Page 140 of Hades

He found me instead.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey.”

He crossed to me in three long strides and pulled me against him. His hand settled at my waist. Warm. Solid. Real.

I pressed my face into his chest and breathed him in. Leather and motor oil and something darker underneath.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Liar.”

I pulled back enough to look at him. “My mother’s doing it again.”

His expression didn’t change, but I felt the shift in his body. The way he went still. Alert.

“Doing what?”

“The Harvest Week thing.” I shook my head. “She gets like this every year. Dresses up. Asks about the festival. Acts like she actually gives a shit about my life.”

“And the rest of the year?”

“She doesn’t.”

He cupped my face, tilting my head up so I had to meet his eyes. “How long has this been happening?”

“Since we moved here. She helped me with the Harvest Festival a few weeks after we arrived, but after that...” I swallowed hard. “I don’t know what it means. I don’t know why only this week matters to her.”

“What does she ask about?”

“Who’s going to be there. What I’m selling. If there’s anyone new in town.” I paused. “This year she asked about you.”

His jaw tightened. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing. I don’t know what to tell her because I don’t know what she wants.”

“Then we wait.” He kissed my forehead. My temple. “And we watch her.”

“I’ve been watching her for years, Brock. I still don’t have answers.”

“Maybe this year you will.”

I wanted to believe that. But years of the same pattern had taught me not to hope for explanations.

“Come inside,” I said. “I need to check on her.”

He followed me into the house, his presence a solid weight at my back. Cerberus trotted ahead, leading us to the den where my mother usually spent her days.

She wasn’t in her recliner.

She was standing at the window, staring out at the driveway. The same place she stood every year during this week.

“Mother?”

She turned, smiling when she saw Brock. “Oh. You brought your friend.”