JON LEANED TOWARD HIS open window, welcoming the cold air whipping his skin. It was the closest he could get to a slap in the face.

It was three in the morning, and the road rolled under him, the lines hypnotizing as they disappeared under the Jeep in a steady beat that was almost audible. They had just driven through Chicago, and he was hurting for sleep with heavy limbs and a creaky brain.

He glanced over at Josie.

She lay curled up in her seat with a Mexican blanket over her and her head propped on the window as they bounced down the highway. She had only been asleep a few hours, and he wanted to give her as much time as he could. They’d be no good if at least one of them didn’t get some decent rest.

The worry and stress had been erased from her face as she slept, and she looked like a girl, peaceful and without a care. Emotion welled up in him as he imagined a different world, one where he could touch her hair like he wanted to so badly in that moment, to kiss her rosy cheek, warm from the heater. To pull her into his lap and hold her, protect her.

After the day they’d spent together, he was optimistic about his chances for redemption for the first time in three years. He’d been practically giddy, unable to believe that she was sitting next to him, smiling and open. Accessible. She’d been fighting him for so long that he almost forgot what it was like to make her smile, to see her happy in any form.

He hit a pothole, and the Jeep jolted.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath for not paying attention.

Josie stirred, pulling a deep breath through her nose. She blinked and looked at the clock. “Hey,” she said, her voice rough from sleep.

“Hey, sorry about that. Go back to sleep, Jo.”

“S’okay. I’m up.” She shifted in her seat and stretched her legs and neck as she took another deep breath. “Can we stop for coffee? We can switch places so you can get some rest.”

“You sure? I can keep going.” He would, too, bone tired or not.

“Yeah. You’ve been driving for”—she squinted at the clock—“thirteen hours. Holy shit. You should have woken me.”

Jon smiled sideways. “It’s all right. I really don’t mind.”

Josie looked over his tired face, illuminated by the dash. He leaned on the steering wheel like it was keeping him upright, and his hair was tied back in a small, messy ponytail, which somehow didn’t look douchey. In fact, it looked the exact opposite of douchey. Loose hair blew around his face, and he tucked a particularly aggressive strand behind his ear. She blinked stupidly before pulling her phone out to pretend to check the map as he pulled off the interstate and into a huge Flying J.

He parked the car, and they stepped out into the island of fluorescent lights in the dark night. Josie reached up over her head and yawned before following Jon inside, who was dragging ass.

Sweet ass, she thought.

But she caught herself and rolled her eyes.

Once through the automatic doors, she walked directly to the coffeemaker and picked up the biggest cup they had. She filled it to the brim with hazelnut brew and dumped in a couple of packets of sugar. When she took a sip, she made a face. It was terrible.

She was too tired to care.

Josie wandered around the massive store, looking at the trucker hats and dream catchers. She spun around a display of magnets and sipped her coffee for a second before walking around some more. When she came across Jon, he was flipping through postcards with a couple of energy drinks under his arm.

He picked up one with a cat on it that said, Meow’s the time.

“For Lola?” Josie guessed.

“She’s obsessed with cats.” He shrugged.

“Jon, she really is just about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks,” Jon answered with a smile at the corner of this mouth.

“I…I’m glad I met her today. Tori, too.”

“Me too, Jo.”

She didn’t know what else to say, and Jon didn’t press her, just smiled at her with understanding and turned for the counter.

He laid his haul down and pulled out his wallet. “Add her coffee to that, too.”

“Thanks.” Josie couldn’t remember the last time a man had bought her anything, even coffee. The realization depressed her.

They walked back out to the Jeep, and she held out her hand for the keys.

He pulled them out of the front pocket of his jeans, looking conflicted. “You sure you don’t want to sleep?”

“Nah, I’m good. It’s your turn. You sure you can handle me driving your Jeep?”

Jon laughed. “As tired as I am right now, that’s about the last thing I’m worried about. I know you can handle it.”

He stepped toward her and laid the keys in her hand, and her palm tingled when his fingers grazed her skin. Their eyes locked, and they stood there for a moment before she looked down and sorted through the keys.

“All right,” she said with her eyes on her hands, not wanting to make eye contact again.

