Chapter 1

The innocuous, small-town diner I was parked in front of was the last place I wanted to be. Pressing my forehead against the steering wheel of the car, I took deep breaths and tried to steel myself for the ordeal about to come. Dread and panic pooled in the pit of my stomach until I felt like I was going to be physically ill. After what felt like an eternity of trying and failing to gather my courage, I straightened up, took one last deep breath, and grabbed my cane.

It was time to face this hell like a man. I took a look at the open space around me, observing the green grass, singing birds, and perfect weather that seemed so out of place. I tightened my grip on my cane and hobbled inside, not fully ready to face brunch with my ex-fiance.

I had a box of her things tucked under my right arm and my cane in a stranglehold in my left. It clicked loudly with every step I took, announcing my presence on the tile lined floors of the diner.

I kept my head down and tried to move quickly, embarrassed by the looks I got from people. London had always told me I exaggerated while we'd been dating. That no one cared if I needed a cane and no one stared at me for it, but I never quite believed her. I could always feel the stares prickling the back of my neck.

“Hello?” I said to the high school aged hostess, sifting through something I couldn't see on the podium in front of her. After a moment, she looked up to me with heavily lined eyes.

“Just one?” She popped her gum and looked at me with a blank expression, but I had to try to not wince at the phrase 'just one.' I supposed I would need to get used to it, but, really, what is lonelier sounding than, 'just one.'

“I'm meeting someone.”

“Name?”

“Um, Bora,” I told her, giving her London's surname and hating the sound of it. She would have been 'London Spiros' by now had the wedding actually occurred as it was supposed to.

“This way,” the disinterested hostess said, grabbing a menu and leading me back into the restaurant. I had to fight the urge to stare at my feet as I walked and looked around, trying to keep up my facade of confidence from cracking.

“Hey! There you are, Gabe!” a very loud, very masculine voice called out from behind me. I turned around, ready to snap in annoyance at the mysterious speaker about the shortening of my name. However, when I turned, a large arm was thrown around my shoulder before I got a chance to even see the man's face. “We was starting to think you'd never show!”

I was floating, lost in confusion, trying to figure out who the hell this guy was, before I finally squirmed out from under his arm and got a look at him. He wasn't a man I'd ever planned on seeing again, but apparently the universe had decided it hadn't fucked me enough recently.

“Hi, Brad,” I mumbled, white-knuckling my cane and shifting the box under my arm around “Didn't think you were coming.”

“Of course I came. London thought it might be a bit awkward, what with her leaving you for me and all, but I said to her I got a good nose for character and Gabey wouldn't hold a grudge. I can just tell.” He threw his arm back over my shoulder and started guiding me to the table he and London were seated at.

“Gabriel,” I corrected under my breath as we walked, then raised my voice to question, “Why aren't you sitting with London now, anyways?”

“Had to take a piss, then saw you on the way back. What are the chances man?” He chuckled, completely oblivious to how inappropriate and awkward everything was. Brad was a nice enough guy, I suppose, just completely clueless. In another life, I might have thought he was an okay guy. In this life, my fiance cheated on me with him, then dumped me to date him. So, I'm not exactly lining up to join the Brad Fan Club.

“Hey, Lon!” he called out we approached the red booth in the back corner of the diner. “Look who I found on my way back from the toilet!”

“Nice of you to show up,” she said with ice in her voice, not even glancing up at me.

“Yeah, it was,” I replied, my anger building with her. It was nice of me to show up to have brunch with her and her boyfriend to return all the s**t I'd bought her over years.

She glanced up at me with her gorgeous dark eyes that could entrance me even now. “No need to have an attitude. I'm not the one who showed up half an hour late.”

“And I'm not the one who cheated,” I mumbled too quietly to really be heard and briefly glanced over the menu, searching out the cheapest item. I didn't have much of an appetite or hardly any money, so I needed to eat on a budget. Especially since I didn't really feel like eating in the first place.

We sat in an awkward silence for awhile before I cleared my throat and spoke up:

“I brought your stuff, London.”

“That's nice.”

“So, uh, how have you been.”

“Fine. You?”

“Been better.”

“That's nice.”

I glanced around, trying to avoid looking at London, who was sitting flush against Brad with his arm thrown over her shoulder.

We went back to our uncomfortable silence, before I started scooting over in the booth to stand and spoke. “Well, um, maybe I should go. Your stuff's sitting on the booth and I'll just let you guys enjoy yourselves-”

“Don't be a drama queen,” London told me, pushing her long hair over her shoulder. “We're all adults and can handle a nice meal together.”

I sat back down and tried to make myself relax, although I was anything but relaxed. I could feel my heart beating and hear the blood rushing through my head. My face was hot and my stomach was twisted in so many knots I was afraid I might get sick.

My fingers were tapping against the table nervously, although I didn't notice, and I continued holding the handle of my cane even though I usually laid it down when I sat. There was something comforting about having the handle to hold onto, and when I got nervous I had trouble laying it down.

I caught myself staring at London. She truly was gorgeous. Her dark skin had a healthy glow to it, her long straight hair shined in the light, and her eyes were as deep and beautiful as they were the first day I met her. She held herself with the utmost confidence that I couldn't help but envy

The meal was an awkward affair filled with long silences, uncomfortable conversation, and Brad being oblivious to it all.

I thanked my mother's god when it was finally over and I was allowed to leave and raced home, holding the steering while in a vice grip to keep my hands from shaking.

Home wasn't much better than being out. While I enjoy privacy, my apartment was full of bad memories and constantly reminded me of everything I'd lost. The education that I'd thrown away. Any chance of a future I could be happy with. The girl of my dreams. Everything. I was alone and I couldn't picture a world where I'd be anything but.

With these thoughts bombarding me, I shakily opened up my door and glanced at the clock. One in the afternoon. Usually too early for a drink, but I felt I could afford myself one this time. I quickly threw back my first beer while sitting on the couch and watching some stupid show, before downing a second. It was nasty weak tasting stuff, but it had alcohol and that's all I really cared about.

Halfway through my third, the doorbell rang. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the back of the couch, hoping whoever was knocking at my door would just go away. It rang again and this time someone pounded at the wood of the door.

“F**k off!” I yelled so they could hear. “Whatever you're sellin', I don't want it.” I prayed it was a child, or, worse, my mother, but also really didn't give a damn about whoever was at my door. I wanted to be left alone to wallow in the sad remains of my life.

More rapid, hard knocking and doorbell ringing. I sighed deeply and grabbed my cane, stomping over to the door the best I could with a gimp foot and slammed the door open.

“What don't you get about f**k off?” I asked the man standing in the doorway. He was a short, rather petite guy with dark hair and bright eyes. Something about him screamed authority and that he wasn't someone to messed with, but I had nothing left to lose and ignored the voice in my head telling me to be respectful to this powerful man.

“Lose the attitude kid,” he snapped angrily at me.

“Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

“I have a message.”

“That's nice,” I told him, starting to close the door. “Use the post office next time.” and with that I slammed the door in the little guy's face. Maybe it wasn't right to take my anger out on him, but I didn't care. I was pissed. I was hurt. I wanted to just be left alone for awhile.

I turned and began hobbling back to my chair, when I heard a loud snapping sound and the guy from outside the door was standing in front of me. He was short, but in that moment, when he appeared out of thin air, he seemed to tower over me in magnificent anger.

“I don't care who the hell you think you are, human,” he raged, his voice roaring and echoing throughout the small apartment, “you will listen to me. I am Hermes, messenger of the gods, and I have a message for you.”