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Leo’s expression went from teasing and happy to stone-cold in the span of an instant. Moments like this were stark reminders that he absolutely was Seth’s son. His father was a pro at those volatile mood shifts too.
“It’s different.” He pulled his legs off my bed, sitting up straighter in his chair. “You go your whole life knowing the only person you can count on is yourself, and that if you want something in the world you’re going to have to fight and claw for it, right?”
I nodded, somewhat familiar with that sensation, no matter how much the temple spoiled me.
“And now, suddenly, I’m rich. My father is a god. I can have whatever I want just by asking for it.”
“That’s good though, isn’t it?”
He leveled me with a humorless stare and snorted. “Put it this way. My mom knew he was a god. She knew what I would be. She didn’t ask him for help.”
I shook my head, not understanding that logic at all. “The temple would have looked after you.”
“The temple would have ruined me. I’ve been there eight weeks and I already know I would have been a selfish monster if I’d been raised as Seth’s son. And now that I know who I am, people expect me to jump for joy and be so grateful. Honestly, though, I wish I could forget it all and go back to squatting in empty apartments and stealing watches from tourists.” He sighed and looked away from me when my gaze stayed on his a little too long.
“I don’t get that,” I admitted.
“When you opened that link to my father in the car, he knew I was with you, I could tell.”
“And?” I doubted I was going to like the answer, but I asked all the same.
“I could feel his attachment to me. I knew exactly what he felt when he realized I was there. Nothing. It was like I was a pair of shoes he owned but never wore.”
I couldn’t say anything. I wanted to pick up his hand and squeeze, but I didn’t think he was looking for my comfort.
Instead I gave him a weak smile and said, “Welcome to the club.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Did anyone ever tell you that watching you eat is equal parts terrifying and impressive?” Leo stared at me with an expression that was, indeed, both awe and repulsion.
“No,” I said around a mouthful of pizza.
“You just turned an extra-large meat lover’s pizza into a personal-sized serving.” He nodded at the almost empty serving tray.
“Any pizza is personal-sized if you believe in yourself, Leo.” I sipped some Coke through a straw and smiled at him.
We had the little Lovelock pizzeria to ourselves. Whether it was because most of the residents still hadn’t returned or because no one was in the mood for carbs, I couldn’t have said, but I was grateful for the privacy.
And the garlic bread.
And the baked penne.
Leo took a bite of his own pizza slice and shook his head at me. “You’re a weird lady, Tallulah Corentine.”
“You would be too if you were me.”
I’d managed to get several uninterrupted hours of sleep after my shower, during which time Leo had become best friends with Yvonne. She had apparently washed and dried my soaking clothes, leaving me with a freshly laundered pile when I
awoke that afternoon. I only had two pairs of pants with me, so being able to wear my favorite jeans again was the best reward I could have asked for.
The people of Lovelock, however, seemed Hades-bent on making their gratitude known to Leo and me. The owner of the pizzeria, like Yvonne, kept insisting, “On the house, on the house.”
To which I naturally replied, “You don’t know what you’re promising.”
He didn’t seem to care. But he would be getting a pretty magnificent tip hidden on the table when he wasn’t looking.
Normally I didn’t like people knowing I was doing things for them, but perhaps I ought to take some credit from time to time. Sure, skipping out on the blame when things went wrong was a huge part of why I like anonymity. But I also really liked free pizza.