When he turned, she snuck a look at him as she made her way to the driver’s side and unlocked the door. She leaned over the seat and put her coffee in the cupholder. Then, she hauled herself in and slipped the key in the ignition just as Jon climbed in next to her.

He laid his head against the headrest and looked over at Josie as she started the car, adjusted the mirrors, moved the seat up. When she looked over and caught him looking, she thought he was suppressing a smile.

“What? You’re like a foot taller than me.”

“I didn’t say a thing, Josie.” He smirked and folded his arms across his chest, shifting down to get comfortable. “Wake me up if you get sleepy.”

“I will.”

“Where are we stopping?” he asked.

“Rapid City, if we can make it that far. We should get there tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully, we can eat and get cleaned up, maybe catch a nap.”

“Sounds about like heaven right now.” His voice was heavy as she pulled out of the truck stop and made for the highway.

She commandeered the radio, plugging in her phone and starting her Go-Go driving mix. An electropop song came on, and Jon huffed.

“Got something to share, Jon?”

“I don’t know how you listen to that.”

“Well, I don’t know how you survive on country music from the sixties, so we’re even.”

He snorted a laugh.

“Jon, we’ve been listening to Merle Haggard all day. Please, give me this.”

“Fair enough.”

Josie smiled as he shifted again and closed his eyes. He was snoring softly within minutes.

She drove and sipped her coffee, oddly content in the quiet of the night, comforted by his presence next to her. The next few days would be long and rough as they fought to make up ground on Rhodes, and fear flitted through her again when she questioned whether or not they would find him at all.

They hadn’t heard from a single motel on the list, but she tried not to consider that fact. She couldn’t do a one thing about it. Instead, she focused on imagining scenarios in which they caught him. She pictured chasing him with her gun drawn, wondering if he had a firearm and how quick he’d be to use it if he did. Rhodes had nothing to lose, and men like that were dangerous.

She looked over at Jon, barely lit by the dash and the passing headlights. His face was soft as he slept, his body tall and sturdy in the seat next to her, and she was grateful for him. For his company. For his help.

She’d been so alone for so long that she forgot what it was like to have a companion, a friend. But it was more than that, she knew. Those old feelings she’d pretended were long gone stirred in her chest, feelings that reminded her of before. Feelings that scared her.

He hurt you. He left you. He chose her, she told herself.

But she found the power of the words faded like paper in the sun every time she repeated them.

Josie drove all night with her thoughts tumbling around her head. There was so much to sort through, and when left alone to consider it all, she found herself overwhelmed and unsure, like she was being pulled into quicksand. It was Rhodes, the chase, the case, the fear. It was Anne, the memories of her invading Josie’s mind, ratcheting her anxiety that they wouldn’t catch him. And Jon, her feelings for him too loud to ignore.

By ten in the morning, Josie’s eyes burned, the blazing sun rising behind her as they approached Sioux Falls, South Dakota, which was the last decent-sized city for two states. The sun had been up in full force for hours, and she’d been contemplating digging out her sunglasses for at least one of those but didn’t want to wake Jon.

When her burning corneas would no longer be silenced, she finally caved.

She bit her lip and reached behind Jon’s reclined seat for her bag, finding the opening to slip her hand in. She leaned awkwardly across the armrest, her back cramping as she fished around for her sunglasses but came up empty. There was no leaning any further over either, not without letting go of the wheel, so she bit her lip as she found the strap of the bag and gave it a good tug, trying to maintain some gentility. The force jostled his seat despite her efforts, and he stirred.

He rubbed his eyes and squinted as she sat back down, defeated.

“Fuck, Jo, I’m sorry. What time is it?” He scrunched up his face as he looked at the clock on the dash, trying to make out the time. “You should have woken me.”

“It’s all right. Did you get some rest?”

“Yeah, a bit. You doin’ okay?”

“I feel like I belong in The Evil Dead, but I’m hanging in there. Let’s stop for breakfast if you’re hungry?”

“Starvin’.” He shifted and straightened his seat back. He glanced around. “Where are we?”

“Just outside of Sioux Falls.” She reached back and dragged her bag into her lap.

“I wonder how far we are behind him.”

“I don’t know. Hopefully, we’ll get a call from one of the motels on the list.” Her fingers grazed her glasses, and she pulled them out of her bag, slipping them onto her face with relief.

