"But where?"ten-year-old Jake asks."Your apartment is tiny."
Out of the mouths of babes.Jake's right.My place couldn't fit three people comfortably, let alone six.And Ethan's penthouse...The thought of trying to raise five children in his sterile, white-on-white showplace makes me want to laugh.Or cry.
Maybe both.
The front door opens, and my heart does something stupid and painful when Hades walks in.He's changed out of his bloodstained clothes from yesterday and showered, but there are dark circles under his eyes that tell me he slept about as much as I did.
Which is to say, not at all.
"How are we doing today?"he asks, his voice gentler than I've ever heard it.He drops to his knees beside us, and suddenly the room feels smaller.Warmer.
"Uncle Hades!"Four-year-old Lily launches herself at him, and he catches her easily, lifting her up into those strong arms.
My breath catches in my throat.There's something about seeing him with the children that does things to me I shouldn't be feeling.Not now.Not when we're planning my brother's funeral and trying to figure out how to put these kids' lives back together.
I shuffle backward, instinctively creating distance.It’s too much.He’s too much.
This isn’t the time.I’m grieving.I’m confused.I’m still engaged, for God’s sake.
But when he glances over and meets my eyes, something tightens low in my stomach, and all the distance in the world doesn’t help.
Heat pools low in my belly, inappropriate and unwelcome.My pulse quickens, and I have to focus on breathing normally.This is grief, I tell myself; trauma making me cling to anything that feels safe and solid.
But I know that's a lie.This pull between us has been there for years, simmering beneath every family gathering, every polite conversation, every careful distance we've maintained.
Calla used to tell me stories about their childhood, about how Hades protected her from their father's rages even when he was just a kid himself.How he'd take beatings meant for her and never complain.How he put himself through hell to make sure she had a chance at something better.
"Any word from the detective?"I ask, trying to focus on practical matters instead of the way his presence makes the chaos in my head quiet down.
"They're releasing the scene tomorrow.We can start planning the service."His dark eyes meet mine, and for a moment I feel like he can see straight through me; see the guilt and the fear—and the inappropriate heat that curls through my body every time he's near.
"I've been looking at funeral homes," I say, gesturing to the brochures scattered around us.
Hades glances at them, then at Mason."What do you think, man?You knew your parents better than anyone."
Mason's shoulders straighten a little at being consulted like an adult."Mom always said she wanted to be cremated.She said it was a waste of money to put a fancy box in the ground when that money could go to us kids instead."
"Smart woman," Hades says."We'll do exactly what she wanted."
The simple way he says it, like there's no question that we'll honor Calla's wishes, makes something tight in my chest loosen.With Ethan, everything is a negotiation, a cost-benefit analysis.With Hades, it's just...right.
"Uncle Hades," Lily says from her perch in his arms."Are you going to live with us now?"
The question hangs in the air, heavy with implications.I should say something.I should explain that nothing's been decided yet, that it's complicated.
Instead, I find myself holding my breath, waiting for his answer.My skin feels too tight, hyperaware of every shift in his posture, every flicker of expression across his face.
"We're still figuring that out, sweetheart," he says carefully, his eyes finding mine again."But no matter what, you're not going to be alone.You've got me and Aunt Evie, and we're going to make sure you're taken care of."
"Together?"Lily asks, the word carrying so much weight.
"Together," he confirms, and something warm and dangerous unfurls in my chest.
The intensity of his gaze makes my pulse skip.For just a moment, I let myself imagine what that might look like; Hades and me raising these children together, sharing morning coffee and bedtime stories, as well as all the small intimacies that come with building a life together.
The fantasy is so vivid, so appealing, that it scares me.
"Aunt Evie's getting married," Emma says suddenly, her voice matter-of-fact."To the mean man."
