Page 26 of Midnight Pleasure

Ares took the ring, slipping it onto his finger with a smile. "It's perfect," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Just like you."

They kissed, the world around them seeming to churn away to nothing, and held each other. The fire had tested them, pushed them hard, but ultimately, made them stronger.

Hands locked together, they looked out into the land, with their hearts full, enjoying the view together. Apollo and Ares reposed on the porch—now theirs. The sun was dipping down beyond the horizon.

Chapter 13: Redemption and Acceptance

Two years had slipped on by since the fire as Ares breathed in the scent of fresh wood and hay, the light filtering through gaps in the walls from the evening sun, as he stood in the center of the barn. Their barn. The real-world manifestation of the life he'd built with Apollo was thousands of miles beyond the twisted expectations of his father's legacy. He couldn't resist dragging a rough hand down what once was sanded wood, remembering how dramatically his life had changed—all from an opulent and directionless waste of resources to this, a man with purpose and love in his heart and an almost utopic kind of peace.

Not that they had only rebuilt. The inferno had destroyed the fantastic number of hives they'd had before, leaving their bees with no home which was another thing Ares and Apollo had worked to take care of. This was a delicate process: one of patience, precision, and respect for nature's rhythms.

They built new hives together, carefully tending those bees that had made it through while ensuring they introduced some new ones. An almost inaudible hum of life slowly began to return. It was a sound that somehow could symbolize their own resilience, like the bees. The honey each different harvest brought was sweeter than anything; it told of engineering, love, and fierce determination, through which they survived the darkest of their days. Similar to them, the bees found a way to live again and even prosper; and their colony was a living, breathing tribute to the kind of life they had managed to create together.

It had been a labor of love, constructed by his hands with Apollo by his side. It had taken months of sweat and tears, but the result was beautiful. The wide doors opened onto the rolling hills of Midnight Pleasure, a view as vast and filled with hope as the future they were about to ditch into together. He and Apollo would exchange vows there in that very barn, surrounded by the townspeople who had become their family.

But the road to this very moment hadn't been easy.

Ares's carpentry skills had skyrocketed in the past two years. What had once been a sullen sort of thing done under duress, in Apollo's studio, had gotten to be something enjoyable. He liked the patterns of it, the way it went from raw material into something sturdy. Something long-lasting. It put him back into control, gave him an accomplishment that had been sorely missed for far too long in his life.

It wasn't long before the talent of his quickly came to the attention of the townspeople, and before he knew it, Ares was contracted to help rebuild houses damaged in a ravaging fire. It was extensive hard work, but rewarding as well, and for the first time in his life, he felt like he was part of something that was so much more important than just himself. Every house that he was able to fix and each board of wood he was able to cut, and shape brought the two of them closer to healing him and the town together.

It was then that the unexpected call had come—one of the requests; work on a very private and exclusive property in the deep countryside. An unknown owner, but an offer too juicy to turn down. Ares accepted, feeling the nagging curiosity as he drove deep into the countryside to a palatial country home rising seemingly out of nowhere in lordly splendor, surrounded by lush gardens and ancient trees.

Greeting Ares was an assistant from among the crowd, a fine tailor by the looks of the suit and polish of his smile. "Hello there, Mr. Sinclair. Do make yourself at home. Bitsy should be here any moment."

Ares blinked. The name echoed through his ears. Bitsy. It felt so removed, like an echo in the distance from a past in which he had long ago chosen to forget. He was passed a cold glass of water flavored with berries, and he found the luxury of the coldness to be refreshing upon the drive. He took a sip, unable to help his gaze as it strayed across the grand foyer.

It was a house that spoke of the marvels of architecture, tinged with a feeling of what a life would be like inside. Antique furniture, all passed on by generations or others from high-end dealers, were all relatively placed. There were shelves used for leather-bound books, family photo albums, small decorative items like porcelain figurines, and crystal trays, all speaking of a life steeped in history and tradition.

He had set into the foyer already when his eyes caught a huge painting of a woman. The subject was elegant, poised, with a hauntingly familiar expression. Ares's heart skittered a beat as recognition slowly dawned on him. He had seen that face in an old photograph hidden away in the attic of his father's estate.

A soft rustle of cloth, and it could have been that he was suddenly attuned to the sound of it. He looked, turning slightly to find a small, demure woman standing beside him, her presence nearly ghostly in its silence. She was older now, the motley of silver streaking the darkness of her hair, but those eyes. those eyes of hers were unmistakable. They were his eyes.

"Bitsy," Ares whispered, as if the name itself was a prayer forgotten.

Sadness mixed with determination played around the woman's thin smile. 'It's been a long time, Ares.”

Ares surged with so many emotions at once, shocked, furious, bewildered, but most of all deeply, wretchedly sad. “You… you are my mother.”

Bitsy nodded, eyes still holding his in a lock. "I'm. They took me from my family when I was just a girl, sold me to your father. I was fourteen when I had you. He kept me isolated, monitored my each move, and breathed down my neck. When you were born, he made me sign papers giving you up. I never had a choice."

Ares's throat tightened; the weight of her words seemed to press down on him. “ I’m sorry. He was a real asshole.”

Later, Bitsy's eyes would harden, a coldness sinking into her gaze. "I couldn't. Not with your father. He wouldn't allow it. He bought me, Ares. I was nothing more than a possession to him, but I swore I'd make something of myself. And, son, I did. I used every favor, every connection I could get my hands on to stay alive to make sure you wouldn't have to suffer under his thumb like I did.

The sting of tears came to Ares's eyes, but he blinked them back, his trembling fist tightening at his sides. "And now?"

Bitsy sighed, her shoulders slighly sagging, just for a second. "Now, I'm here to set things straight. When I learned about the stipulations in your father's will, I did what needed to be done. People disappear, Ares. People die. Hargrove was the first to go. You know hard being a lawyer is."

Ares stared at her, trying to adjust to the image of the mother he longed for within the specimen standing before him. "So, what now?"

Bitsy reached into her bag and pulled out a check, sliding it across the table toward him. "Take it. Forty million. Most I could get for you, but it's enough to make sure you and your fine fellow never have to work again. Take him to Greece, Ares. Live the life you deserve."

Ares' eyes widened as he looked at the check, feeling his heartbeat speed up. "I can't take this."

Bitsy threw up a hand, halting him. "You can, and you will. I may not have been there for you, but I can do this. I was a child when I had you, Ares. Your father took everything from me, but he won't take this from you."

It remained quiet for a moment, the tension in the room thick with unsaid words. Ares could almost feel a flicker of what might be gratitude, or perhaps just acceptance. Maybe he was just on edge from the embarrassment. He accepted the check, his fingers brushing hers briefly.

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