by Staci Hart
“We stopped early. You need real sleep, Jo.”
She sat up, huffing, and waved him off. “I’m fine.”
His brows dropped with his tone. “No, you’re not. Don’t argue with me, all right? Just this once?”
She looked back at Jon, weary and beaten. “All right. I won’t fight you.”
“It’s a miracle. Stay here, and I’ll get us a room.”
He exited the car and made his way into the small office to find a skinny kid behind the counter in a T-shirt that said, I only sleep with the best, with the name of the hotel underneath it. He smiled a toothy grin, and as Jon approached, he thought it was strange that the entire lobby smelled like roses when there wasn’t a single flower in sight.
“Hello, sir. How are you today?”
“Tired.” Jon leaned on the counter and pulled out his wallet. “I need a room with two double or queen beds.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry, but there’s a family reunion in town this week, and the rooms we have left only have a king and a couch.”
Jon ran a hand over his mouth. Josie wouldn’t be happy about there being only one bed and would probably assume he did it on purpose, but they didn’t have a choice. He’d give her the bed, and he would take the couch.
Anything beat a bucket seat in his Jeep.
“I’ll take it.” He handed over his card.
“Sounds good.”
The kid ran his card and checked him in before giving him the keys, pointing him in the general direction of their room. Jon thanked him and walked back to the car, eyeing Josie, who was leaning against the window with heavy lids.
“Bad news,” he said as he climbed in and started the Jeep. “There’s only one bed.”
“Fuck, are you kidding me?” She groaned and gave him a look.
“No, there’s some family reunion going on.” He pulled around to park near the stairs where their room was.
“Only in Bumscrew, South Dakota.”
“Don’t worry, Jo. There’s a couch. I’ll be fine there.” He parked the car, and they both got out.
“Don’t be an idiot, Jon. You’re six foot four. Just sleep in the bed with me, but remember, if you touch me, I’ll break every bone in whichever limb disobeys.”
He laughed as he grabbed their bags. “Noted.”
They dragged themselves into the hotel, and Josie rummaged around in her bag for her pajamas and toiletries.
“Shower,” she grumbled as she headed for the bathroom.
Jon plugged in their phones and Josie’s laptop before prepping the room for sleep, closing the curtains and adjusting the furnace. All the while, he worried over her, hoping she was all right, hoping that sleep would serve her well and she’d wake up feeling right and rested.
The door opened, and Josie walked out of the bathroom in front of a cloud of steam. Her wet hair had been twisted into a knot on top of her head, and he could see the curve of her naked breasts under her V-neck. His eyes followed the long line of her bare legs in sleep shorts, down to her feet.
His breath caught, his hands tingling as he fought the urge to get up and pull her into his arms. He wanted to let her hair down, let it fall all over him, wanted to run his nose down her neck to smell her soap, wanted to—
Stop.
She fell face-first into bed, nestling under the covers where she fell asleep almost instantly, the comforter rising and falling with her breath. He took a long, cold shower and pulled on his sleep pants with chattering teeth before slipping into bed next to her, overwhelmed by her nearness. She was close enough to touch but so far out of his reach.
And he counted every mistake that kept him from her as he slowly fell asleep.
Dust motes danced in the sunlight of Josie’s living room as she sat across from Hannah Mills’s parents with Anne at her side, watching their tears fall as they begged for help with finding who had taken their daughter. Their tears fell and fell as they embraced, and then their bodies came together, melting into each other, joined by a single tear that ran backward into an eye.
Rhodes’s eye.
His face was placid as he lied to Josie about Hannah. She knew he had taken the girl, her mind screaming that he was a killer as she sat in his living room, sipping lemonade.
She stood and touched the cold doorknob before opening the door, and she was crossing the threshold of her own apartment, just as it was the night he’d killed Anne. She relived every moment as she pulled her gun, stepped over Anne’s blood, pushed the bathroom door open. And there she was, her dead eyes staring at nothing.
