Page 21 of Hero Worship

“You gotshot atless than twelve hours ago, and we still have no idea who did it. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“It’s right there.” I point across the living room. “Don’t worry. I think I can survive the trip.”

I’ve shut the door of the studio behind me and slumped against it when my phone buzzes again.Artemis,the screen reads.

“I can’t do this,” I tell her the second the call connects. “I. Cannot. Do. This.”

“Oh myGod, Daisy! You can’t get shot at, either! Why didn’t you call me?”

“I was asleep. I just woke up. AndHerculesis here,” I hiss into the phone. “Your father sentHerculesto guard me.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” she whispers back, though there’s probably no need. “He’s really good at guarding people. That’s what he does. And yougot shot at.”

“Says the girl who once shot an arrow at Apollo? I’m fine. They didn’t hit me.”

“Daisy. Jesus. You could move home, you know, and then you’d be safer and Hercules wouldn’t have to be your in-house bodyguard.”

“No.” I’m way too sharp about it. “Artemis—sorry.Sorry.Don’t listen to me. I’m tired.”

“I get it, but I’m worried about you. And I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” I want to tell her everything. I want to stop keeping secrets. I can’t find the words. “Please don’t worry. I’m fine. But I can’t move back there, Artemis.”

“But…why?”

“Ican’t.”

“I know, you’re forging your own path or whatever, but you couldvisit. You could at least come home until they figure out who was trying to shoot you.”

“Please. My dad wouldn’t let me leave a second time.Thisis my home now.”

It’s…my house, at least.

I can never go home again.

4

HERCULES

The doorto Daisy’s studio closes, and I push the plate out of the way and bang my head against the kitchen island.

This is torture.

Looking at her in her soft clothes is torture.

Notstaring at her ass while she cooked me scrambled egg sandwiches is even worse torture.

Shutting herself in the studio, where I can’t see her, is an act of war.

I’m only allowing it because I cleared the entire house this morning before I went to sit on the porch with my phone like a fucking stalker. I exchanged a brisk wave with Shane, who texted me from the gatehouse—no updates. Checking the app to see if Daisy had woken up felt like cheating. I did it exactly once. The breathing pattern of the wave changes when she’s closer to waking up.

Which is nothing compared to watching her actually breathe.

I have been to war. I have been to fuckingwar.I have been dropped into hostile territory all over the planet, and I’m not going to lose my shit over a girl.

Especially notthisgirl.

I pick up my head like the professional I am and resume eating the scrambled egg sandwich. On the tablet, I tap out a left-handed message to Shane about the art-scene people Daisy mentioned, then go about researching them myself.

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