First Quiver

by Beth C. Greenberg

  And what about these sweet, innocent boys? Should they have to settle as well? Hadn’t there already been enough of that with their father? Even if Mia could unravel herself from this relationship, would any of them fully recover?

  This is my fault, all of it.

  Helplessness turned to agitation; guilt became determination. Only one conclusion made any sense. He couldn’t let Mia spend another minute in that man’s presence. Better to endure her wrath now and save them all from a horrible fate.

  Cupid was no fool; this was a huge risk. Mia would be angrier than ever, maybe even angrier than she’d ever been at “the asshole ex.” If this backfired, Mia might well push him away for good, and where would that leave them?

  Mia would languish in unrequited misery or wander aimlessly from one bad relationship to the next. Pan’s tail would grow back, followed by hooves and horns. He’d be a pariah on Earth, doomed to live out the remainder of his days exiled to the woods, cut off from the human contact he craved. His heart would blacken toward Cupid. As for Cupid, he and his shattered soul and useless, permanent erection would be locked forevermore in this Limbo-on-Earth, never to be desired again, never to return home to the life he knew or the people who once loved him, without the comforts of the palace or the amusement of his arrows. Alone with his conscience for all eternity.

  The answer was clear: he could not fail.

  Before Cupid could talk himself out of it, he gathered all three boys into Mia’s car along with a responsible supply of diapers, juice boxes, snacks, and enough toys to keep them all occupied. The older two clambered into their car seats while Cupid fastened the baby in and double-checked the security of Luke’s straps, grateful for once for the blasted belts.

  “Great job, Eli. What a good boy you are.”

  “Me too?” asked Jonah, pulling his seat belt across his lap and clicking it in place.

  Cupid leaned across the seat to ruffle Jonah’s hair. “Yes, you too. You are a huge help, Joe.”

  Jonah beamed. “Grams never takes us out at night,” he told Cupid with wide-eyed wonder.

  “I thought we could all use an adventure,” Cupid answered.

  The controls of Mia’s Subaru bore little resemblance to his Prius, but Cupid had no trouble finding the buttons to adjust the seat and mirrors as Pan had taught him. The engine roared to life and settled into an uneven rumble immediately drowned out by the stream of kids’ music pouring out of the speakers and attacking each of Cupid’s jangled nerves. He reached for the knob to turn it down but thought better of it when Eli and Jonah started singing along.

  According to the car’s computer, Cupid had twenty minutes to come up with some story to justify taking three little boys out for a late-night drive, interrupt Mia’s date after swearing he wouldn’t, and embarrass her in public this time. He’d have to tell Mia what he’d heard, one beat with zero chance of ever being reciprocated. He would have no problem describing for her how that particular sting would develop into a fiery sword searing her heart. With each mile the car closed in on Mia’s location, the familiar agony gripped Cupid’s heart more fiercely.

  The red light gave Cupid a chance to catch his breath. Three more blocks, said the GPS, and he’d just about worked out what he needed to tell Mia if she gave him a chance to talk before taking her boys and kicking Cupid out of her life for good.

  He exhaled deeply as the light changed to green, then stepped on the gas and eased into the intersection. A sharp horn blared to their right. Cupid jerked his head toward the huge truck barreling toward them. Headlights blinded him. Instinct took the wheel, swerving away from the truck into oncoming traffic.

  Skidding tires. Blaring horns. The squeal of brakes strained beyond capacity. Shattered glass and the sickening gnash of metal against metal.

  Silence.

  37

  Crash

  Reese’s car screeched to a stop inches from the yellow police tape. Mia threw open the door, ducked under the tape, and sprinted toward the rescue workers clustered at the center of the scene. Adrenaline flooded her system. The fight or flight question wasn’t even a dilemma—Q was a dead man. But first, she needed to hold her boys.

  “Miss. Miss!” One of the patrolmen jumped in front of her, arms spread wide. “You’re going to have to wait behind the—”

  “Those are my babies in there!”

