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“That was most of it.”
The silence gets heavy, and regret crowds into my chest. I don’thaveto be like this. I have my guard up because we never once got along. If he’s going to be professional about this situation, then I should at least be…
I should at least be cordial.
“Sorry you had to leave the Army.”
“The Special Forces will do fine without me.”
“Is that true? I thought you got a lot of awards for bravery. Saving lives. That sort of thing.”
Hercules doesn’t answer for so long that I glance over my shoulder. He’s staring down at the tablet, his face blank. He rolls his right shoulder and stretches out his arm.
“Does it bother you?”
His eyes snap to mine. “Does what bother me?”
“Your shoulder. Isn’t that—that’s what got hurt, isn’t it?”
Hercules cracks a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yes. Permanent damage, as far as the doctors can tell.”
“Is there anything—” Jesus, what am I doing? What am I saying? Can’t I just cook eggs in silence? “Is there anything I could do to help? Like a massage, or a foam roller?”
He lets out a shortha. “Don’t worry about it, Daisy. We have more important things to talk about.”
Oh, God. He read my mind. He read my mind, and he knows the dark sexual thoughts I’ve had about him, and he’s—
“I need to work with your team to find out who was behind the shooting at the gallery.” His tablet lights up behind me, throwing my blurred shadow against the wall. “Can you think of anyone you’ve had a personal problem with in the past?”
“Yes.” I can’t stop myself. I have zero control. “You.”
He blows out a breath. I know he means to keep it quiet, but I hear it anyway.
“We don’t have a personal problem now.” A brief pause. “Do we?”
“No.” My voice goes high and strange, and I stick a fork into the bowl of eggs and stir too hard. “No. Why would we?”
“Because you hated when I lived next door?”
“I didnot.” Some of the egg flies out of the bowl, and I grab for a paper towel and clean it up. “I’m the one who had to convinceyouto leave jail, remember?”
“You weren’t happy to see me at Zeus’s house.”
My face is hot. My chest aches. Mythroataches. I don’t know why a simple discussion about things that happened years ago would have any effect.
I’m tired. That’s the only explanation I’ll accept.
“When?”
“What?” Hercules asks.
“When wasn’t I happy to see you at Zeus’s?”
“The first day I got there. You and your parents came over for dinner, and you were pissed.”
I laugh out loud and dump the eggs into the frying pan. “What was the weather like that day?”
“Sunny.”
