. “You don’t know that.”