  “Okay, gimme one sec.” The officer kept both eyes on Mia while speaking into his shoulder. “I have the mother here . . . yes . . . okay,” he said, then nodded to Mia. “I’ll take you in. Please, mind your step.”

  Mia followed the uniform into the thick smoke. Even through her tightly cupped fingers, she tasted ash. Sloshing through puddles and dodging car parts burnt beyond recognition, Mia repeated her mantra—“They’re okay. They’re okay. They’re okay”—into her hand until the words lost their meaning.

  The officer guided her around the massive truck, lying on its side like a wino sleeping off a binge as firefighters doused the hissing metal. Mia tried not to look, but the incinerated door confirmed what she already knew: the driver of the truck had not survived.

  “They’re okay. They’re okay.”

  At last, she reached the heart of all the buzz, and there stood Q, holding Eli and Jonah in his arms as he had in her living room not an hour earlier.

  “Mommy!” Eli cried, lunging from Q’s arms into his mother’s.

  “My baby!” Mia pulled him to her chest, and the flood of tears broke free. “You okay, E?” She loosened her grip on the boy to thoroughly inspect him for bumps and bruises. Nothing, as Q had reported. Mia peppered her son’s forehead and hot cheeks with grateful kisses.

  “Mommy, we did a spin!” Jonah scrambled out of Q’s arms and rushed to Mia’s side.

  “You sure did, bug.” She dipped down to gather him up in her other arm.

  Fixing an icy glare on Q, she asked, “Luke?”

  At least the selfish fucker knew better than to make excuses or move any closer. “He’s fine, Mia. He slept through the whole thing.”

  Keep your cool. “Where . . . is . . . my baby?”

  Q pointed over his shoulder. “In his car seat. We didn’t want to disturb him.”

  “You didn’t want to disturb him?” The insanity of his remark tuned Mia’s pitch to a piercing howl. “You might’ve thought of that before you took him out of his crib and drove him into the middle of an eight-car pileup.” Mia elbowed Q out of her way.

  “Mia, I’m so sorry. I—”

  She spun and cut him off. “Don’t.”

  Bent to peer through the car window, Mia confirmed Lucas was safe and sleeping soundly. Her forehead dropped to the heated glass, and she drew in a deep breath. And another. The acrid tang burned a path down her throat and into her lungs. Fury made room for relief, and hot tears flooded her cheeks.

  “Ms. Barnes?” A gentle hand landed on Mia’s back. She drew in one last shaky sob before peering up into the eyes of yet another official type wearing an expression that said, it’s been a long damn night.

  “Yes?”

  “Ma’am, my name’s Lieutenant Goode. You’re Ms. Barnes, correct? The mother of these three boys?”

  Mia nodded, fully ready for the officer to voice all the self-recriminations she’d been playing through her head since Q’s call had interrupted her date ten minutes ago—the longest ten minutes of her life. How could you have left your boys with a man who was so clearly unqualified to make responsible decisions? But if that’s what Lieutenant Goode was thinking, he kept his thoughts to himself.

  “We need to get you and your children out of harm’s way just as quickly as possible.”

  “Absolutely. Yes, of course.” Problem was, Mia couldn’t get her brain to work past the mismatch of her two hands versus three children with all their paraphernalia. “I’m sorry, I can’t . . .”

  “Ms.
Barnes,” he said calmly, “time is of the essence. Perhaps Mr. Arrows could be of assistance with the children?” The lieutenant’s gaze slid carefully to Q, then back.

  Sensing his opportunity, Q stepped forward and opened his arms. “I’m here.”

  This wasn’t the moment to turn away help, no matter her feelings. Mia simply could not manage the two older boys and Luke and all three car seats on her own. Without a word, Mia transferred Eli and Jonah to Q. The boys, trusting as ever, latched onto Q as if he’d been a fixture in their lives for years, not mere days. Working as quickly as possible, Mia slipped into the back seat and drew Luke into her arms while Lieutenant Goode climbed in the other side and unbuckled the car seats.

