“No. Make the fucking time, Arte. The rest of us do. And don’t tell me you’re too enlightened for therapy.” He grunts. “You’re the most fucked up of all of us.”
I almost recoil at his words, because my siblings are pretty fucked up.
“None of us are chasing the absolute annihilation of our father because he hurt our mother. Do I want him to step on Lego? Yes. Do I want him destitute and on the streets? No. He’s an asshole, but I don’t want to destroy him.”
The furnace of fury in my chest flares like he’s thrown a gallon of accelerant on it. Ares covers my clenched fist with a warm palm. “Easy, Hermano.” He pats my hand, but my fists remain tight, my nails digging into my hand.
“If you won’t talk to us, you need to talk to someone.” His voice is low and quiet, soothing almost. He’s right, I just… there aren’t enough hours in the day, and yet, if it was one of my siblings…
“If it was one of us, you’d sit on top of us until we went to see someone. Or worse, you’d bring a therapist to our homes. In fact, you did that for Hen after her attack, remember?”
The painfully infected splinter under my skin from my sister’s rape throbs, reminding me of its presence. Despite the fact none of us were there that night, we all shoulder responsibility for her being attacked. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, rapists rape, but we all feel like we could have done more, like weshouldhave done more.
None of us walked away from that night whole, least of all me.
Ares squeezes my hand. “Nope. You’re not sliding back to that time in your brain.” He pinches the back of my hand. “But you do need to talk to someone. You’re fucking this thing up with Xavi on an epic scale.” He eats a potsticker, washing it down with a slug of beer, and looks as though he’s very proud of himself.
He should be, it’s not often my siblings get one up on me. The fact he was able to get in under the radar and has stayed in—largely because of the food offering he brought to keep me occupied—is pretty unprecedented.
“Fucking what up? The merger is going ahead as planned—granted there have been a few hiccups, teething problems really, but it’s on track. I’m passing all my classes. I’ve got the C on the ice.”
My brother’s hand slaps across my mouth. “Yes, yes, you’re a very dull and responsible grownup, Arte.” He doesn’t let go of my face but taps my chest with his free hand. “What about this?” He stares into my eyes; concern etched into his features. “What about fun?”
Fun? Who has time for fun?
“What about love? Or sharing everything… sharingyouwith someone you enjoy spending time with? Like. Xavi.”
I roll my eyes, but he pushes harder.
“I won’t stand by and watch you fuck this up, Artemis. Fucking him and fleeing? That’s cold, even for you.”
My brows shoot up.
“Yeah.” He nods. “I know exactly what you did.” He points the neck of his bottle at me.
My pulse spikes like I’ve been caught with blood on my hands. Did Xavier tattle to my brother?
“No. Martinez didn’t tell me anything. But I still know.”
I almost snap that it didn’t mean anything—but the lie catches in my throat like broken glass.
Get the fuck out of my head, Ares. That sentiment must show on my face because he smirks, shaking his head. “No, I won’t get out of your head either.” He squeezes his hand still cupping my mouth, making my cheeks squish. “You always wanted us to be close; you don’t get to grouse when I can read your mind. I know I’m not Apollo, but I know you well enough.”
Neither of us speak for a long moment.
“It’s taking all my strength to not shake sense into you right now. Xavier’s a good guy, Artemis. And he’s interested in you. You’re worthy, loveable, and by all accounts a catch—not as good a catch as me. Obviously.” He pretends to flick his non-existent long hair over his shoulder.
“You’re clearly compatible.” He waggles his brows at me. “I don’t remember the last person outside our fam you’d drive across state lines to see. But you’re fucking it up because you’re afraid. Or feeling unworthy. Or you’re too busy—which is bullshit by the way. You’re beingtooresponsible, and it’s going to destroy you.”
The tone of his voice is simmering with concern, and something close to disappointment. That strikes deeper than any disappointment our father figure could show in me. To let down my siblings? Oof. The wind is firmly sucked from my lungs like a vacuum.
The worst part is, deep down I know he’s right about everything. I just don’t know how to stop.
“There’s still time.” He boops me on the nose as he finally retracts his hand, then turns back to the table and snags another potsticker and pizza puff and shoves them both—at the same time—into his mouth like a fucking animal. “He’s still interested. And from the look on your face, in your eyes… you are too. Don’t let it get away from you because you’re focused on revenge and proving our father wrong.”
His words strike like arrows in my chest, slicing through my defenses and hitting me where it hurts. Somewhere along the line, I traded softness for survival, and vengeance for purpose, and now I can’t remember who I was before I sharpened myself into a weapon.
“Don’t turn into someone you’re not because of him, Artemis.”
