“Do not be,” he said. “I promise everything will be all right.”

For once, I believed him. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I know I was never very good at showing it, but you’re my best friend. Even when things were rotten, you were always there no matter what I did to you. I’m so sorry for everything.”

“What’s done is done,” he said quietly. “All I have ever wanted was for you to be happy, and if this is the way…”

“It is.” I propped myself up on my elbow. “This is exactly what I want.”

He stared down at our joined hands, his expression forlorn, and he said nothing. He really had been so damn wonderful to me—maybe I hadn’t seen it at the time, but I did now. He deserved so much better than what I’d given him, and in that moment, I wanted nothing more than for him to find it. I was only sorry it’d taken me so long to realize it.

Before I could stop myself, I leaned in and touched my mouth to his. It was a gentle, tender kiss, the kind he’d given me the night we’d nearly slept together a second time. Now I was glad he’d stopped me. Between us, we had enough regrets without inviting more.

Warmth spread through me as I moved my lips against his, and all too soon, he pulled away. For several seconds, neither of us said anything, and my heartbeat resonated in my ears. How was I supposed to say goodbye when I’d spent my life thinking I would never have to?

“I will be there for you whenever you need me,” he whispered. “All you need to do is ask.”

A lump formed in my throat. “Thank you. Come visit me sometime, yeah?”

But even as he nodded, I knew he never would, and asking him was cruel. He deserved the chance to move on. We both did.

“Lie back,” he murmured, and I obeyed. His silver eyes met mine, and as the weight of sleep pressed down upon me, he gave me one final smile. I returned it.

“I love you,” I whispered, and he was silent. At last my eyelids grew heavy, and darkness closed in around me as eternity claimed me as her own. It was painless, peaceful, everything death should have been, and I went quietly. I went gladly.

The last thing I saw was him.

* * *

The sun in my afterlife wasn’t as warm or as bright as the real thing, but it was enough to wake me.

I shielded my eyes, squinting at my surroundings. I lay in the bed that I’d died in, but it was daylight now. Somewhere in the distance, birds chirped and a strong breeze rustled the trees, and the flowers hanging from the rafters of Mother’s cottage filled the room with the most incredible scent.

So this was what my afterlife would be.

My afterlife. Adonis. I scrambled to my feet and looked around the one-room home, but he wasn’t there. My heart sank. He had to be here. After everything that had happened, he deserved peace.

I pushed open the door and stepped into the artificial sun. It wasn’t the real thing—beyond the illusion of my afterlife, I was among the dead in the caverns of the Underworld, surrounded by the very rock I’d hated for eternity. The unbearable weight was gone though, along with the wall that had haunted me for eons. Apparently they’d died with my mortal body, leaving my soul free. Finally.

Inhaling deeply, I looked around my afterlife. Flowers bloomed in the garden, a rainbow of colors and as fresh and new as the spring, and the scent of a summer day wafted through the air. It was beautiful, but it couldn’t be perfect, not without—

A figure appeared on the path, shaded by the trees, and warmth filled every inch of me. As he stepped into the sunlight, I grinned and launched myself down the path.

Adonis.

He caught me in an embrace, his strong arms lifting me into the air, and he kissed me with the same love and passion and happiness that coursed through my body. Every doubt and regret I’d entertained in those few seconds without him vanished, and in that moment, I saw our eternity.

He was here. We were together.

And at long last, I was home.

* * * * *

God of Thieves

There’s a rumor going around that I stole my big brother’s cattle the day I was born. That hours into my life, I not only managed to wrangle fifty prized cows and hide them from Apollo, but I invented the lute, as well.

Hours into my life. Not days, not years, but hours.

Come on. I’m good, but I’m not that good.

So let’s set the record straight: I was seven when I invented the lute, and Apollo spent the next four years trying to steal it from me. But since he’s not me, he failed time and time again, and that’s when I stole his cattle to see if I could—when I was eleven.

Eleven years old, not eleven hours old. I guess it sounds better to say that a newborn did all those things, somehow making me more godlike or powerful, but I’ve never met a newborn who could sit up, let alone herd cattle.

It’d be pretty cool though, I have to admit.

But it did get one thing right: Apollo was pissed. And I did have to give him my favorite lute in return for not getting thrown off Olympus. So there’s that.

Ever since, it feels like I’ve been living that down. Every time I do something the council doesn’t like, Zeus rolls his eyes and brings it up again, while Apollo sits there smugly. I don’t know what they expect—I’m just doing my job, exactly like all the others. No need for them to act all high and mighty and ignore me.

But this time, I admit I deserved it. I sat in the otherwise empty throne room of Olympus, throwing a ball against the wall and catching it as it flew past me. Nothing much happened in the throne room without the council present, but it was never completely abandoned for this long, and I knew exactly why.