  “The diaper bag’s up front,” Q called back to her, “in case they need a snack or something.” A snack. What they needed were their warm, safe beds. If Jonah didn’t have nightmares for weeks, it would be a miracle, and who knew what kind of trauma Eli would suffer down the road?

  Mia bit back the rage she couldn’t express with a baby in her arms, a toxic smoothie of anger, guilt, betrayal, and bitter disappointment churning in her belly. Where was all that therapy when she really needed it?

  “If you’re ready, ma’am?” Under different circumstances, the sight before her might have at least inspired a grin: the strapping, authoritative lieutenant with a car seat grasped in each hand, a booster seat tucked under one arm, and the brightly striped diaper bag slung over his broad shoulder. “I’m going to lead you all out of here. Ms Barnes, I want you to keep your eyes glued to my back and stick as close to me as you can. Okay? And Mr. Arrows, you hold tight to those boys and stay right behind Ms. Barnes. Everyone got that?”

  Lieutenant Goode waited for them both to nod, then squared his shoulders and set a course through the ruins. Mia’s focus caught on the diaper bag bouncing against his broad back, its cheerful burst of color as out of place amid the disaster as sequins at a funeral. She tried not to jostle the sleeping baby, but as they neared the police tape, Luke was jarred awake by the commotion of shouted questions.

  “Can you tell us what happened? Who caused the accident?”

  Mia scanned the scene for the first time, squinting into a sea of flashes popping against the eerie haze. Luke whined in her arms.

  “How is it possible you survived unscathed? Are you a professional driver?”

  “What’s your name? Are you the father?”

  “Are you two estranged? Who was that man who dropped you off?”

  “Have you been drinking, sir?”

  Goode picked through the throngs and pressed forward. Mia followed the bouncing diaper bag. Beyond the crush of the crowd, the lieutenant drew them into a huddle. “Unfortunately, we won’t be able to release your car for several hours. Is there someone I can call to give you a ride home?”

  Mia spun toward the general direction Reese had dropped her off. “I think my date might be around here somewhere.” Her date, a good-looking, normal guy whose company she had actually been enjoying.

  Goode reached for the radio at his shoulder. “What kind of car was he driving?”

  Between her first-date jitters and the ugly scene with Q before she’d left home, Mia couldn’t even be sure of the color of Reese’s car, let alone the make. “Uh . . .”

  “Can you describe what your date looks like?”

  The easiest way to describe Reese was standing right in front of her. “He looks like him.” Mia jutted her chin toward Q, who acknowledged her comment with a tight grimace. “Y’know what? Never mind,” she said. “There’s no way his car would fit all the kids’ seats anyway.” And as much as she hated to admit it, Mia had a pretty good idea her date hadn’t stuck around for the horror show that was her life, not that she could blame him. Still, she’d felt something for the guy, and that made her even angrier at Q.

  “Why don’t I give you a lift?” said Goode. He seemed like a decent sort, but then, if there was one point this evening had hammered home, it was that Mia was truly the world’s crappiest judge of character. Though to be fair, the universe had been sending that message for quite some time now.

  Mia studied the name on his badge, the gold bar on his collar, and the trustworthy look in his eyes. If this guy wasn’t a safe bet, she might as well throw in the damn towel for good. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

  “Sure thing, ma’am. I can fit you all in my squad car if you two don’t mind a tight squeeze up front.”

  “That’s no prob—” started Q.

  “Oh, no. It’s just the four of us,” Mia said, answering Q’s hurt expression with a harsh glare.

  The officer followed Mia’s gaze to the man who had nearly killed her children. “Sorry, I thought . . .?” God only knew what Q had told the police about their relationship.

  “Mr. Arrows is definitely not coming home with us. Ever.”

  Cupid’s head slumped forward, and he pulled both boys tighter to his chest.

  “I see,” answered the officer, who seemed to be trying to work out their strange dynamic. “In that case, my car is just over here.”

  He led them to a black-and-white cruiser. Cinderella could not have been any happier to see her coach. Just let me make it home and put my babies to bed.

