Page 47 of Atlas Uncharted

“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “Atlas thinks we can make this work. He’s acting like everything’s already decided, like I don’t have a choice.”

He sighed. “And maybe you don’t,” he said bluntly. “Maybe it’s time you stop fighting everything and start taking responsibility for what you’ve done.”

I blinked, stunned. “You think I should just go along with this? With Atlas?”

“I think you’ve been running from your choices for too long,” he said, steady. “It’s time you face the consequences, Kairi. Stop making things worse by fighting him at every turn. Or fight him, ruin your career, and risk losing Dion.”

I didn’t have an answer. I just sat there, staring.

It felt like I’d backed myself into a corner so tight, even my own father thought I deserved whatever came next.

Chapter 33

Kairi

I pulled up to the house after leaving my father’s, trying to breathe through the mess in my head. My daddy had hurt the hell out of my feelings, and I’d left his house more confused than when I’d walked in. But one thing was clear: I needed to stop fighting—at least for now. Or fight for real and tell Atlas I’d see him in court. But the truth was, I didn’t want to do that. I wanted us to be amicable for Dion’s sake.

When I stepped inside, I was hit by the smell of pancakes. I saw Atlas in the kitchen with Dion. I stood there for a moment, watching them—Dion in his seat giggling at nothing, Atlas flipping pancakes—and it felt surreal. This was what he wanted. This picture-perfect family. Was there something so wrong with that, after all he’d been through? Was I a monster for not wanting to give it to him?

Atlas glanced up when he noticed me. “So you decided to come back?”

I swallowed, forcing myself to take the next step. “Yeah. And I’ve decided—you win. I’m going to do what you want. I’m going to keep the peace.”

He smiled, a slow, knowing smirk that irked me. “You’ll see, Kairi. It’ll all work out.”

I was skeptical. More than skeptical—but what other choice did I have? “Do you need help with breakfast?” I asked, trying to sound casual as I walked into the kitchen, setting my keys on the island. I washed my hands and kissed Dion on the cheek.

Atlas didn’t respond. He just watched me with that steady gaze like he was waiting for something else. I didn’t know what else he expected. Maybe he wanted an explanation for where I’d been. He wouldn’t get one.

Ignoring him, I walked over to the eggs he’d set out and cracked them into a bowl, whisking them with more force than necessary. This felt all too fucking domesticated. Was this the life I wanted? I hadn’t even written since I’d been back.

We spent the morning finishing breakfast, and somehow, it wasn’t terrible—but I hated how easily Atlas slipped into this role, like he’d been waiting for this moment, for me to fall in line.

Later, he decided we would take Dion to the strawberry festival. I had always planned on taking Dion, so I got dressed without protest. After throwing on an oversized T-shirt, tights, and Nikes, I was pulling my hair into a ponytail when I heard the bedroom door open. I didn’t think much of it—until I saw him in the mirror. Atlas was completely naked. He had used the guest bathroom to shower. My pupils blew wide open. Him, with his skin damp, muscles taut—was a work of art. The air suddenly felt too thick. He pulled his towel from his shoulder and dragged it over his hair slowly, like he was starring in a damn commercial.

For a second, I couldn’t look away.

He caught me looking, and a smirk curved his lips, snapping me out of it.

I briefly closed my eyes. He was trying to kill me. “I need to get Dion dressed.”

I turned quickly, nearly stumbling out of the room.

His quiet laugh followed me.

I went to Dion’s room to dress him in the outfit his daddy had laid out—a black polo and khaki shorts. “Your daddy thinks he’s funny. The butthole.” Dion smiled, his toothy grin making me smile back despite myself.

I sighed and kissed the top of his head before setting him down. “Come on, let’s go show Daddy how cute you look,” I said lightly, even though my heart was heavy—and my panties were damp.

We waited in the living room. When Atlas came downstairs wearing the exact same outfit as Dion, my heart damn near melted. This man was not playing fair. I pretended not to notice and followed him out after he scooped Dion up. I let him strap Dion into his Land Rover, wondering how Ashlen thought they were broke when the cars they drove were less than two years old and expensive as fuck.

Dion fell asleep as soon as the car started. We drove in silence. My eyes wandered the dashboard and landed on a book that looked familiar.

I reached over and picked it up, flipping it in my hands. It was one of mine. A limited printing, a collection of short stories I wrote years ago after he knocked at my door. It had only been given out to a few hundred people for a private event. I didn’t even have a copy anymore.

“Where did you get this?” I asked.

He glanced at me, still focused on the road. “I paid some book guy seven hundred to find it for me. I have all your books.”

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