Page 23 of At Odds with the Gods

He wrapped an arm around Gany’s waist and moved them both aside to reveal Sir, Bear, and Ozzie, shoulder to shoulder again, fangs bared and slavering, growls vibrating in their throats, steadily gaining volume until they sounded like a trio of industrial stand mixers.

Artemis stumbled down the porch steps, but stopped in the middle of the flagstone path, glaring up at them. “Just you wait, Ganymede. You’ll see. I’ll beat them all to the top.” She turned and stalked away, the ponytail tucked through her snapback swinging.

“Man,” Finn said, “she’s almost as buff as that guy from the bakery. Are all your friends this jacked?”

“They’re not my friends,” Gany mumbled. “They’re pains in my ass.”

“No shit.” Finn shook his head. “Not if they can’t even get your name right.”

Gany buried a wince, but to sidestep the wholeGanymedeissue, he turned to the dogs, who were now sitting side by side, tongues lolling, as they blocked the door. He propped his fists on his hips.

“Andyouare supposed to keep them out, or at least warn a guy.”

All three dogs hung their heads and dropped, belly-crawling to cower behind Finn’s legs—a neat trick, considering their size and that the porch wasn’tthatbig.

“Shit,” Finn said, running both hands through his hair, which, weirdly, seemed about an inch longer than it did when Gany left him in the yard twenty minutes ago. But that was ridiculous, so probably it had just escaped whatever product Finn used to keep his waves tamed. “I’m so sorry, Gary. I distracted them. We were playing in the backyard, and they got so involved in chasing m— the balls, that I don’t even think they heard the doorbell.”

Gany studied the dogs, frowning. The doorbell should have been irrelevant. They should have detected the presence of a god within a hundred yards. “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Hear the doorbell?”

Finn cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “It… Yeah, that was it.”

Gany crossed his arms. “Finn.”

Finn blew out a breath and let his hand fall to his side. “Okay, fine. I just felt like… you were afraid.”

Gany blinked. “You did?”

“Yeah. It’s… well, kind of a thing in my, er, family.”

“Empathy?”

He brightened, almost as though he were grasping at an explanation that wasn’t precisely true, but was at least believable. Gany knew all about that, since his earthside arrival required frequent misdirection and vaguesplaining, too.

“Yeah,” Finn said. “Empathy. That.”

While there was obviously more to it, Gany decided to let it pass for now as they all returned inside. Finn scowled as he threw the deadbolt, almost as though he were blaming the door for not keeping Gany safe.

That level of care was… disquieting. Nobody had ever tried to keep him safe, including his own father. Zeus hadn’t been concerned with Gany’ssafety, and certainly not his happiness, only with his presence, because with Zeus, it was all aboutpossession, not about consideration.

Disquieting but also… endearing, that Finn would worry about Gany’s well-being when he clearly had his own raft of problems.

Finn laced his fingers with Gany’s. “So. Got the cake deets nailed down?”

“Cake?” Gany’s stomach jolted. “Gods! The cake.”Thatwas why he couldn’t press Finn for more answers now. He had acaketo bake. In a day and a half.

He let go of Finn’s hands and hurried over to the counter where he’d left his sketches and notes. He held up the pad. “What do you think?”

Finn studied it, head tilted to one side like one of the pups, and he scratched his nose. “Do those divots represent some kind of decoration?”

Gany glanced at the sketch, at the dents he’d jammed into the paper when he’d been stewing about his and Finn’s future. “Oh. No. I was just, you know, brainstorming.”

“I’m not so sure,” Finn said slowly. He traced a path on the sketch with one finger. “It looks kind of like a bird. Or a flight of them. See?” He traced the path again and Gany’s eyebrows rose. “Aren’t doves a thing with weddings?”

“Not doves,” Gany said, certainty settling in his middle. “A swan.”

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