“Well, you sent it to about a hundred. I hope that we get at least one call.”

The comment filled her with unease. “I actually sent it to closer to three hundred, but as of right now, he would have stopped at only four out of all of those. There’s no way every hotel saw it or cared,” she said, beginning to realize something very crucial, something she hadn’t fully considered. “Half of them probably went into the trash, and if they didn’t, who’s to say it was even posted somewhere another attendant would see it?” She just kept rambling, suddenly feeling like their entire plan was futile.

They were chasing a ghost.

“Don’t think that way, Jo. We’ll just stick to the plan. There’s really only one way into Washington from here. We can head him off in Spokane and work backward. We’ll get a lead. I’m certain of it.”

“It’s going to be close, Jon, because we are working with a lot of what-ifs.”

“Something will pan out. I have to believe that.”

“What if we don’t make it? What if—”

“We will. Let’s focus on making sure you talk to somebody at every cash motel, starting with Spokane. Go through your list again, and call the ones you couldn’t get ahold of. If we can make sure that every one of them knows he’s coming and that there’s money in it for them if they call us, I have to believe somebody’ll take us up on it and rat Rhodes out.”

“But what if he’s not even on this route? I mean, what if he’s in Tijuana or California or—”

“We’ve been through all this, Jo,” he answered.

She took a breath, comforted for the moment at least.

“It’s gonna be okay. This is the best we’ve got, so let’s see it through. We’ll figure out what’s next when we get there. All right?”

Josie nodded with her eyes on the road, pushing her nerves away as they exited the highway and made for the Waffle House just off the service road.

They climbed out of the Jeep, and Josie tried not to think of Rhodes. Her arms and legs ached, her hips and knees stiff from sitting so long, and she considered finding a patch of grass to do yoga on, but she was too tired to bother.

She caught sight of Jon as he stretched with his eyes closed and arms in the air. His elbows popped as he arched his back, and his shirt lifted up to show the V his hips made down into his jeans. She caught herself biting her lip and smoothed her face before he opened his eyes.

She followed him to the door, which he held open for her, and they sat down at a booth. Her mind was still on Rhodes, and unease sank into her bones, into her brain, as she sat across from Jon.

“You’re still worrying, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

He looked into her eyes, his irises deep and blue. “Do you trust me, Josie?”

The question caught her off guard. Did she trust him? It was such a simple question. If he had asked her two days before, she would have said no without even needing to consider, but that had changed.

The thought upset her. All that she knew about him and about how she felt about him had been demolished, and now, she had to rebuild on the rubble of what had once been there.

Even still, she knew the answer. She’d always known the answer. “I trust you.”

“We’re going to find him. If not through this route, then through the next one or the one after that.”

He believed every word, and his conviction broke her heart open.

She could only nod.

They ordered breakfast and went over their plans, falling into silence when their food hit the table. Josie pushed her food around her plate as memories flooded her mind, uncorked by the awareness of how much she’d changed since Anne died. She was obsessed, consumed, her life no longer recognizable.

She justified it, her reasoning so familiar, so old and so worn that it had lost its heat and meaning.

Moments flashed through her thoughts. Following Rhodes around his life every day. Hannah lying on a slab in a body bag. Anne as Josie had found her that night, the sound of dripping water.

What terrified her most was when she saw herself from the outside, lonely and alone, possessed by her desire to find an end. Something essential in her had splintered and fractured, burst into pieces, and the shards would cut anyone who tried to touch her. They were protection, and they were her cage. She was too broken to love, too wounded to heal, and no one knew because no one could help her.

But of everyone in the world, Josie knew Jon understood.

Her heart cracked open a slit, calling his name. She wanted him. She wanted him now as much as she’d always wanted him.

Everything she’d thought she knew about herself—about what she wanted, about how she felt and what she needed—was wrong.

And she had no control over anything.

Panic wound through her chest, climbed up her throat. It was all too much, the room too bright and too hot as sweat beaded on her forehead, her lungs burning like she was drowning. She tried to swallow down her hysteria, holding her breath for a few seconds to break up the panic attack slowly taking her over, pulling her under.

