"God, my parents just fell in love with Grace today." Bree smiled at Percy from the passenger seat. "She's such a sweet kid."
Percy glanced in the rearview mirror, to where Grace was sleeping in her car seat. "When she wants to be," he said wryly.
Grace had done better at Bree's brother's engagement picnic than he'd hoped. She'd clung to him initially, as he'd expected, but had slowly warmed to the other guests, charming everyone with her feisty spirit and the fairy wings she still wouldn't take off.
"And it seems like she's liking me more," Bree continued. "But girl sure can play hard to get."
Percy smiled. "She'll get there."
"Honestly, she liked my mom, my brother, and my aunt more than me."
Percy focused on changing lanes. It was a little strange that Grace had maintained a distance only to Bree; she was too young to understand the situation, and all she'd been told was that Bree was Percy's friend—just like everyone else at the party. It was as though Grace had an innate sense that things were not entirely to her liking.
Percy sighed, and changed the subject, asking instead about Bree's work.
When they reached his apartment, a question hung in the air. Bree had left her purse there, which was why Percy hadn't driven her home. She lived in the opposite direction, and he knew she'd be willing to grab her things and catch a taxi. She never stayed the night when Grace was there; she'd never even been over when Grace was there.
But she'd also only just met Grace the day before. The rules were shifting. He knew it was up to him to set them, to enforce them, to figure out what was the best thing for Grace first, and then for everyone else, too. Just trying to sort it all out gave him a massive headache, more often than not.
He carried Grace up to the apartment, Bree following quietly. He could feel the long day; everyone was tired. It felt weird to ask Bree to leave—it was already dark out, taxis were expensive, and Grace was already asleep, anyway. Could it really hurt to let her stay? She'd understand if he didn't, but…would she?
"Look," Percy said after putting Grace down. "Why don't just you stay? It's getting pretty late."
Bree's eyes widened, and then her face burst into a wide smile, which she quickly tried to hold back. "Really? Are you sure that's—"
"Yeah. It's cool." Percy turned toward the sink, already half-regretting it. What about the morning? And sometimes Grace had nightmares and came to find him in the night—would it be barbaric to ask Bree to sleep on the couch?
Fuck.
Bree was already settling in, going to the fridge and popping the top off two beers, bringing him one. She propped herself up on the counter, facing him, her long hair hanging over her shoulder and tickling his arm.
"I loved having you there, with my family today." She said with an adorable smile. "It meant so much to me. They love you, you know."
Percy tried to ignore his stress. "It was a good day."
Bree ran a hand up his arm. He wasn't fooling her. She pulled him closer, tracing his ear. "Hey, hey. Everything's good. You need to relax." She tilted her chin up and kissed him, and then kissed his jaw, continuing down his neck. "Let me help you," she murmured, running her hands up under his shirt.
Percy shuddered, feeling a familiar burn in his abdomen, but he pulled away, gently taking her hands off him. "Not tonight," he said quietly. "Not with Gracie here."
Bree swallowed, her neck flushing slightly. He could tell he'd hurt her feelings.
"Hey," he said, kissing her temple. "I'm glad you're here."
The words sounded hollow to his own ears; he wondered if she could sense the lie.
She just nodded and took a long drink. "It's okay." She said quietly. "I get it."
He moved to lean against the counter beside her, taking a drink also and not saying anything.
Bree was a third generation demigod. Her great-grandmother was Demeter. She didn't have any powers, but she could usually see through the mist, and she'd been raised knowing about Olympus and the gods. One foot in, one foot out. It was a unique position to be in, not unlike how it had been for Rachel Dare. They'd met through mutual friends; he'd noticed her because she'd rolled her eyes when someone made a comment about him being the most powerful demigod of their generation.
Percy glanced at the clock and ran a hand through his hair; he wasn't sure why he was suddenly in a bad mood. Except that he didn't know how he was going to handle the next morning, or the following few days that he had Gracie, now he was no longer keeping her and Bree separate—which also hadn't even been his choice, running into her and Annabeth in the street hadn't exactly been—
His thoughts were interrupted by his phone buzzing sharply on the counter between him and Bree.
It was a text; they both saw the screen at the same time. Annabeth.
He grabbed the phone and took a step away without thinking, tapping to read the message.
Sorry for not taking Gracie tonight. And being a bitch about it. You've done it for me, and I should have helped out.
