Page 97 of Heroes & Hitmen
Of course, Ares has inserted himself right in the middle of the chaos. Which is frankly… worrying. The man has the spatial awareness and self-restraint of a golden retriever off-leash, but god help me, he’s pretty. Shirtless and glistening from either sweat or tanning oil– probably both– his muscles flex as he moves, catching the sunlight in a way that feels criminal. His copper hair is damp and windswept, and for a moment, I forget how to blink.
He leaps into the air and spikes a ball over the net with perfect timing, earning an eruption of cheers from my sisters. They swarm him with high-fives, their smiles bright and unguarded, and he gives each of them a wide, easy grin as he slaps their palms. Thenhe turns around, readying himself for the next serve, and I’m treated to a full view of his broad, muscled back.
“You’re staring,” Jordan murmurs beside me, nudging my thigh with her foot.
“Am not,” I lie, dragging my gaze away and forcing my face into a neutral expression.
Except I totally was.
She snorts, stretching out like a smug little cat in the sun. “Uh huh. So, you ready for the great escape?”
My heart skips a beat at the cavalier reference to our impending getaway, and I exhale slowly as I look out over the water. The lake is doing that weird thing where it seems calm from a distance, but if you focus too long, you see the constant movement underneath– the restless shifting, like something waiting to surface.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I murmur.
She props herself up on an elbow, squinting over at me. “Why don’t you seem excited?”
“I am,” I reply quickly, tucking one arm behind my head and making an effort to sound more convincing. “Just… nervous. There’s a lot of pieces that have to fall into place still.”
My eyes drift back to Ares, unbidden. His face is all sunlight and ease, his laugh carrying across the sand like it belongs here.
Jordan follows my gaze. She doesn’t say anything for a beat, the silence stretching between us. Then she hums softly. “Right. Nothing to do withhimat all.”
“What?” I snap defensively as I whip my head around. “No, it’s not like that.
She slowly arches a brow.
“It’s not,” I insist. “It’s an act. You know that.”
“Do I?” she says lightly.
“Yes.”
She bites her lip to stifle a laugh, clearly enjoying this. “I’m just saying, you’re always looking at him like you either want to rip his clothes off or shove him into traffic. There’s feeling behind it.”
“That’s just my default expression,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.
But she’s not wrong. Notreally. Because when Ares glances over and catches me looking, something passes between us– heat, humor, an unspoken connection– and it turns my insides into jelly.
Jordan nudges me again, softer this time. “You’re not gonna back out on me, are you?” she asks, worry creasing her brow.
“Of course not,” I say, sitting up and looping my arms around my knees. “Staying isn’t an option. You know that.”
“I know,” she murmurs. “It’s just… you seem different. With him.” She pauses. “Happy.”
I go still, staring out at the lake. “Can anyone be happy with a knife to their throat?” I ask quietly.
She sits up and shifts closer, her hand brushing mine. “He’snot the one holding it.”
“I know,” I whisper. “But it’s been there since I skipped out on the pairing ceremony, just hovering. And I can’t pretend it’ll go away if I play nice. It’s either leave or bleed.”
Jordan nods solemnly, letting the subject drop. She just sits with me, shoulder to shoulder, watching the volleyball game unfold like it’s the only source of contention we’ll find.
“You think they’re going to run out of energy anytime soon?” I murmur.
“Unlikely,” she snickers.
Ares dives for a save, sending sand flying in every direction as he lands hard. My sisters shriek with laughter, and the ball thuds to the ground on the other side of the net with finality. The other team groans, evidently losing the game point.
