Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

ARES

Living like kings can come with a ransom. Every time we rode on that helicopter, we were rolling the dice. You can’t soar with eagles, fly too close to the sun, and not have your wings eventually melt.

My eyelashes act as binds, preventing me from opening my eyes. Molten fire seems to ooze down my throat with every swallow. I hear beeping, machines humming, and distant voices I recognize and also ones I don’t.

Someone squeezes my hand. “It’s okay. Take your time. We’re here.”

Not caring if I rip every eyelash off, I pry my eyes open and see hazy images of people towering over me, around me, swarming me. I blink away the fog and notice my brother’s wife sitting to my left, holding my hand.

Why is Daphne holding my hand?

“Give the man some goddamn space,” I hear my father’s voice command.

I see the hazy figures step back as if the seas are parting, but Daphne only squeezes my hand harder and remains in place. A bold move to go against an order of my father’s.

“Where am I?” I somehow croak, realizing I’m laying in a bed and my body doesn’t want to move. It’s screaming at me as I try to sit, demanding I stay in place.

“You and your brother got into an accident,” Daphne says, pushing against my chest so I have no choice but to lay back down and stop trying to fight the gravity that weighs heavier than normal. “The helicopter went down. You’re in the hospital, but they say you’re going to be just fine.”

My vision is clearing enough that I can see the worry on her face as she rubs my arm with the free hand that isn’t holding my other. I’m not sure why she’s touching me in such a way, but I’m uncomfortable with it. She’s my brother’s wife, and this feels more than just how a sister-in-law would comfort her family member. When I pull my hand free from hers, I see a flicker of…pain? She places her hands into her lap, looks down at her feet, scoots her chair back, does what my father first asked, and gives me some space.

My father approaches the bed. “You’re lucky to be alive, son.”

I suppose I am alive, even though my body still questions that fact. Everything fucking hurts.

“The helicopter crashed?” I ask, not being able to remember it doing so.

“It looks like you flew into some weather coming back from the island,” my father says.

I blink the last of the fog away and scan the room. Athena is leaning against the wall, appearing cool and collected, but I know my sister. The dark circles under her eyes, and the way she chews her bottom lip, tells me she’s been worried; maybe still is. The nurse is checking the machines, and writing something down on a clipboard, and the doctor has just left the room as I only see his back before the door closes.

“Where’s my brother?”

No one answers, but they all dart their eyes from one another. Apollo was in the chopper with me. If it went down, then he did too.

“He didn’t make it,” my father finally says, not even pausing to ease into the icy cold water of truth.

Daphne scoots her chair back to my side and touches my arm as she says in a much softer tone than my father, “He died in the accident.”

Oh, Jesus… That explains the pain in Daphne’s eyes. The reason she’s touching me for comfort. She just lost her husband?—

My brother…

My brother…

Oh god no. Apollo? This can’t be?—

No.

I try to sit up to hunt him down and prove this is all a mistake, but the tidal wave of shock and grief is paralyzing me. My heart breaks into a million pieces, and I can’t even fall apart and cry since everyone is staring at me. Everyone is watching my every fucking move. Godwins don’t cry. We only show one emotion—rage.

This is all a mistake. This is me being drugged. I’m hearing this wrong. I’m hallucinating. I’m in purgatory between hell and heaven, and this is somehow a test. This is wrong. Wrong!

“Prepare for a crash landing,” the pilot shouts over his shoulder at us.

Apollo looks out the window at the water below and then back at me. I don’t see fear. I see acceptance.

“Fuck,” I say, scanning the area for land that doesn’t exist. The helicopter is going to crash on water. It’s going to hit and sink and we’re going to fucking die.

Apollo reaches out and takes my hand. He gives a knowing nod and squeezes. “See you on the other side, brother.”

My body shakes as the memory of the helicopter crash starts coming back to me. My father bends down, his face close enough that I clearly see his eyes. “ Ares died, but you survived. There’s a reason, son. Ares is no longer with us, but you are.”

I don’t know if it’s the ringing in my ears or the pounding of my heart. But his words aren’t making sense. Did he just say Ares is dead?

I’m here.

Or at least I think I’m here.

I’m not dead.

I wiggle my toes, and I inhale deeply just to prove to myself that I am indeed laying in this hospital bed.

“Both Ares and the pilot didn’t make it. The rescuers pulled both of their bodies from the wreckage shortly after your rescue. You somehow got free and floated long enough for help to arrive,” my father continues.

“I don’t understand,” I begin.

Daphne takes my hand again. “You have some minor injuries. Some cuts and bruises. You do have a head wound, and you’ve been unconscious for a few days. The doctors were hopeful you’d wake up, but they said confusion and memory loss could be a side effect. So, it’s okay to feel this way. ”

Confused? Memory loss? This has nothing to do with my head injury. My fucking father is telling me I’m dead when I’m alive. They’re telling me my brother is dead but?—

“Apollo?” my father says. “Did you hear Daphne? You’re going to struggle with memories. You may have some confusion. But you came out of this alive.”

