Page 111 of Hades

A simple answer. But I heard what lived beneath it. Busy meant useful. Busy meant needed. Busy meant no one had time to notice the loneliness.

That was something I understood.

Cerberus moved ahead of us, patrolling the edge of the path before returning to Lettie’s side. I watched the way he tracked every sound. Every bird. Every shift of shadow. He reminded me of Brock in that way. Silent, intense, and completely devoted to guarding what he’d chosen.

“Does he ever let anyone close to you?” I asked.

Lettie looked down at him with a smile. “He likes Brock.”

“I noticed.”

“He likes you too.”

I glanced at the enormous black dog currently watching me like he was tallying my sins. “Does he?”

“He hasn’t tried to stand between us.”

“That’s the standard?”

“With Cerberus? Yes.”

Despite myself, I laughed. It felt rusty. Strange. Like I was using a muscle that had gone stiff from disuse.

Lettie glanced over. For a moment, I caught something in her expression that made me ache. It wasn’t pity. I would have hated pity. It was hunger. Not for food or attention, but for connection. For something maternal, maybe. Something gentle and steady and freely given.

I knew that look.

Diana had worn it when she came home.

Aspen had worn it before she left.

Hell, maybe I’d worn it my whole marriage without ever realizing.

We ate on the back porch at a small table shaded by climbing vines. Lettie served soup, fresh bread, and a salad filled with vegetables that still tasted like sunlight. She moved around the porch with quiet competence, setting things down before I asked, refilling water, checking that I had enough without fussing. It was care without performance.

That made it harder to breathe.

Lucas had loved performance.

He knew how to make people believe what he wanted them to believe. He’d made me believe I was cherished. Protected. Chosen.

But if what Diana said was true, I had been chosen.

That was the problem.

I no longer knew what the word meant when it came from him.

“Rhea?”

I blinked and realized Lettie was watching me. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I keep doing that.”

“Going somewhere else?”

I looked down at my bowl. “Yes.”