Page 70 of The Oath We Take

“Did you build this place?” I ask in awe.

Atom stands and nods. “I’ve been building this place for about three years. Winter is great because I can ride out here on the snowmobile and tow multiple sleds behind it with supplies. It’s faster than by horse, and smoother. I balanced the sofa across two sleds, then drove really slow to get it out here.”

I can imagine him doing that, bundled up against the cold, proud of his ingenuity.

“I love it.”

Atom huffs and pulls me to him, our arms wrapping around each other. “It’s wild. There have been a number of times I’ve thought of you while I was building it and while I’ve spent time here.”

“Why?”

“I guess, in hindsight, I could never really see anyone but you here. It’s a tough sell, Em: Come live with me off grid, out in the middle of nowhere. No takeout. No shopping. No bars or restaurants. Only emergency satellite internet. Even if it’s only for a few days at a time.”

I sigh as I relax next to him. “Man, I would disappear here for weeks at a time, if I could.”

He kisses the tip of my nose. “I knew you’d appreciate it.”

Without warning, I let out a large yawn. With my hands around Atom, I’m not even fast enough to cover my mouth. “Sorry,” I say, finally.

Atom smiles. “Let’s get your face cleaned up so you can get into bed. Find your toiletries.”

He disappears into the bathroom, and when I get there, he’s found a towel and face cloth and hands them to me. “I don’t think the tanks have enough water for a full shower, but I’ll fix that in the morning. Just clean up enough so you feel comfortable sleeping.”

I do as he says, stripping down to the sleep tank I’m still wearing beneath my other clothes. The state of my face is a shock. How could Atom have looked at me so endearingly when I’m covered in gray dust, with track marks for my tears?

Hot mess is the only way to describe me.

I make quick work of brushing my teeth and washing my face, trying to conserve water so there is some left for Atom.

When I’m done, I step back into the living room and find Atom has already turned down the bedding. He’s stripped to the waist.

“That’s better,” I say. “I feel more human again.”

Atom smiles. “Good. Climb in.”

He holds the blankets up, and I scramble in. I don’t even care that this is a long way from being a cute sleep set I’m wearing. The pattern is so faded, I can barely remember what it is.

When his hand gently smacks my ass, I chuckle and face plant into the pillows.

It’s hard to stay awake until he’s done. The idea of being here, alone, in bed with Atom, is arousing. But not quite enough to overcome the fact my bar has burned down, I’m emotionally overwrought, and I desperately need to get some sleep.

My eyelids feel heavy, the bedding warm, perhaps too warm on such a hot night. While I was in the bathroom, Atom opened the windows. Protected with large screens to stop bugs getting in, I feel perfectly comfortable and cozy.

Atom is equally quick in the way he washes up. When he emerges from the bathroom, he moves through the space with ease, checking locks and turning off lights. The last thing he does before he climbs into bed is grab his gun and put it on the table next to the bed.

“It’s just a precaution,” he says. “Not sure anything or anyone is gonna bother us, but better to be safe.”

He releases the cord holding the curtain back, and it swishes to close off the bedroom from the rest of the building. Then he climbs into bed, the mattress jiggling slightly as he joins me.

“Come here,” he says, stretching his arm out toward me.

I roll towards him, willing my body and mind to rouse for him. But when I try to move and kiss him, he kisses my forehead gently. “Just go to sleep, sweetheart. You need your rest.”

And safely in his arms, I fall fast to sleep.

22

ATOM

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