Josie pushed her coffee away and downed the small glass of water. She reached for her fork and tried to take a bite of her breakfast. The potatoes were like sandpaper in her mouth, and the thought alone of the eggs made her stomach churn. The sounds of the diner were amplified, the clinking of plates and silverware assaulting her ears. She laid her fork down and sat back in her seat as every bite she had eaten raced back up.

She swallowed hard.

Jon eyed her. “You okay, Jo? You’re looking a little green.”

Josie smiled, trying for reassuring. “Yeah, just need a minute. I’ll be right back.”

She laid her napkin on the table and raced for the restroom, closing the door behind her as soon as she was across the threshold. She leaned against it and closed her eyes.

You’re having a panic attack. You’re not going to have a heart attack. Just breathe.

She opened her eyes and walked to the sinks, her reflection green and pale under the fluorescent lights of the diner restroom. The water was ice-cold. She rinsed her face and wet a few paper towels, pressing them to the back of her neck, hoping to all that was holy that she wasn’t about to get on her hands and knees and hug porcelain in a Waffle House.

The way out was to rationalize. If she could quantify her worry, she would calm down, she knew.

The first panic attack she’d had after Anne died scared her so badly, she’d almost called 911. But by the sixth, she had known how to survive it.

So she started with Rhodes, the one logical piece of the puzzle. There was nothing to control and nothing else to be done. They’d deployed every plan they had. Everything was in motion. They would catch him, or they wouldn’t, and whatever the outcome was, she would have to move forward.

But moving forward was a dream, a mirage, a fantasy. She didn’t know if she would ever heal, didn’t even know how to live a normal life anymore. She didn’t understand how she could participate in a world where Anne was gone and Rhodes was free.

But for the first time since Anne had died, she remembered what it was like to live. Jon had given that to her.

All Jon had done since he came back was try to help, try to be there for her—even when she’d pushed him away. He’d never given up, and she didn’t believe he ever would. But she didn’t know how to let him in or if she could. Not after everything she’d been through. Not after losing Anne. After losing herself.

The cool water dripped down her neck and into the sink as she stared down at the holes in the drain. She pulled in a deep breath, trying to calm her frantic heart, hoping it was only fatigue that had pushed her to the edge. Maybe she’d wake up feeling better with a fresh perspective and a handle on her emotions.

But she didn’t know if it would be enough. Because she might never let go of her past, might never find a way to stitch herself back together to be a part of the world again.

Josie was in the bathroom long enough that Jon almost flagged the waitress to check on her, but she dragged herself back to the table, looking like a rag doll, before he had a chance.

He opened his mouth to speak as soon as she sat down. “Jo—”

She held up a hand. “I know. I’m fine, really. I’m just so tired. I’ll be right as soon as I get some rest.”

He didn’t believe a word but didn’t push her. “You barely ate. Want anything to go?”

She looked like she might vomit and shook her head.

Jon dug the keys out of his pocket and passed them across the table. “Go on and get settled in while I pay our bill.”

“I have cash.” She fumbled for her bag.

“Just go on, and I’ll get this one. You can get the next one.”

She just nodded and slipped out of the booth. The fact that she hadn’t argued worried him more than anything.

He waited in line and paid for their breakfast, trying to figure out what was the matter as he compiled a list of questions for when they got on the road again. But by the time he reached the Jeep, she was already tucked under the blanket, asleep and looking feverish. She didn’t even stir when he started the car.

As they drove through South Dakota, Josie mumbled and shifted in her sleep. Every second of her distress ratcheted his anxiety, and he worried over if it was just Rhodes she was upset about or if there was more to it.

Her legs jerked, jolting his pacing thoughts. He looked over at her when she whimpered and turned his eyes to scan the upcoming exit, looking for a place to stop. He spotted a motel just off the interstate in a tiny town ahead.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled as he took the exit.

When the Jeep came to a stop in front of the office, she cracked her eyes open.

“Are we there?” Her voice was scratchy and dry.

“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’ve 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.

When they’d left the motel, she’d popped in her earbuds so they could both have some semblance of privacy for a while. Jon fumed from behind the wheel with his head propped on his hand, fingers tangled in his long hair. He hadn’t made eye contact with her once. His anger rolled off him and filled every molecule in the air.

But she just didn’t know what to say to make it right. She didn’t even know what right was.

