CHAPTER TWENTY

HADES

As we walked into Lara’s house, I could feel her eyes constantly flicking between me and my mom, like she was trying to figure out what we needed, how she could help. I didn’t miss the way her brows furrowed, her concern evident in the way she studied me. She had been through a lot today, and yet she still managed to care about me, about my mom. It wasn’t lost on me. She could have left us alone, could have just let me handle it like I always did, but she didn’t. That look in her eyes reminded me so much of how I felt about my mom—always worried, always wanting to fix things, to make them better.

And I hated that feeling. I hated seeing my mom like this, beaten down by life, by the mess I called home. But Lara didn’t seem to care. She just kept pushing, kept making sure we were okay, and that messed with me in ways I couldn’t explain.

Her dad was... different. He was calm, welcoming even. He didn’t look at us with pity or judgment, just offered help, let us stay without hesitation. I could see why Lara trusted him. He had an easygoing vibe that was foreign to me. I didn’t trust people like that, not anymore, but for some reason, I didn’t feel like I needed to keep my guard up with him. Not right now, anyway.

He showed us to the guest rooms. He even made sure to ask if we were comfortable, if we needed anything, and I tried to push down the bitterness that rose in my throat. No one had ever done that for me. It felt... strange. But in a good way, I guess.

When my mom hesitated at the doorway to the guest room, her eyes searching Lara’s dad, he smiled gently and told her she could pick whichever room she liked. But then, she insisted we take the room together. I wasn’t going to argue with her. She always insisted on being the one who slept on the couch, on the floor, if it meant I got the comfort I deserved. I hated that she thought she had to do that.

“I’ll take the couch,” I told her firmly, though I could see the way her eyes welled with protest.

“No,” she murmured, shaking her head. “You need to rest. Take the bed, Hades.”

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t let her take the couch after everything she’d been through. She deserved a bed, even if it was just for one night.

“Mom,” I said, voice soft but firm, “you’re taking the bed. I’ll be fine on the couch.”

She didn’t argue further, though I could see the sadness in her eyes. It didn’t make sense to me how someone could hurt her. She was the sweetest person I knew, the only person who truly cared about me, about everything I went through. And yet, the world had never been kind to her. It wasn’t fair.

As I settled onto the couch, I tried to push the thoughts of my own home out of my head. But the weight of it lingered—my father, the anger, the chaos. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to keep pretending everything was okay. But at least, for tonight, I had this—this small piece of peace. Thanks to Lara.

She’d saved us. She didn’t even know it, but she had.

I tried to push her away, but I couldn’t anymore. Every time I thought I had a handle on my emotions, she’d do something, say something, that would pull me back in. It was maddening. We were so different. And it was obvious, even here, in her house. It wasn’t just the way she carried herself or the warmth she exuded—it was everything. The place she called home was the kind of house people like me only dreamed of having. Clean, spacious, warm. It didn’t have the smell of alcohol or the constant tension in the air.

So why? Why did she care about me that much? I didn’t understand it. No one had ever cared about me like that. People might show a passing interest, but no one did this. No one offered a hand without expecting something in return. But with her, it was different. She didn’t expect anything from me. She just wanted to help, wanted to make things better for me and my mom, even when I didn’t deserve it.

Maybe it was because she liked me. That would make sense. She liked me, and that was why she was trying so hard. But I didn’t believe that was it. It wasn’t that simple. If it were, then why would she continue to be so kind when all I did was push her away? People like me didn’t get people like her. That was the truth. So, why was she still here?

And as much as I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t help but wonder—was this real? Was she really doing this for me, or was it just some kind of pity? Was this just something she was doing because she felt sorry for the mess that was my life? I didn’t want to think about it, but it kept creeping in, like a dark cloud that wouldn’t go away.

But then, looking at her in this house, at the way she looked at me—there was something in her eyes that I couldn’t quite figure out. It was more than pity, more than kindness. And for the first time, I didn’t want to push her away. I wanted to let her in.All in .But I was terrified. Terrified of what it would mean for both of us if I did.