Page 19 of Atlas Uncharted

I had never begged a day in my life. Not for anything. But I’d get on my fucking knees for her if she asked me to.

She maneuvered herself so she could get from under me, then she scrambled to her feet, her movements quick and jerky, like a scared animal. Ashlen’s voice called out again, closer this time, and I watched as Kairi turned and walked away from me. She was running, and I let her go. I had already begged. What the fuck else could I do?

I stayed there, lying in the grass, staring up at the stars, feeling the most profound sadness of my life. My throat was dry, like ashes had been shoved in my mouth.

Ashlen found me a few minutes later. She was drunk, as always, unaware of my not wanting her there. “What are you doing out here?” she asked, her giggle grating against my nerves.

“Just needed some air,” I replied, forcing a smile that felt like it would crack my face in half. “Let’s go back inside.”

She pulled me to my feet, leading me back to the party, back to the life I was supposed to live. But inside, I was hollow. All I could think about was Kairi, slipping away into the night, taking a piece of me with her that I’d never get back.

Chapter 11

Kairi

“Extra pickles, please,” I said, handing my menu back to the waiter with a smile. He nodded, scribbling on his notepad, and I turned my attention back to my phone, my fingers already tapping out the opening lines of my new romance novel.

“Love isn’t always a choice. Sometimes, it’s a collision—two souls crashing into each other, leaving behind a mess neither of them knows how to clean up.”

I paused, my thumb hovering over the screen. It was a strong start, but something about it felt too raw, too close to the truth. I shook my head, trying to push the thought away. This was fiction, after all. Just a story.

And then, the air shifted.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but I felt it—a prickle at the back of my neck, a sudden awareness that made my skin hum. I glanced up, my eyes scanning the room as I searched for the cause.

My eyes landed on Atlas. Just outside.

My heart began thumping in my chest.

I blinked, half-expecting him to disappear, a figment of my imagination conjured by the subject of my new book.

But he didn’t.

He was real, in the flesh, older now, his green eyes scanning the room like he was looking for something—or someone. My heart pounded in my chest, and I quickly looked down, pretending to be engrossed in my phone.

This isn’t happening, I told myself. This can’t be happening.

But it was.

He stepped through the door like he owned the place, flanked by three men in suits who looked like they’d stepped out of a GQ spread. But Atlas—he was the one who commanded the room, his presence as magnetic as ever, even if the years had carved something harder, sharper, into his features. He looked older, tired, like the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders.

Two years.

Two years since I’d last seen him. Two years since I’d traded the sticky, suffocating Florida heat for the electric pulse of New York City, which had its own equally suffocating heat. Two years of building a life that felt like mine. Freelance writing gigs that paid the bills (most of the time), an apartment in Harlem that smelled like sage and ambition, and a circle of friends who felt more like family. I was content.

But now, like a ghost from a life I’d tried to bury, one of the main sources of all the baggage in my life walked into my favorite sandwich shop.

For a moment, I forgot how to move. How to think. How to breathe.

Ashlen had mentioned him in one of our rare conversations, the kind we only had on birthdays or holidays now. She’d told me he’d taken over his father’s company, that they wereliving together in Florida, that they were planning a wedding. I’d nodded along, pretending it didn’t sting, pretending I didn’t care. I pretended Atlas had begged me to be with him.

I thought about saying hello, about walking over and pretending everything was fine, that we were just old friends catching up. But I couldn’t.

“Kairi?” The waitress’s voice cut through the haze, her tone impatient. “Order’s up!”

I blinked, snapping back to reality. My hands fumbled as I grabbed the paper bag she shoved across the counter. I muttered a quick “Thanks” and turned, my pulse racing as I slung my tote bag over my shoulder and made a beeline for the door.

I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.

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