But the bathtub wasn’t full of water. It was full of blood, dripping from her hair, smeared on the porcelain, pooled on the tiles.
So much blood.
She climbed in and held Anne’s face in her crimson hands as the blood began to rise, climbing up Josie’s body, pulling her in, whispering to give up, to let go, to submit, to follow Anne. She screamed and grabbed the shower curtain, pulling it off the rings with a string of pops, gripping the edge of the tub until she couldn’t hang on, her fingers slipping as it dragged her down until only her eyes and nose and lips were free.
Then, it pulled her under.
Hands were on her shoulders, pulling her out, bringing her back. Saving her. She heard her name.
Her eyes flew open, and she was in the hotel. Jon hovered over her, worry creasing his face as he searched hers. A sob escaped her throat, clenched tight and burning.
“Josie.” The tenderness in his voice unraveled her, and she crumpled, curling into him, crying into his bare chest in broken, choked sobs.
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair, whispering that it would be all right, that he was there, saying Shh in a way that healed her and hurt her and broke her.
When he leaned back, she lifted her face to his. And when she kissed him, when she pressed her lips to his, there was no thought, only decision and sweet relief.
He was everything she remembered, his lips strong and hot, arching into hers, and every curve of his body she knew by heart and memory pressed against her. His hands found her hair, unraveling her bun. His lips were hard as she kissed him back with all the love in her heart, all the pain, all the want and wishing.
All the waiting, all gone, all satisfied. And, for that one long moment, everything in the world was right and good and true.
He pulled away and looked down at her, thumbing her wet cheek. His eyes were so deep, so dark, his lashes long and sweeping as he looked down at her, begging her without speaking a word.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She nodded and tried to pull him closer, but he stayed put, looking her over.
“I mean it,” he whispered as he touched her hair. “Josie, it’s been a crazy couple of days, and I think maybe we should talk—”
She reached up and stopped his words with a kiss, a slow, hungry kiss that stopped him from questioning it, stopped him from doing anything but giving her what she needed.
But he pulled away again. “I’m serious, Jo. I don’t want to mess this up a second time.”
Josie just looked up at him, dumbfounded and hurt, too fragile to deal.
Tears spilled over and rolled down her cheeks. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t, not yet.”
“Then we should wait.”
“No,” she said through her tears.
“Yes,” he whispered as he pulled her close. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay.” Her breath was shaky as she pushed him away. “Nothing is okay.” She sat and swung her legs off the side of the bed. “I just wanted you not to ask questions. That’s all I wanted.”
It was all she could give.
Jon propped himself on his elbow, staring at her as she hunched over the edge of the bed. He touched her back, but she shrugged away from his hand.
“That was all you wanted? Goddammit, Josie. What about what I want? I’ve done everything I can to convince you of how I feel in the hopes that you’d come back to me. I’v
e waited for you all this time, given you space and gladly. I thought that was what you needed. I’ve tried to prove to you that I’m here, that I’ll always be here. But, once again, I have no say; your word is gospel. But what about what I want? Don’t I have a choice? Why does everything have to be on your terms?”
She didn’t move, couldn’t answer, couldn’t speak.
His voice dropped, cold and hard as ice. “Josie, through all of this, I never thought you meant it when you said you didn’t want me. But right now, I feel used, and that is one thing I won’t fucking stand for. What more can I give you? What more do you want from me?”
She didn’t turn, only said, “I don’t know if I want anything from you.”
“Damn you,” he hissed. “Goddamn you,” the words wavered as he spit them out. He turned away, moving to find his bag, digging through it to occupy himself. “Go get yourself together. We’re leaving.”
“I—”
He spun around, unable to hold it together for a single second longer. “No. That’s it. I can’t keep doing this with you. You think I’m the one who’ll hurt you, but the truth is that you’re far more dangerous than I ever was.”
He turned to stuff his belongings back in his bag, and she stared at his back as tears spilled down her cheeks.
