Page 34 of Atlas Uncharted

My grip tightened on the steering wheel. I kept my eyes forward, focused on the rearview mirror instead of him. Dion hummed softly to himself, oblivious.

“I don’t need your help, Atlas.” I didn’t mention the apology.

Atlas leaned forward, his presence seeming too big for the huge SUV. “I think you do.” His voice was gentle. “Your dad said you’re looking for apartments. Let me help you. I know you just planned to wing it. I’ve called ahead to some places, got codes to enter and check them out—your price range and enough space for kids. For Dion.”

He knew me too well. I had no real plan—just a vague idea of what I was looking for, hoping it would all come together. Atlas was organized. He always had been. His eyes caught mine in the mirror.

“I want to be friends again. Leave the past in the past,” he added.

I went to chewing the hell out of the inside of my cheek to keep from telling him we weren’t friends ever. . He wasn’t wrong, I needed help. But letting him in, even just a little, meant getting closer. And I didn’t know if I could handle that right now. But Ashlen might say something any day now about Dion, and I’d rather tell Atlas myself. This was the perfect time.

“Fine,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “You can help.”

Atlas smiled, relief spreading across his face. “Good,” he said.

I glanced back at Dion, who was babbling softly to himself, his chubby hands playing with the straps of his car seat. Atlas reached over, brushing Dion’s hair back with a tenderness that made something in my chest tighten.

“Hey, little man,” he said, grinning at Dion.

Watching them together felt surreal. There was an easiness in the way Atlas was with Dion, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The drive to the first house was quiet, apart from Dion’s occasional bursts of chatter. Atlas carried him when we arrived, his large hands cradling Dion like he was a baby instead of a three-year-old. We walked through the house, Atlas pointing out details—things I hadn’t even noticed—like the layout and how the rooms would work for Dion.

He was thorough. Practical. It was a beautiful house, but my thoughts were elsewhere.

“You know,” Atlas said out of nowhere, “Dion’s pretty advanced for a two-year-old.”

I felt my throat tighten, panic creeping in. Dion would be three in a few days. I had forgotten Dion had told him that. He’d beensaying “I two” since he was one—one of his friends at daycare taught him. I avoided Atlas’s gaze, brushing off the comment.

“Yeah, he’s pretty smart,” I replied. Before he could ask more, I quickly shifted the conversation. “What about this place? How much is it?”

Atlas studied me for a moment before answering, a small crease forming between his brows. I knew he noticed the way I changed the subject, but thankfully, he didn’t press.

“It’s priced decently,” he said. “Close to your dad and Ms. Shirley. I think it’s perfect for you.”

“You did well choosing this place. I don’t even think I need to look anymore,” I said as we wandered through the kitchen.

Atlas stopped to lean against the counter, watching Dion explore the house, his small hands touching every surface.

“You didn’t answer me earlier,” he said, breaking the silence. “When’s Dion’s birthday?”

This was the moment. I had rehearsed it over and over, imagining how I would tell him. I could feel the truth rising to the surface, ready to spill out.

But before it could, my phone rang. I flinched, pulling it out and checking the screen. Davis.

I glanced at Atlas, who raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. With a small sigh, I answered. “Hey.”

“Hey, babe. How’s everything going? How’s Dion?”

Davis was a much-needed distraction. My gaze flicked to Atlas. He continued to lean against the counter, arms crossed, watching me. He didn’t even pretend not to listen.

“We’re good,” I said. “Dion’s fine. We’re just looking at some places.”

“Good to hear. I miss you guys.”

“I miss you too,” I replied, trying to keep my voice low. “I’ll call you later, okay? I’m in one of the houses now.”

After hanging up, I slid the phone back into my pocket, turning to face Atlas. His expression was unreadable, but I could feel the tension in the room.

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