Then,
I want us to stay on good terms. For Gracie. I think it's important. Sorry.
Percy frowned at the screen. This sort of thing was unusual. Annabeth texting him for anything besides logistical details (running late, or, don't forget she's doing an earlier bedtime), Annabeth apologizing…
His first instinct was to wonder if she was alright; should he call and check? His second was that maybe, probably, she'd had a couple drinks.
It had been ages and ages since either of them had had too much and called the other one, crying or saying things they later extremely regretted; sending a text at three in the morning saying any manner of things. I'm sorry I miss you I love you I hate you I need you. The same sentiments all twisted together with burning words.
Bree cleared her throat. "So, what did she want?"
She didn't usually ask about Annabeth; if Percy was communicating with her when he was with Bree, Bree kept her distance, assuming and respecting that it was about Gracie.
Percy hesitated, feeling distracted. "Uh, she was just checking on Grace." He shoved the phone in his pocket, making a mental note to answer.
Bree toyed with her bracelet. "Does she hate me?"
Percy's eyebrows went up. "Uh…" She has no idea you're here right now, if that's what you're asking.
"I mean, the way that she looked at me yesterday…" Bree looked at him. "What have you said to her?"
"Well, I haven't exactly had a chance—she doesn't know anything about you. She's just—"
"Daddy?"
Percy wheeled around at the small voice in the doorway. Gracie was standing there in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes, a halo of tangled curls in her face.
Bree had jumped too. She shoved her beer behind her back, which would've been kind of hilarious, if Percy hadn't wished he too could shove Bree behind his own back.
"Hey, sweetie." Percy knelt in front of the toddler. "Are you okay? What are you doing out of bed?"
"Why is she here?" Gracie's voice was loud, confused and sleepy. She was staring at Bree, who blushed and slid off the counter, and then seemed unsure what to do.
"She's our friend, remember? She's gonna hang out here, tonight." Percy held out his arms. "Ready to come back to bed with me?"
Grace considered this, looking from Bree to Percy. "Water," she said finally. "I'm thirsty."
Bree tried to be helpful and fill a cup from the shelf, but it wasn't the right cup, with the green dinosaurs—not even the pink cup with the dancing giraffes—and then Grace interjected and said that daddy had to do it, and finally, when it was all worked out, Percy carried her back to bed. It took a while to get her to sleep; three read-throughs of Where The Wild Things Are, starting over when she accused Percy of skipping pages.
And finally, finally, he returned to the kitchen where Bree was waiting.
He went to the cupboard and started replacing the rejected cups, when he realized Bree was watching him from her renewed counter perch. "What?"
Bree tucked her hair behind her ear, her eyes soft. "You're a really, really great dad."
Percy snorted, going back to the shelf. "Gods, that used to piss Annabeth off so much. People saying that when I would, like, push a stroller."
It was true; Annabeth had bent over backward to be a good parent—and she had been, she still was—and she'd still gotten shit for things like having a career. Not to mention giving Grace bottles, using a crib, vaccinating… No one ever said a word of praise to her. Percy, on the other hand, was lauded with approval for simply being seen interacting with his kid.
It wasn't something he might've noticed, if Annabeth hadn't ranted, and sometimes screamed, about it. And back then, he hadn't really listened. He knew that. He'd told her she was exaggerating, to calm down, that she just wanted to find fault with everything. In truth, he had, at times, been one of the people giving her shit about working full time. Not blatantly, but—he knew he'd often made it harder instead of easier.
He exhaled loudly, shutting the cupboard harder than was necessary.
Bree had gone silent. He glanced at her, feeling a little guilty. "Thanks, though."
She didn't answer. He leaned against the opposite counter and took out his phone, looking again at the texts from Annabeth. After a long moment, he wrote back:
You don't need to be sorry, Annabeth. You have a life too—I get that. We're fine.
He paused. Somehow, he wasn't eager to learn how she'd respond once she knew he'd handled it by bringing Grace to the party with him. Bree's family's party.
Have a nice night.
He watched the screen, but she didn't respond; at least not right away. He sighed again, looking up and staring at the wall, unseeing.
"Do you want me to leave?"
Bree's voice was quiet from across the room.
Percy jumped. "What?"
Bree slid off the counter, her face subdued. "Well, you asked me to stay, but I don't think you want me here. I can see that you're stressed. It's okay." Her tone implied that it was not okay, at all.
