Leaning against the chain holding the swing, she let the years of frustration and fighting happen. Let them swell up inside, rising and falling with each memory that took her further and further away from her mother.
And she cried, tears dripping down her cheeks to splash on the hard dirt at her feet, her face raw from the salty wetness pelted by the cold wind, her heart one big ache.
She didn’t care if crying made her weak. She had to let this relationship with her mother go, this soul-eating, agonizing tug-of-war go, or end up swallowed by the toxic waste, bobbing along until another hit came her way.
But she was damn well going to mourn it the way it deserved before she did.
Her sobs wrenched from her chest, a physical stab to her flesh with each gasp for air until hands, firm and strong, wrapped around her waist and pulled her from the swing.
Scooping her up, Khristos carried her to the park bench, tucking her to him and cradling her close as he sat down.
He set his chin on top of her head, now curled into his neck, and rocked her, a soothing lull of slow, rhythmic ease. His free hand cupped her face, letting her bury her chin in his shoulder.
She didn’t know how long they sat that way or when her tears began to subside, but as the heartache of so many years full of anguish began to lessen, she realized something.
This was what she wanted in a man. A man who would silently hold her in the stormy sea of torment. A man who would provide safe harbor without condemnation or judgment.
“I kicked my mother out of my house,” she finally said, her throat hoarse and raw.
“You sure did.”
“I was awful.”
He stroked her hair and continued to rock. “Nah. This has been coming for a long time. With the added pressure of being Aphrodite, you were bound to blow. I won’t say I don’t wish the two of you had found a better way to work this out, but it’s a wakeup call for you both.”
“Says the man whose mother tied him to an apple for eternity.”
Khristos chuckled. “Says the man who willingly guards it in order to stick to his guns for eternity. What you did tonight was stick to your guns, Quinn. Was it harsh and heated? Yep. But there has to come a time in your life when you stand up for what you want and let go of what’s hurting you. You want to live a life full of love and happiness, and your mother only brings her worst to the table. It’s hard to hold your head up above the water when someone’s always dunking it back under. But you did.”
She shuddered against him. Oh, she did all right. She really did. “I don’t know what happened. I just lost it completely. Archibald had made such a beautiful meal and to have her pick it apart…one more hateful criticism and I think I would have lost my mind.”
“And now you have to mend it.”
She sat up and looked him in the eye. “Are you kidding me? My mother’s never going to let that go—not ever. In her mind, I was disrespectful and rude and that won’t go without some serious begging and scraping. I can’t beg her to forgive me for telling her the truth, and I can’t accept the way she behaves anymore. It hurts.”
Khristos cupped her cheek, wiping the remaining tears from her face while she fought not to curl into the warmth of his palm. “Will you come somewhere with me? There’s something I need to show you.”
She slid off his lap more for her own self-preservation than her desire to go anywhere but straight to bed and bury herself under the covers. “Sure,” she murmured.
Darnell popped out from behind an oak tree and smiled, his eyes sad. He held open his arms to her and she walked right into them without hesitation. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m on bad-guy watch and hug patrol,” he said on a chuckle, giving her a tight, warm squeeze. “So you ready, Miss Quinn?”
She took a step back from his comforting embrace. “For?”
“Hold my hand,” he said. “You, too, big guy.”
In seconds, they were on a quiet sidewalk beneath a streetlamp.
Her eyes went wide. “Did we just…?” Had he just…No. She couldn’t say it. It was too surreal.
Darnell grinned and snapped his fingers, the flash of his rings