All that’s left is the echo of my father’s footsteps fading down the hall and a hollow in my chest that no amount of victory seems capable of filling.
Damn.
CHAPTER 51
Xavier
No amount of staring at the book in my hand is making it any easier to read. Anxiety is coiled in my gut. The de la Peña crew had their meeting this morning, and other than Ares’s thumbs up emoji, I haven’t heard a fucking thing.
It’s been hours.Hours. I was supposed to leave Iowa over a week ago, but I couldn’t do it. The idea of leaving Artemis to face this battle by himself left me feeling like I was abandoning him,us.
With me out of action on the ice for a few weeks, I requested permission to take the next few weeks remotely. The dean said yes, and somehow all of my professors said yes as well. Probablymostsurprisingly, Artemis said yes as well.
For a hot minute I thought our exchange of ‘I love you’s was down to trauma bonding after my accident, and that once things settled down, the haze of our emotion would as well.
It’s been a week, and I can’t lie, the domesticity we’ve settled into, even with today’s looming meeting? It’s been so nice, and it’s going to kill me to leave when the time comes.
Stretched out on Artemis’s couch, withBacon—the Raccoons team mascot, a mini potbellied pig—a murder mystery novel in my lap, and a fancy coffee from Artemis’s almost-too-complicated-to-use coffee machine, a nervous energy has possessed my body.
I don’t have time to nurse my injury, or my identity crisis because I’m so distracted by the de la Peñas. When they left this morning, they looked like the best dressed group of badasses I’ve ever seen—like Ninja Turtles in fucking suits.
Did everything go okay with their father? Did he sign the documentation Artemis needed him to sign? Can my boyfriendfinallytake a full breath and let his shoulders come down away from his ears?
An exterior door slams shut, sounds like Apollo is home. Hopefully, that means Artemis isn’t too far behind. I’m so tempted to get up and go looking, but I channel patience from somewhere deep inside. Plus, I’m still kind of sore and not sleeping well with this stupid, fucking injury.
The front door opens, and I freeze, sucking in a breath and holding it. If he slams the door, it’s bad news, but other than that, I can’t tell what the hell happened, and I don’t want to crowd him, or rush him. He’ll tell me in his own time.
His briefcase hits the floor, there’s a swoosh of fabric—guessing it’s his suit jacket, and a pause, he’s probably toeing off his shoes.
“Honey, I’m home.” His gruff voice meets my ears, making me jump. He’s closer than I expected. He’s standing next to me in his undershirt, boxers, and socks like Tom Cruise in Risky Business, gesturing at me to pull the blanket back.
I usher the now disgruntled pig onto the floor, hold theblanket up, and let Artemis crawl under it. He slots himself against my side like it’s muscle memory, long and solid and painfully careful with my arm.
His skin is cool from the air outside, his presence hot and reassuring. He exhales once, so deep it’s like he’s been holding his breath since he woke up this morning and only just remembered how to let it go. He snuggles against my body. My firm and strong warrior needing a little comfort. I wait.
“It’s done,” he says eventually. Just that. There’s no triumph, no edge, no smile against my chest. His voice is flat, and he holds me just a little tighter.
He should look lighter,soundlighter, victorious… gleeful even—Okay, Artemis doesn’t do gleeful, but he should at least look like the man who just reclaimed his life. Instead, he looks deflated, like someone who tried to cross a finish line of a marathon and realized he had another twelve miles to go.
I’m not quite sure whether we should be breaking out the champagne or the tequila. “You okay?”
He huffs a quiet laugh into my shoulder. “That’s not the right question.”
I adjust, wince a little, then settle again. Bacon snorts indignantly on the floor and wanders off, betrayed by my boyfriend stealing his spot. Sorry, piggy, but he needs me more than you right now. I run my thumb in slow circles against Artemis’s ribs, a silent invitation to open up to me rather than a demand for him to speak.
“What’s the right question? Did he fight you?”
“He tried.”
That makes me frown. I tilt my head and look at him properly. His eyes aren’t sharp or lit up the way they should be after a win. They’re dull. Thoughtful. Almost… hollow.
“He folded.” Artemis speaks so quietly, I have to pay attention to listening. “He signed everything. Is taking medical leave, gave up his voting rights. He’s gone.”
“That’s…” I search his face. “That’s good, right?”
He closes his eyes. Presses his forehead into my body. “It’s fine.” Fine is not good. Fine is never good.
“I thought it would feel better.” The words come outrough, scraped raw. “I thought I’d feel… taller. Better. Quieter. Like something would finally stop hurting.”
