I picked up my most recent read off the side table and opened it—tales of Greek mythology, some of my favorites, all under one cover.

The story of Perseus and Medusa was the first I opened to. Len was twiddling with rings on her fingers but stopped the moment she heard my voice.

I started reading, all too aware of her keen focus on me. Usually, I read in private, enjoying my time alone with the stories and information I consumed, but I didn’t mind sharing this with Len.

My arm outstretched without thinking to pull her closer. Without looking up, I knew she was watching me, rather than the book in my hands, taking in every word from my mouth.

“I love this story,” I murmured, pausing as I turned the page.

“Why?” Len asked. Her head fell to my shoulder, and I felt the warmth of her skin against my exposed arm.

“Because Perseus never choose to be a hero out of ambition or chasing glory. He was trapped into an impossible situation. No matter what, though, he persevered. He fought against the impossible and came out on top. He’s a lot like you,” I finished.

She laughed. “I’m a coward,” she scoffed. “I’m no hero out of Greek mythology.”

“I’m serious. I know you didn’t choose this,” I started. “But everything you have done has brought us one step closer to finding justice for those victims. That to me, Lenny Calder, is bravery.”

I could feel her shaking subsiding the longer she leaned in to me. My own heart rate slowed, the anxiety of not knowing how to fix the situation slowly fading.

I did the one thing I knew best.

Reading.

Books were always a welcomed distraction. It didn’t matter what it was—I would read it. The classics were my comfort, but I would never turn down the opportunity to learn more. It was like an addiction, but one I could at least justify.

And Lenny absorbed every single word of the story. We sat like that for what felt like forever, me reading as her body melted further against me. Eventually, I found her trying to adjust to get more comfortable.

“Lay down,” I instructed.

“What?” she asked, her cheeks warming and her eyes avoiding mine.

“Rest,” I instructed. “It’s been a long day.”

Nothing more. Just rest. 

She slowly sank into the couch, kicking her feet up and laying down. My lap became her pillow, and her warm brown curls spilled over my legs. I held the book with one hand and let my other fall to her head, stroking her hair gently, careful not to mess up each curl.

Each page I turned, I glimpsed down to check on her. Minutes turned to an hour, and soon, her eyes were fluttering shut. I kept going with multiple stories of heroes and goddesses, all with a new lesson learned.