  The lieutenant organized the car seats in back and stepped aside for Mia and Q to settle the boys inside. “Try to ignore the whole police car aspect if you can,” he said, but Jonah had already connected the dots.

  “Mommy, can we put on the siren?”

  Mia clicked the belt into place across Jonah’s seat and gave him a peck on his sweet little nose. “I don’t think your brothers would handle the noise too well right now, Joe.” His sleepy pout tugged at Mia’s already brittle heartstrings. “Don’t you think we’ve had enough excitement for one night, kiddo?”

  Jonah’s little brain worked back through the evening’s events until a smile stretched from dimple to dimple. “We had a big adventure.”

  Mia chuckled. “A little too big, bug.” Waaay too big. Her chuckle bloomed into full-blown, maniacal laughter by the time she climbed into the passenger seat. Loony bin, here we come.

  Hold your shit together, Mia. Your boys are counting on you, and you’re all they have.

  Mia closed her eyes and pulled in three deep breaths, releasing each in a loud, practiced whoosh. Centered and feeling a bit more in control, she opened her eyes to a scene that nearly unraveled her all over again. Lieutenant Goode and Q were having an intense conversation, which ended with the lieutenant extending a handshake and a shoulder squeeze that seemed to say, “Good man.”

  I cannot swallow any more tonight.

  The lieutenant shot Mia a sympathetic smile as he slipped into the driver’s seat. He twisted the key in the ignition, and the headlights threw an otherworldly spotlight into the fiery haze. Q threw an arm up to shield his eyes, but he didn’t look away.

  She shouldn’t have met his gaze, but Mia feared she might miss her last chance to see the man she’d grown so fond of, the enigma who’d burst into her life and tossed all her carefully organized balls into the air. The man who’d thrilled her as no other man had ever come close to doing, whose outrageous ideas about love and destiny had raised her hopes and wrecked her. The man who, despite using terrible judgment in putting her children in harm’s way, had somehow managed to navigate an eight-car pileup without a single scratch on her boys or even her car. Mia should have cemented him in her memory as the larger-than-life superhero with the Q on his chest, not contaminated her last impression by taking in the broken man exposed by the harsh blaze of the headlights.

  The bright eyes that had danced with such childlike joy squinted back at Mia, desperate and defeated. The endearing, confident grin was replaced with a dejected frown. The miraculous body that had awakened hers with unspeakable pleasures was no more than an empty, beautiful husk.

  She
had no idea, really, who this person was or where he’d come from, but Mia knew for damn sure she would never again meet anyone like Quentin Arrows.

  38

  Town Hero

  Cupid perched at the edge of Pan’s couch, hands folded between his knees in what might have been a prayerful pose if he’d ever once met a god worth beseeching. Meanwhile, Pan’s method of viewing the TV coverage was pacing an even deeper rut in the carpet while taking turns yelling at the reporters and Cupid.

  “Under the radar, I told you. How is this under the radar?” Pan cradled his head with both hands as if it might blast off his neck.

  Though Cupid survived the crash, he was deeper in the stew than ever—with Mia, with the gods, and now with Pan. “I’ve apologized at least twenty-five times. I feel horrible, Pan. I don’t know what else to say.”

  “Quiet! I need to hear this.”

  “Have you seen the aerial footage yet?” the reporter asked TV Cupid. “Can we cut to the live copter feed?”

  The grisly matrix of twisted metal came into view as the propellers chopped up the smoky clouds over the accident scene.

  “Wow,” said TV Cupid.

  “I feel sick all over again,” said live Cupid. His stomach lurched once more just to back up his story.

  “Exactly. Our collision experts tell us there was a 0.06 margin for error, and you navigated through without a dent. It’s almost superhuman.”

  “Oh shit,” Pan muttered.

  Cupid’s attention snapped to Pan. “What?”

  “The gods do not appreciate any references to the divine. It raises their hackles.”

  “I learned that from the Speed Racer app.”

  Pan groaned and squeezed his temples. “Please tell me you didn’t also announce you learned to drive just last week from a video game.”