And if so, how long until something—or someone—pulls the trigger?
I clutch the armrests, willing the spiral in my head to stop.
Where the hell is Hayes?
On-screen, a pretty blonde girl shrieks as Freddy tears her apart with his knife-tipped fingers. My stomach grumbles, hungry as blood splatters across the walls in pulsing bursts. I should probably be disturbed by all the death and gore, but I’m starving.
I pause the movie and head upstairs to raid the Vassilios’ freezer, pushing aside endless stacks of frozen orzo and spanakopita Kora has Dimitra stock in bulk. I make a face when I spot a big container of Greek pagoto kaimaki.
Hard pass.
I’ve never gotten used to the piney flavor. Hayes loves pagoto, but to me it’s too chewy, like eating a pine tree wrapped in rubber bands.
Reaching deeper, I finally find my old, reliable friend: Double Fudge Brownie ice cream.
Jackpot!
Spoon in hand and bowl loaded up, I march back toward the theater. As I pass the family gallery wall, my gaze snags on the familiar photographs lining the hallway. I’ve walked past these portraits thousands of times, but they still make me smile.
There’s Hayes’s father, grinning beside one of his treasured horses, the big dapple-gray, Phaethon.
A pang tightens in my chest.
God, I miss Phaethon. And the other horses, too. I wonder if I’ll ever see them again.
Farther down the wall is what I like to call the Shrine of Hayes: toddler Hayes, wild dark curls and baby teeth. Little kid Hayes, grinning with a missing front tooth. Preteen Hayes, all long limbs and awkward angles in too-big jeans. And, of course, high school Hayes—breathtakingly, impossibly handsome.
Then come the family photos: Hayes and his parents. Always polished, always gorgeous and glowing. His parents look eerily the same in every shot, no matter the year. It’s as if they don’t age. Like vampires. It’s a little unsettling when you really think about it, but there’s no denying Hayes won the genetic lottery—either that or his parents have excellent plastic surgeons.
I even make a few appearances on the wall. Candid, goofy photos from birthday parties and school dances Hayes dragged me to. Senior prom. High school graduation. I grin when I spot myfavorite: the picture of us at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, waving the overpriced magic wands Kora bought for us.
But tonight, something bizarre tugs at me as I study the wall, something I’ve never noticed before. There are no photos of Hayes’s parents before he was born.
No wedding pictures. No engagement shots. No childhood photos. No extended family. Not even a glimpse of their own parents.
Nothing.
It’s as if they didn’t exist until Hayes did. Like they just… materialized from somewhere else, fully formed, the day he was born.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, snapping me out of my thoughts. My heart leaps as I check the screen, certain it’s finally Hayes texting me back. But it’s just Amber sending a GIF of a cat blowing out birthday candles and asking when I’ll be home to open presents.
Apparently, my sister actually got me a birthday gift.
I’m weirdly touched.
Of course, I’m still annoyed with her for the way she acted at the Heaven & Hell party, and for constantly hovering around Hayes, always trying to pull him away. And then there’s the wholeHerculesplay thing. I should probably be over that by now, but I’m not.
Still, her text chips away at my irritation just a little. It makes me feel kind of guilty, too, because Ididn’t get her anything for her birthday. She turned seventeen just forty-eight hours before me.
It’s always been strange, how close in age we are. Barely a year apart. Technically possible, but still… weird.
Thankfully, the joint birthday parties Mom used to force on us stopped once Amber hit high school and decided I was suddenly beneath her.
Now we do our own thing.
She’s got big plans this weekend, going out with her friends, ordering sushi and sake bombs with their fake IDs. Unlike my sister, I don’t have a group of girlfriends to party with, but that’s okay. I’d rather spend my birthday with Hayes and Argy anyway. Just the three of us and our movie marathon.
I’m not always a completely horrible older sister, though. I usually do get Amber a present for her birthday. I even thought about picking up something pink or sparkly—her two favorite things—but after everything that’s happened lately, I didn’t think she deserved it.