The moon strobed between the trees as her thoughts jumbled together like a pileup, all metal and sharp points and busted glass. It was too much, too many things to deal with at once.

“You’re far more dangerous than I ever was.”

It was true. For so long, she’d been alone, fanning her anger and pain, blaming him for everything. For abandoning her, for loving someone else, for not saying goodbye. But it was all a lie. Everything she felt had been based on her perception, which was sideways and skewed. He’d tried to tell her, tried to make her understand, but she was too bullheaded to hear him.

Jon had done what he believed was right at every step, and she’d only punished him for it.

She felt like she was waking up from a coma, learning how to breathe again, dragging her heart behind her like atrophied limbs. And she couldn’t give him any part of herself until she found a way to heal.

Jon stared at the road with his forehead tight and his heart in a pressure cooker.

After everything they’d been through, after all he’d tried to do, and she couldn’t even have a conversation with him about herself, about them. He wasn’t asking for the world, just for her honesty. But he wanted everything she wouldn’t give, and she wanted the one thing he wouldn’t.

He’d give her anything, everything, but he refused to be used.

She was twisted up and mangled, but he couldn’t help her, no matter how hard he tried. No one could; she threw every attempt on the fire.

Josie had said she didn’t know if she wanted anything from him, but he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. Maybe his feelings were one-sided. Maybe her feelings were only physical, only attraction, and she’d never really cared for him at all. His stomach burned at the thought. He could have read her wrong the whole time. How could he win her heart back if he’d never had it to begin with?

But he knew better. He hadn’t imagined it all. She had been through so much, and he knew it, understood it. He just couldn’t be a casualty anymore, wouldn’t put his heart on the line again for her if she wasn’t even willing to try.

It was late, though Artemis wasn’t sure of the time as she lay in her tent on her feather bed, running her hand through the sheepskin underneath her. For hours, she had been chasing sleep, staring at the roof of her tent, watching the shadows cast by a flickering candle as it burned down.

She should have been happy that Jon and Josie had fought, that they were once again at odds. But, as Artemis had watched their hearts break, she found no joy. The game suddenly seemed cruel, and she wanted no part of it. Josie was too hurt, too confused to toy with, to keep away from a man who would do anything, be anything for her. A man whom she loved, a man who could heal her. If Jon walked away again, she would never recover. That much, Artemis knew.

It was a life that had become her own.

She slipped out from under her blankets and stood, feeling her rug under her bare feet and then the grass as she pushed her tent flap open and walked into the night. Her shift was long, nearly dragging the ground, illuminated by the moonlight and glowing against the black of the evening around her, as black as her hair that tumbled down her back.

The moon called to her. She made her way through the sleeping camp with her eyes on the stars, scaling the slate boulder to stretch out on the cool stone.

Solitude was not only something she was accustomed to, but something she sought. When she was alone, there were no expectations. Her failures could be forgotten or remembered. She could be whatever she wished, even nothing at all, a slave to her instinct as she hunted or as still as a river stone, watching as life rushed past.

Perhaps Eleni was right. Perhaps she and Josie were too much the same. For once, Artemis’s logic and instinct failed her, and she reached the point where she wanted Josie to find peace more than she wanted to win. Josie’s pain had become her own, a mirror of her own loss, her own loneliness.

Orion twinkled on the horizon, and her eyes followed the line of stars that made his form.

“I have missed you more than can be imagined,” she said to the sky. “I do not know where I lost myself, but along the way, I have changed, and I wonder whether you would be proud or disappointed.”

A lone tear fell from the corner of her eye and into her ear. She could never have him back, but she didn’t know how to let him go. Time had healed her, but the break had never been set, and what was left had healed crooked, bent and twisted from neglect.

She was just as broken as Josie though worse. Because for Artemis, there was no escape.

The only way out was through herself.

She was ill equipped to handle it on her own, but there was no one to help her. She wouldn’t let them; she had pushed them all away. It was a prison she’d built without knowing, comprised of bitterness and anger, designed and imposed by herself alone—not Gaia, not Aphrodite. It was Artemis’s own doing.

She could not change the past any easier than she could fathom how to shape her future. And, as she watched Orion twinkle against the black sky, she could not comprehend how to find herself again after being lost for so very long.