Percy was in front of her in two seconds. "What are you talking about? Look at me—I don't want you to go anywhere. I'm sorry."
He brushed her hair away from her face. Her bambi-eyes were staring at him, uncertain. "I'm an asshole. I was just distracted." He kissed her forehead, her lips. "Don't go."
And so she didn't.
…
Before.
.
.
"Hey. It's me."
Percy's voice was low in his dark, empty apartment—his brand new, empty bachelor pad that was completely devoid of furniture or people or hope, despite the fact he'd been living there for weeks.
He was slumped against the wall in the empty living room, surrounded by inky black windows; he would have pulled the shades down against the night, but he didn't have any yet.
His phone was against one ear, his other hand pressed up to the bridge of his nose. He wondered if she'd be able to smell the alcohol through the phone. She could do things like that, he sometimes thought. She had more magic powers than any other person in the world.
"Listen. Annabeth." He inhaled, voice rough. "I'm sorry about what I said yesterday. We shouldn't…I can't…" He paused. Gods, he was such a dumbass. "We went wrong somewhere. We got off track. Gods, I…" He pulled at his hair, his voice uneven. She'll know it's just the alcohol. She says you don't talk like this when you're sober. "I mean it. Baby...don't sign the papers, okay? We can do this. We can work on this. I love you. I…I'm gonna change, okay? We can…we can change." He took a deep, shaky breath. "You looked so beautiful yesterday—I didn't tell you that, and I never tell you that, but it's all I can…" Fuck, fuck, fuck. "Just…don't do this. Let's not do this. I love you. I—" The voicemail cut off.
Fuck.
Just as he was contemplating throwing the phone threw the window so he would never have access to it again, it gave a brief, sharp buzz. A voicemail.
"Hey. It's me." Annabeth's voice was clear, calm, and very quiet. "I thought about what you said, Percy. Yesterday. And what I said, too—what we've been saying for weeks, and months, I guess, and not hearing each other. And…" There was a pause. "I want you to know that I hear you, okay? And that I know. I know that…" Her voice trailed off, and there was a slight bit of static. "I know that it's time. I know that we've been ignoring it, and damaging each other, and damaging Gracie, and it's time to let go." There was a long, long silence. "It's time for the next part. Where it doesn't hurt so much. And to see the good parts again, like you said." She cleared her throat, her voice sounding stronger. "I want you to know that I love you. And that it was real."
There was so much silence that he thought it was over—just blank staticky dead air, waiting for the cutoff. Then, "It's on the mat, okay? I slid the papers under your door, a little while ago. It's signed, Percy. It's done."
And it was; as he rounded the corner to the front door, he saw the official envelope waiting on the doormat. That was the only thing this place had come with; a doormat. It functioned now as a backdrop to the divorce papers, a picture frame to the worst moment of his life.
She'd left her voicemail as he was leaving his—seconds before, seconds after, it didn't matter. Their wires had crossed in midair, and now this was what they had.
This was all there was.
.
.
Now.
…
"Still no monsters?"
"Still no monsters. But she's only three."
"If real powers develop, or monsters become a problem, there will be a place at Camp Half-Blood for her. You know that, right?" Grover's tone was careful.
Percy was silent for a long moment. "Yeah." He didn't say anything else, and Grover didn't bring it up again.
They were leaning against a fence at the edge of a twilit park, watching Gracie play. In a short matter of minutes, Annabeth would show up to collect her. Trading their kid between them like a used, shared car—that was what their life had come to. A stretch of days with his daughter, and then a longer stretch with no one, with nothing—a silent apartment, a cold bed, a series of meals for one.
"You and Bree seem serious." Grover interrupted their silence, looking at Percy for a long moment.
Percy took a long drink of water, staring out at the twilit park where Gracie was playing. "Do we?"
Grover raised an eyebrow. "Okay, well, you tell me, I guess."
Percy exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Sure. I guess we are."
He could feel Grover wanting to say more—the empathy link between them had never entirely faded, but even without it, satyrs could read emotions.
Grover cleared his throat. "Do you think—"
But he never finished. A pair of headlights cut across them, illuminating the deep blue of the early evening.
"Is that—?"
Annabeth emerged from her car, effectively answering Grover's question.
"Hi," she said to both of them, going straight to Grover and giving him a hug. He wrapped her right into his arms, giving her hair a gentle kiss. "Hi."
