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“I won’t.”
“It’s not like I want to die.”
“I know that.”
“Idon’t. No matter what I said when I was—Idon’t.That’s not what this is about, so don’t make it about that.”
If he does, I’ll…well, I’ll probably pass out, and at least that would be the end of the discussion. But if Idon’tpass out, I’ll have to sit here with this horrible crush in my chest and tears stinging my eyes and a giant hollow pit filled with desperation.
It’s not great.
“I wouldn’t.” Zeus doesn’t move his hand. He lets it rest on my cheek. “I get it.”
“Do you?”
“Not all pain is physical.”
My dad’s chest hitches, one time, and then he breathes like nothing happened. A rock-steady rhythm. I pretend not to notice Zeus patting his knee, or the undercurrent of an earthquake low in air. I’m almost certain that Zeus is covering it like a breeze, trying to counterbalance it with…not joy, really, more like…
More like peace.
But it’s hard. It has to be hard, with the tug of the nightmare still crouched in the corner of my mind.
Maybe it won’t be so difficult if I stop fighting it. Breathing it out feels like it’ll never be enough, but it’s all I have.
“I know you’re worried about him.” That’s not…what I expected Zeus to say. I thought he might say that I didn’tneedto worry about Hercules, or reassure me about how he can survive whatever life throws at him. It’s a massive relief when he doesn’t. “I also know that you won’t stop worrying about him, and I wouldn’t ask you to. I want you to know that if anything happens to you, he won’t be alone.”
Jesus. How does hedothat? He’s not promising that Hercules will be okay, because we all know he wouldn’t be. He’s not even promising that he, or anyone else, will have what Hercules needs in the event of my brain-betrayal demise. He’s giving me a promise he can keep.
“Okay.” I let my next breath out as slow as I can. “I’m not planning on dying, though. I don’t want that.”
“I know,” Zeus answers.
“Daddy,” I say.
“I know. Of course I know.” I’m not at all surprised that my dad’s stress doesn’t show in his voice. “I’m not holding it against you, Daisy. That would be hypocritical.”
That’s enough to interrupt the emotional rockslide in my tired mind. I lean harder into his shoulder, but not because I want to, necessarily—my entire body feels heavier and less manageable. Or my mind is less able to manage it. I’d be terrified of that if it hadn’t gone on so long already.
“What do you mean?”
Him saying he’s a hypocrite could only mean one thing, and it doesn’t fit. My dad is the strongest man I’ve ever known. He’d never ask for anything like I asked for, no matter how out of it he was.
“I mean that Zeus doesn’t hold it against me, so I’d be a hypocrite to hold it against you.”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t actually want company when it comes to this thing I’ve done, this thing I’ve asked for, this thing that’sstillmaking everyone’s life harder.
It’s nice not to be the only one.
There’s not much use in wishing I was, though.
“If it helps.” Zeus runs his thumb over my cheekbone, and the strangest memory surfaces of being very, very young and waking up in Zeus’s arms instead of my dad’s. I couldn’t begin to say what my parents were doing, or if I’m making it up, but I remember it so clearly. “You remembered your manners when you asked. And you didn’t call your father a motherfucker and tell him you hated him in the same breath.”
“Wow, Dad.”
My dad snorts. “I can’t be blamed.”
“We would never blame you.” Zeus’s voice is so easy. I could almost believe it didn’t hurt him at all. “You’re a sweetheart.”
