Blood of Zeus (Blood of Zeus #1) - Meredith Wild Page 0,28

But what about the umber that’s mixed into my mane? And the separate blue ring in my eyes?

And the fact that I can warp metal—or break anything else that gets in my path—without thinking about it?

“I guess this was a fortunate coincidence,” she says a few minutes later, as we settle together onto the contemporary couch that Reg has installed into this new annex of the store. There’s a long black coffee table in front of us, with a pair of mismatched papasan chairs on the other side.

“Coincidence is God’s way of staying anonymous.”

“Well, thank you, Albert Einstein,” she teases before lifting her teacup and taking a sip. After letting her Crocs drop to the floor, she curls her legs up and leans a shoulder into the couch. “So now do I get a few Maximus Kane originals? Like an explanation for why you’re here a good couple of hours earlier than usual? I thought you and Jesse were doing a grading marathon last night. You should be exhausted and sleeping right now.”

She’s not done. I get that already. Still, I attempt to cut in. “Mom—”

“Oh, my word. You are exhausted.” She rubs a thumb beneath one of my eyes. “So dark already. This shallow into the semester. What’s your course load this time? Did they finally talk you into adding the intensive Shakespeare class?”

“No. Mom—”

“Wait.” She pauses, her gaze seeming to sear right past my tired features. “Wait a damn second.” She sets down her cup absently. “Max. Is this about…a girl? Are you seeing someone?”

I pull in a long breath. “At my age, they’re usually called women.”

She grabs my hands with eager glee. “Tell me about her. Tell me everything.”

“No.” I twist out of her grip. “Everything is what I need from you right now.”

Her face contorts with confusion.

“Mom…I need you to tell me the truth. The truth. About me. About why I’m like…this?” With that last word, I turn my palms heavenward. Except I’m settling for anything but surrender now. I’m lost, yes, but no longer content to be that way.

Suddenly she’s on her feet again. She whirls from me but tries to make it look breezy—the same way she brushes at small tears streaming her cheeks, expecting me to believe she’s just clearing off stray hair strands. It’s her trademark casual-but-not-casual move that she thinks she’s perfected. But I see through her thin act. All of it. She’s desperately trying, and failing, to hide her quiet grief.

“There’s nothing to tell, Max,” she rasps. “You were born different.”

“You’re lying.” I coil my fists atop my thighs, not trusting them to leave the new couch’s cushions unharmed. I’ve spent so long—too long—ordering myself to stay controlled, collected…concealed. For the first time in my existence, someone has given me permission to ignore all of that.

To seek out answers.

“This isn’t just about Jesse.” How long have I longed to blurt out those words? They’re cathartic but agonizing. “You have to know that I’ve been fighting against it ever since then. My strength. This…curse.”

“Stop.” She drops her hands. Her face is twisted with fresh anger. “It’s not a curse. You are not a curse!”

“Then tell me what I am,” I shout as I stand too. I don’t want to. Being in this state means I’m a step closer to hollowing a wall or wrecking one of Reg’s fancy new bookcases. But fury and impatience brew too hot in my veins.

Mom expels a long sigh. “Why now, Max? Why do you want to—”

“Was my father ever there?” It’s a question I’ve asked before. I ask it again—I have to—with the desperate hope of getting an answer. Maybe this time. God, please. This time. “Was he ever there, Mom? Does he even know about me? Is he alive?”

She turns and braces her hands against a bookcase. Her knuckles are white. Her shoulders are hunched.

“I’ve already told you. We met when I was in Egypt, volunteering for Healers with Heart. Your father was there too. He was…unlike anyone I’d ever met. Larger than life. He could sweep a woman off her feet with a well-timed look.” When she turns back around, there’s a tear-streaked smile at the edges of her lips. “And that’s exactly what he did. I fell in love with him, but it was fleeting. He was gone in a few weeks, before I even knew we’d created you.”

“And you never figured out where he went? Or where he came from?”

Her smile fades. “It was a whirlwind affair. There wasn’t time to