Josie picked up her bag and walked numbly to the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a click. She looked at her reflection. But the girl who looked back was only a shell, the wasted husk left after the pain of her past ripped through her like a swarm.
The words she’d spoken echoed through her mind. “I don’t know if I want anything from you.”
She didn’t know how to want, how to give, how to love, or how she could live up to anyone’s expectations. She hadn’t known how to answer him. She couldn’t say the words she knew he wanted to hear because she didn’t know if they were true.
Josie sank down to the cold tiled floor and dropped her face to her hands, hoping he couldn’t hear her cry.
Dita sat in the dim theater room with her eyes on the screen and shock on her face. The gods were silent while they stared at Josie as she cried, her sobs the only sound in the room.
After a long, stunned moment, Dionysus stood and grabbed the remote. “Welp. I think we could all use a little breather,” he said as he clicked off the screen and brought the lights up.
A few gods got up to leave, but most stayed put, looking around like there would be an encore.
“I’m serious. Show’s over for now—at least, the public one. Come on, come on. Break it up, everybody.” He raised his dark eyebrows, his blue eyes expectantly surveying the room.
They reluctantly stood and shuffled out of the room, whispering and mumbling.
Dionysus sat next to Perry and Dita. “I think it’s time to get drunk.”
Dita side-eyed him.
“I’m not kidding, Dita. You need to get wasted, like, yesterday. Come on.”
He stood and started for the elevator, and Perry pulled Dita out of the chair.
“You really want to do this?” Dita asked her with an eyebrow cocked.
Perry shrugged. “Honestly, I could use a drink. Let’s go.”
They followed Dionysus to the elevator and up to his apartment. The furniture was all posh and plush with the occasional touch of animal print, which should have been tacky but Dionysus pulled it off with ironic hipster ease.
“Sit, please, ladies, whilst I prepare libations.” He motioned to the sectional couch with a smirk behind his scruffy black beard. He pulled his long hair back into a sloppy knot at his nape as he headed for the bar.
They sat down.
Dita was miserable.
Things had not gone as planned, the road trip taking a turn for the worst, complete with a panic attack and a rejection. Josie was broken, and her brokenness had crushed Jon’s spirit, smashed his heart in fresh and gruesome ways with nothing but a few words. Josie was so confused and gnarled, but Dita understood. She didn’t like it, but she understood.
“It’s too quiet,” Perry said with her eyes on Dita, who nodded. “Hey, Di, can we turn on some music or something?”
“Oh, yeah, hang on.” He punched an intercom on his wall. “Panos, could you come up? Bring your vinyl.”
“Sure thing, boss,” the voice on the other end said.
Dionysus made his way over with a tray of Fireball shots just as a satyr with small horns sticking out of his dreadlocks came in with a crate of records. His hooves clomped against the hardwood as he walked past and jerked his chin in greeting.
“’Sup, ladies?”
They waved, and Dionysus motioned to the turntables off the living room.
“Hey, Panos. You can set up over there.”
“Word,” he said with a smile.
Dionysus set his tray on the coffee table, took a seat next to Dita, and handed her a drink, passing another to Perry. He picked up one of his own and held it up. “Here’s to the mantra that should be repeated whenever things get stupid. Fuck it.”
“Fuck it!” the goddesses cheered, laughing when their glasses clinked together.
They knocked the shots back.
The cinnamon whiskey lit a trail of heat down Dita’s throat and into her stomach, spreading out like wildfire. She reached for another.
“That’s the spirit.” Dionysus raised another glass.
An hour later, Dita was properly foxed, as was Perry, who cackled at Dita’s reenactment of Ares getting knocked on his ass during the Trojan War. Dita’s tongue hung out as she crossed her eyes with her head lolling, and she made a choked gluh sound before flopping down on the couch, giggling.
“Ugh, what did I ever see in that asshole?” Dita’s cheeks were hot from all the laughing. And maybe the whiskey.
