Page 65 of Rebel Hawke

The pain.

The helplessness.

The feeling of loss, not only of my sole living parent but also of whatwasmy life.

For a second time in six months, what I thought I knew had been ripped away from me. My world spun a one-eighty.

I didn’t know what way was up or down or what my future looked like.

Atlas is quiet for a moment, holding me tightly, but I can feel the shift in his demeanor, the way he moves under me, pulls me even closer. Needing it as much as I do in this moment.

“Nurse Martha got me through that, all those months in the hospital. Her words kept me going, and eventually, it got better. When anything was hard after, like going back to school and having people stare at me and my scars, I always tried to remember her advice.”

“What happened when you got out of the hospital?” Atlas presses his lips to my temple. “Why didn’t you come back here to live with your grandfather?”

I entwine my fingers with his and squeeze. “My paternal grandmother lived in town. We spent quite a bit of time at her place during the months I was there prior to the fire. She was at the hospital with me every day, and I ended up staying with her. I guess I could have asked to come back, especially when Gramps came to see me and expressed his desire to bring me to New Orleans. I thought about it. But…”

Even after all this time, I can’t say the words, can’t admit them to him, not knowing what it will do and how he’ll react.

Atlas has experienced something awful.

He’s still reeling from his own trauma.

And he doesn’t need the guilt of knowing he played a role in my decision to stay in Texas.

I try to pull away from him, but he grasps me and shifts me back so I have to face him, taking my cheek in his rough palm.

Warm blue eyes that hold nothing but affection meet mine, trying to break through the wall I’m putting up. “Little Bird…why didn’t you want to come back?”

ATLAS

I sense her hesitation,feel the rigidity in her thin frame pressed against me, can see that she doesn’t want to answer my question and wants to escape before she has to.

But I’m not about to let her hide from me or avoid answering.

Not about something this important.

“Wren, please. Why didn’t you want to come back?”

A single tear slips from her eye, trickling down her cheek to my thumb. “Because I didn’t want you to see me like that. Like this…I didn’t want—”

She chokes on a little half-sob, and I drag her back against me, burying my face in her hair.

“Jesus, Wren.” I press a kiss to her forehead, my soul shattering at her words. Knowing she didn’t want me to see her like this, that she thought it would matter inanyway. “You should have come home.”

We missed so much time.

So many years that we could have spent together—whether as friends or something more.

Everything would have been so different.

Better…

Wren hiccups a little sigh. “I wish I would have, too. Things with my grandmother weren’t great. She tried to be there for me in the hospital, but she wasn’t a warm woman. I think she blamed me for my father’s relapse and death. She never came right out and said it, but I felt it. She thought I wouldn’t do anything with my life after the fire because of the way I looked.So…”—she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly—“I set out to prove her wrong.”

I squeeze her tightly, so badly wanting to take away all the pain I hear in her words, even if it was things she felt as a child. “You did. Your studio is beautiful. It’s going to do incredible.”

“I hope so.” She pushes away from me and shifts on my lap to straddle and face me, looping her arms around my neck. “But this isn’t about me, Atlas. I didn’t tell you for your sympathy. This is aboutyou.” She rubs the back of my neck slowly, deep sweeping circles that elicit a little groan from deep in my chest. “I know it’s hard to come home and do this every night after you’ve already trained with Gramps. But you’ve been through the worst day of your life. What I do to you is going to be nothing compared to that, right?”

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