"Hi," said Percy, leaning back against the fence.
Annabeth stood in front of him, crossing her arms. He did not get a hug.
"Hi." A distinct coolness emanated from her as she stared him down. He could remember when she used to look so—tall to him. Intimidating. Sucking all the air into her own magnetic force and pulling him along with it, giving him whiplash from the whirlwind of long legs authority princess hair badass warrior hot girl powerful demigod. And she was still all of those things; but she no longer seemed tall or daunting or scary, even if she looked that way to others.
All he saw was a twenty-six year old girl who was a head shorter than him, wearing black leggings and a faded grey zip up, her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked thinner than she should, like she could do with a few more meals. Tired, too. And beautiful, a voice said in the back of his mind. Always beautiful.
He raised his eyebrows at her. "Something you'd like to say?"
"Yes, there is something I'd like to say."
Her eyes glinted. "Why didn't you tell me you were bringing Gracie to Bree's party? To meet her entire family?"
Percy just looked at her, uncomprehending. "How did you…?"
Annabeth just shook her head. "I talked to Grace on the phone this morning—remember? She wanted to say good morning to me?" Her voice held disbelief.
"Oh." And he'd been in the shower.
"Oh. Yeah. Oh." Annabeth's eyebrows kept going up. "And while we're on the subject, since when do you have sleepovers with Bree while our daughter is there? You decide that they just met the day before, so—oh, what the hell, time to all move in together? What is that?"
Grover, who had begun edging away at the start of the conversation, now spoke. "Uh, I'm gonna go check on Gracie, I think she was looking sideways at a poisonous mushroom…" He fled.
Annabeth hadn't taken her eyes off Percy. Under her veneer of anger, he could see the main emotion in her eyes, and it wasn't new. Betrayal.
He took a deep breath. "Annabeth, listen. The party—I was in a tight spot, Grace didn't know what was going on. She doesn't expect that she's going to meet all those people again. It was just a barbeque—"
"Actually, she told me all about how 'Aunt Caroline is going to teach her to crochet, and Nathan is going to take her to the zoo." Annabeth's voice was ice cold.
"She's not a piece of glass, Annabeth."
"She's three-fucking-years old. And I don't know these people."
"Well, I'm glad you've come to think so highly of my judgment."
"Oh, yeah. Your excellent judgment in having cozy little sleepovers with your girlfriend, a day after she's met our daughter? What the fuck is Grace supposed to think? Are those really the memories you want our daughter to have—a parade of strangers in her house at night? Women she gets attached to and then they just leave? She needs stability—"
"What women?" Percy stopped trying to keep his voice down. "What parade? There's been one, Annabeth. One girl. And it was fine, okay? It was fine. You can stop projecting your own damaged memories—"
"No." Annabeth cut him off, her voice furious. "Do not do that. This isn't about me. You fucked up, and you should have run it by me—"
"Are you serious right now? Because I tried. I tried to talk to you, and you freaked out." Percy shook his head. "Maybe—maybe it was too soon. I get that. It was a mistake, okay? I didn't plan to have Bree stay. But you can stop putting everything on me, when you're the one who can't even hold a normal conversation—"
"Oh, I can't? What do you think I'm trying to do, right now?"
"Uh, scream at me? Pick another fucking fight?" He looked away into the gathering darkness, frustration mounting in his chest. "Gods, why does this never change? Why are you like this?"
She reeled backward a couple steps, her face darkening. "Gods. Fuck you, Percy. Seriously. Fuck you."
He could hear the distant sound of cars on the highway, of a growing buzzing in his own ears. He knew he needed to stop now; count backwards, walk away, do the breathing. He'd done the work. It was time to go.
But his hands were tingling with a familiar power; the buzzing in his ears was growing to a distant roar. He walked to his car, looking back for a long, final moment. When he spoke, his voice sounded hard and bleak to his own ears.
"I'm so glad you signed those papers."
And he slammed the door shut, feeling only the deafening roar of the tide in his veins, ears, chest—crashing over and breaking everything in its wake, like seawater in a monsoon.
.
.
.
This is not the last chapter! There will be at least one more (I know you've heard that before). Thank you so much for all the response so far!
Please tell me what you think, it means so much to chat with you about the story, or just hear your thoughts. I'll always plug my tumblr, annabeth-in-olympus, since it's the easiest way to talk to me! (But reviews here are wonderful too).