“That question is more loaded than you are,” Dionysus said before he slammed another shot.
Dita laughed. “I can handle it. I’ve found a new perspective,” she said cheerily.
Dionysus wailed the chorus of “New Attitude” by Patti LaBelle in an epic falsetto, and Perry giggled as she reached for another shot. Dita held her hand out for one, and when it made its way into her waiting fingers, she kicked it back.
“I do have a new attitude. I think I’m over it.”
Perry shared a look with Di, and they burst out laughing, heartily and with no remorse.
“What? Look, I’ll prove it.” She stood up too fast and stumbled as she tried to get past Dionysus and Perry. “Whoopsie.” She giggled again as she walked around the coffee table. “Okay, okay. So”—she put on a serious face—“I have realized something very important.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Ares is a dick.”
“And the sky is blue and Zeus is a whore. Tell us something we don’t know.” Di snickered.
“I’m getting to that.” Dita waved her hands at them. “What I mean to say is that I can’t find any redeeming qualities in him anymore. Aside from his giant hammerhead cock.”
“Hear, hear!” Dionysus cheered with his glass held high.
“He’s mean and cruel. He’s a baby. He’s a liar.” Her smile faded. “He has no respect for anyone else because he only cares about himself. He never cared about me, not really.” Her voice dropped. “It’s the cruelest kind of love, the kind that takes and never gives. But that’s what he does, and I won’t play a part in it any longer.”
She sat back down and reached for another shot in the quiet room as Perry and Dionysus sipped their drinks with their eyes on her.
“Don’t worry,” she said with the shot glass at her numb lips. “I’m not going to flip out or anything.”
Perry laid a hand on Dita’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re figuring it out.”
She lowered the still-full glass, staring at a spot across the room. “I still can’t believe how much my life has changed in the last few months. On the one hand, I’m grateful for the truth, but my heart feels like it’s been run through a meat grinder.”
“What are you gonna do?”
Dionysus asked.
“The thing I don’t want to do,” Dita said. “I’ve got to face Señor Cocko de Vulvus.” She knocked back the whiskey and set the empty glass on the tray with a clink.
“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Perry’s eyebrow was up.
“It’s like trying to give yourself a Brazilian. You can’t think about it, just have to rip that motherfucking wax off and scream about it afterward,” Dita said with a shrug as she sank into the couch. “I just want it to be over, and this is the last thing I can do that’s in my control. If I don’t face him, I’ll just be waiting for it, waiting for him to confront me or corner me or whatever he plans to do. I need to just take the reins and fucking do it.”
“So, what are you going to say?” Perry asked.
“Dear Ares, you slimy piece of shit, I hate you. Go away,” Dita said gleefully. “Do you think that’ll work?”
“Sure, sure. I’m sure he’ll be like, Gee, I sure am sorry. I’ll just go now. Hope I didn’t inconvenience you! Problem solved.” Dionysus gave a thumbs-up with a cheesy grin.
“Ha, ha, ha, and-a fuck you, too,” Dita sang.
Dionysus tried to hand her another drink, but she put up her hand to stop him.
“And what’s next for you?” he asked.
“I need to learn how to be alone.”
Dionysus burst out laughing but stopped dead, eyeing her. “Oh, you’re serious.”
Dita gave him a look. “Yes, I’m serious. I’ve been fucking up my relationships for millennia. It’s time to get it right, but I’ve got to fix myself first. Number one rule of love is that you can’t find it if you’re broken.”
Perry giggled. “Followed closely by, Timing is everything, and, Beware of rest stops after midnight.”
“Exactly. And then we can all move on.”
Perry and Dionysus sipped their drinks, and the statement hung in the air between them all, unanswered.
Josie looked out the window with music in her ears and the midnight forest flying by outside, holding herself tight with her arms around her waist and her feet on the dash, trying to sort through everything she felt and making no headway.