“My brother?—”

My father pats my arm, an unusual sign of affection. “He’s dead, son. He didn’t make it. Ares is dead.”

Athena, who hasn’t said a word since I woke up, turns on her heels and goes to leave the room. “I’m going to have the doctor come back and take a look at him.” She doesn’t wait for anyone to say anything and leaves.

“Daphne,” my father says, “make sure Athena doesn’t tear down the nurses’ station or hurricane her way around out there. I’d like a moment with my son.”

Daphne, with tears in her eyes, stands from her chair and does what he asks without argument.

When the door closes, my father turns his attention on me. “I know you’re feeling a lot of different emotions right now.”

“I’m not Apollo.” I rasp the words out, knowing this news has to come as a shock to my father. He thought one son survived the crash, and the other died. He got it wrong. It’s backwards. “I’m Ares.”

“No, you are Apollo,” he says firmly.

When I go to shake my head, he cuts me off.

“You listen to me. I will not lose one son to death and the other to prison. So you are going to grieve your brother however you choose, but then accept the fact that you are now him. You are not Ares anymore. You are Apollo.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” My head spins, and I suddenly want to go back into the coma I was in.

“Everyone—including the authorities—believes Ares died in that crash. They believe you died, and your brother lived. I don’t know why you were wearing his clothing, or why you had his identification on you, but you did. So as of right now, everyone believes that the man who was going to spend the rest of his life in jail is now dead. But Apollo, the strait-laced, good Godwin son, somehow survived. You are now that son.”

“They all think I died? Everyone?”

He takes a calming breath. My father doesn’t like to repeat himself, and he has zero patience for anyone, but he is once again acting uncharacteristic and repeats, “Focus on what I’m saying. You and I are the only ones who know Apollo was the one who died. But the world believes Ares died. We will not allow Apollo to die in vain. If we can use his name and identity, then we will.”

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and try to shake off the drugs, or the brain damage, or whatever is making my father’s words seem unreal.

“When they brought you in to the hospital, you were in your brother’s clothes. You had his wallet and passport. There was no reason for anyone to think you weren’t Apollo. And at first, I even believed you were him until I noticed your pinky finger.”

My eyes open and lower to my crooked pinky on my left hand that resulted from an injury as a child that never healed properly. I had broken my finger playing rough with my brother and my father had told me to man up rather than letting me splint it or set the bone back into place. So, it was the only part of me that was slightly different than Apollo. It would take a father’s eye to notice. Not to mention the fact no one can pull anything over on Troy Godwin for long.

My father continues with, “There was no reason for me to correct anyone on the assumption that you weren’t Apollo. Why? What good would that do? They’d only let you recover long enough to send you to prison for the rest of your life. But,” he gives me a wicked grin, “if you rise from the ashes like a motherfucking phoenix and become Apollo, then you are a free man forever.”

Grief from losing his favorite son must have made him lose his goddamn mind. “I can’t just be…my brother.”

“You can. You will. There is no other choice unless you want them to come into this room and handcuff you to the bed.”

“I feel like I’m going to puke,” I say, closing my eyes, not being able to process his words.

“It’s a lot. But you and I both know that Apollo would want you to do this. He wouldn’t want you to go to jail for…for what he did.”

“I can’t do this. It’s so fucked up.” I’ve never gone against an order of my father’s. When he says jump, I’ve only strived to jump the highest of them all. But this request… “This can’t be real.”

I open my eyes as my father leans even closer to me. “Your sister and your wife are about to come in here. You are going to morph into this new identity. You are going to be reborn, son. This is your second chance at life, and you sure as fuck will not turn it down because you suddenly have morals.”

“You want me to lie to everyone? To lie to our family?” I pause and think about the poor woman who was holding my hand, thinking I was Apollo. “You want me to have Daphne believe I’m her dead husband?”

His eyes and the firmness in his jaw answers this question for me. “You know your brother better than anyone. You can do this. And you always have the head injury to fall back on if you come across a situation you don’t know how to handle or get asked a question you aren’t sure how to answer. You’ll fake amnesia if it means you’re no longer going to prison.”

His words are sinking in. “You want me to go to his house, his bed—Jesus fucking Christ. He has a wife. Am I supposed to just?—”

“Fuck her. Yes. Their marriage is shit, by the way,” my father interrupts. “So fix that. You are going to need Daphne by your side to help you with this ruse. And besides… Godwins don’t divorce.”

“This is insanity.”

My father stands to full attention. His shoulders are back; his spine is stiff. “From this moment on, you are Apollo Godwin. Ares is dead. The name Ares is dead, and I will never call you by that name again. You will not respond to that name ever. Apollo,” he dictates. “Apollo Godwin.”

He’s serious. This is serious. My father wants me to become my twin brother. He wants me to embrace this mistaken identity. He feels this is my only choice unless I want to be locked in a cage forever.

And fuck me… He’s right.