“Alysander, I’m your mother. Please don’t speak to me like I’m a child,” she says, her tone clipped. “I know this is hard to hear. But you’re half Titan—born of a god—whether you believe it or not. My only regret is not telling you sooner. Keeping it in has been eating me alive.”
“Then why did you?”
“You wouldn’t remember, but when you were little, you told me you were going to find your father and bring him home. You were five or six, but you were so sure. I panicked. I told you just enough to calm you down.” Her jaw tightens, the movement sharp. “But the next day, you told your teacher, and the principal called me in. Asked if I was using drugs. I thought they’d take you away.” She sniffles once, quick and fierce. “After that, I kept it all to myself.”
I grab a tissue from my nightstand and hand it to her.
“Thanks, honey,” she murmurs, dabbing at her eyes. “It’s not easy being a single mom, being cut off by my own parents. No safety net. No support. No money for lawyers if anything went wrong. Keeping the truth buried felt like the safest option. I had to protect you and your sister. No matter what.”
“Oh, Mom,” I whisper, my throat tightening. “I’m so sorry.”
I wrap my arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. She’s been through so much. Whatever the truth is—whatever she’s created to fill in the gaps—I don’t doubt her love for me or Amber. Not for a second. Every overprotective impulse, every strange warning or superstition, it all comes from a place of fierce devotion.
As much as her misplaced belief in some crazy mythical delusion worries me, part of me understands why she clings to it. It’s far less painful to believe my father left to protect our family than to admit the truth—he just didn’t want to stay.
“I love you so much, baby,” she murmurs. “I wish he could see the woman you’ve become. He’d be so proud.”
“Uh huh… sure,” I say, patting her hand noncommittally. The sentiment is sweet, but I’m not about to validate her fantasy. “Maybe we don’t tell Amber about this just yet? Can it stay between us for now?”
Telling Amber would be like tossing a match into a powder keg. She’d lose her goddamnmind. Between college and everything else going on, I can only handle one unhinged family member at a time.
“Of course, honey.” She nods, brushing away the last of her tears, then perks up with fragile optimism. “On the bright side, since you’re half Titan, you can go to the Underworld someday.”
I force a smile.
“Great, Mom. That sounds… really lovely.”
But she’s already gone, lost to a hope that sparks wildly in her eyes.
“Maybe enough time has passed. Maybe it’s safe now for him to come home.” She leans in, her voice trembling with fierce conviction. “And you’re the one, Alysander. I just know it. You can bring him back to us. Just like you always said you would.”
By the time my mother finally leaves my room, it’s already after 9 p.m. I’m more unsettled than ever and completely drained. All I want to do is crawl under the covers and pretend our crazy conversation never happened, but she insists I return Argyros to Hayes. Tonight. Which would be a whole lot easier if I knew where Hayes was.
Unfortunately, he isn’t answering his phone.
I grab my car keys and head out, deciding to check his parents’ place first. Worst case, Dimitra will be there and can keep an eye on Argyros until Hayes turns up.
On the drive over, I call him again. Still straight to voicemail, which is beyond weird. Unlike my mom with her electromagnetic interference paranoia, Hayes never turns off his phone. The guy practically has a panic attack if his battery dips below fifty percent.
So where the hell is he?
When I pull up to his parents’ house, his sleek black Mercedes SUV is in the driveway, but no one answers the doorbell. I grab the heavy antique brass knocker that probably weighs more than I do and pound it against the door over and over.
Still nothing.
I’m just about to go through the garage using the code when the front door finally creaks open.
Hayes stands there in black sweats, eyes bloodshotlike he hasn’t slept since I last saw him. His hair’s a rumpled mess—unheard of, considering Hayes’s hair is never anything but picture-perfect. The guy has more hair products than Target.
“Hey. Thanks for bringing him back,” Hayes mumbles as Argyros noses past him into the foyer. He lifts a hand in a half-hearted wave and starts to close the door. “See you in French.”
“Didn’t you see my calls and texts?” I ask, body-checking him and pushing inside.
Argyros pads along after me, tail wagging happily as I head straight for the kitchen. I toss my bomber jacket onto the island and grab a handful of chocolate-covered almonds from the oversized candy bowl, popping a few into my mouth.
“Sorry, no,” Hayes says, following me in. “I was busy.”
“Doing what? Alphabetizing your cologne collection?”
