Page 56 of Rebel Hawke

“You were eight.”

A quick grin tilts his lips. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t know it.”

He steps back, walks over to an end table next to the couch, lifts up a book, and slowly pulls something from between the pages. The way he moves—so effortlessly, so confidently—has my body heating again, even though the topic of conversation has been anything but warm and fuzzy.

Atlas returns and sets the small white square on the counter in front of me.

My breath catches in my throat. “Is that—”

I don’t know why I’m asking because I can see exactly what it is…

The Polaroid they took of us on our “wedding” day over twenty years ago.

A vise tightens around my chest at seeing Atlas in that little tux and me by his side, in the pristine white dress, staring up at him with so much affection in my eyes even then. “You kept it.”

He slides his fingers under my chin and tips my face up until my tear-soaked eyes meet his. “I kept it. And I’m keeping you.”

9

WREN

Every time Atlas lands a punch on the bag, I flinch, and a familiar cold sense of dread settles over me.

It has nothing to do with what happened yesterday in the studio with Satriano or the things Atlas explained to me this morning about the threat the man poses and haseverythingto do with the way I see Atlas’ whole body stiffen and jaw tighten each time.

He fights so hard to hide the pain and conceal what a fairly typical training session is doing to him, when he should be able to work through it easily in his sleep. Just like I’m sure he has been since the day he came back to the gym.

Everyone else may pretend not to see it, but I can’t ignore what I know he’s feeling.

Because I’ve been there.

Battling the agony.

Putting on a brave face.

Trying to get back to that feeling ofbefore.

For so long, I never thought it was possible. I truly believed I’d never find the joy I felt before the fire. Years spent searching for it were in vain.

Until last night.

Until Atlas…

And seeing him in the exact same position I was after the flames took too much from me brings me right back to that same pain, that feeling that I’ll never get back what was stolen from me so violently.

I reach up to rub at the ache forming in the center of my chest as Atlas lands another combination that makes him grit his teeth.

Bishop bumps me with her shoulder, and I jerk and spin toward her, hand slapped over my heart…which now beats wildly under my ribcage.

Shit.

She scared the crap out of me.

Her brown eyes widen. “You all right?” She reaches back and unties the bun of braids at the back of her head to let them spill down her shoulders. Shaking them out, she releases a little laugh. “You’re jumpy as hell this morning.”

Crap.

Seems I’ve done a really awful job of covering my unsteady nerves today.

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