Page 81 of Zeus

"I thought I saw that surly bastard on my way back from the store, but he's a sneaky fucker. There one minute, gone the next. Guy probably gives little kids fucking nightmares," he mutters, his eyes locked outside the truck.

"I bet he's a huge fucking softy with little kids," I say. "It's everyone else that has to worry about him."

I hiss a laugh when the first text message pops up on the phone. I turn it to show Zeus, who smiles when he reads it.

Unknown: Nyx is allergic to children.

I know it's Casper on the other end. What I don't know is if Nyx is there with him, already having made it back to the Cerberus property, or if Casper is speaking for him.

"Ask him how the neighbor's doing?" he says, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Before I can even type it out, Casper sends a middle finger emoji.

I turn it so he can see it. His laughter echoes in the cab of the truck, making me smile as well.

"I've got to hear that story," I say.

Unknown: Moving on...

The next text is an address, and I turn it so Zeus can see.

"See? We aren't alone in this."

I pull up a GPS map on the phone and enter the address, making note of the directions before powering it off and shoving it back into my pocket, before turning the truck in that direction.

"Tell me about the neighbor," I say as we get on the road.

More than anything right now, I need an escape from what we've been through and what we're facing. The joy in Zeus's eyes at Casper's response tells me that he needs it too.

"He hooked up with one of the women who came to stay at one of the rental cabins," Zeus explains.

"Oh shit," I whisper. "That could've been messy."

"Could've been?" He chuckles. "He didn't realize that she's one of the women who comes once a month for a little girls' trip."

"Oh, then it is messy. Can't shit where you eat."

I feel his eyes on the side of my head, but I don't look in his direction. The same advice could apply to the two of us and to what we've been up to.

"The problem is facing the fact that he'll run into her again, and if they continue to come, then they'll start to wonder why we're always on the property."

"Maybe he just lies and says we have a boys' trip every month. What's good for the goose and all that."

"It's possible, but my guess is he never steps foot outside of the house again."

"That would suck, but hell if I wouldn't like to be there right now just soaking up the A/C and not having to worry about getting shot or stabbed in the back when I'm trying to sleep," he says.

"Unless you take the piece of fried chicken Nyx was eyeballing," I say.

He laughs again. "Unless I do that."

The conversation dies off. We have a million things we could talk about. Thousands of questions swirl in my head, but knowing we're being listened to, even if it's by someone we trust and know will be on our side, those are subjects neither of us is willing to have with any type of audience.

Hell, I don't know if I would be ready to have them without someone listening. I know the answers to my questions. I know the interactions we've had recently will lead nowhere, but at least not asking postpones the pain I know is sure to come. I don't think I still regret coming to work for Cerberus. There have been simple looks the man has given me that have begun the healing process on some very old wounds he left me with years ago. The physical aspect of what we've done together has helped restore parts of me that felt unworthy because of the way I was treated. They have been an unspoken reassurance of sorts.

I'm also emotionally adept enough to know that although old wounds may heal, new wounds are sure to be opened up, exposing me to the need for more healing.

In this moment, with him riding quietly beside me, no hint of agitation or anger flowing toward me, I can almost convince myself that whatever happens later, whatever pain is coming, was worth the experiences we shared. I also know that view will change when we're hit with the aftermath of what we've done.