Page 151 of Hades

He nodded before leaning down and kissing my forehead. “Then I’ll be there.”

The sound of a door opening made us both turn.

My mother stood in the hallway entrance. Dressed. Hair brushed. Makeup applied. She looked more put together than she had in months.

And she was staring at us.

Not at me.

At us.

At the way Brock’s hand rested on my back. At the way I leaned into him. At the closeness between us that she couldn’t control or manipulate or use against me.

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“Oh, Violet. I didn’t realize you had company.”

Brock’s hand stayed exactly where it was. Possessive. Steady.

“Brock’s helping me pack,” I said.

My mother’s gaze moved between us slowly. Deliberately. Taking inventory of the distance between our bodies, or rather, the lack of it. She noticed the way he stood close. The way I didn’t pull away.

“How industrious of him.” She moved into the kitchen, her movements careful and measured. Like she was calculating something. “You’ve been spending quite a bit of time together.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“That’s nice.” She smiled. That same wrong smile. The one that had been building all week. “It’s good that you have someone.”

Something in her tone made my skin crawl. Not the words themselves but the implication beneath them. Like she was watching a game play out and waiting for the final move.

Brock’s hand pressed harder against my back. A silent message: I’ve got you.

My mother’s eyes flicked to where his hand rested. To the possession in the gesture. To the fact that I accepted it. That I leaned into it.

Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

“Is there something you need, Mother?” I asked.

“Oh, no. I was just checking on your progress.” She gestured to the table. “You’ve made so many lovely things this year. I’m sure they’ll sell wonderfully.”

“Thank you.”

“And tomorrow we’ll set up early? Before the crowds arrive?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Perfect.” She clasped her hands together. “I’m so looking forward to it. Harvest Week is always my favorite.”

She turned and walked back down the hallway. Her door closed with a soft click.

I exhaled slowly. Hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath.

Brock’s arm came around my waist, pulling me back against his chest. His chin rested on top of my head.

“She doesn’t like me,” he said quietly.