Page 28 of Atlas Uncharted

Davis leaned against the railing, looking up at the brownstone like it was sacred ground. “Love is a high mountain, stark in a windy sky. If you would never lose your breath, do not climb too high.”

“Langston Hughes,” I said, recognizing the words.

He nodded. “This is where he was rumored to have lived when he wrote it,” he said. “A friend of mine lives here now. I thought you would appreciate it.”

“Wow. How thoughtful. Very fucking mindful and demure,” I joked, though there was something about the way Davis handled the morning—his casual confidence in knowing I would enjoymyself—that had me feeling like I’d done the right thing by saying yes to breakfast.

Davis chuckled, but then his face went serious. He looked at me hard. “I like you, Kairi. You’re special. I can feel it. And if you stop trying to push me away when you’re not using me for sex.” He chuckled again “I’ll show you I am too. I’m a grown-ass man with no kids. I have my shit together, and I’m ready to see where something between us can go, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

I stared at him, his words sinking in for a while. “I think I can do that,” I finally said.

Davis grinned, leaning in to kiss me softly. We sat down on the steps, unwrapping our sandwiches, the morning settling around us like a promise.

Chapter 17

Kairi

I sat on the side of my bed, staring at the open suitcase. Six months with Davis had been enough to make me consider a future—a life outside of New York like I’d planned after I finished my next release. Harlem was the setting, and I didn’t want to leave until the research was done. I’d already sent everything important to me to Florida. Now Davis was talking about coming with me. I didn't love Davis yet, but I could feel myself starting to. Everything was going great, but a phone call from Ashlen made it feel like she was unraveling everything, yanking me back into a past I didn’t want to face.

But Ashlen’s voice had been thick with tears, too intense to ignore. They were the kind of tears that made your chest feel like it was being torn apart. "Please come. I lost them," she said, referring to her twin girls. She’d had in vitro, and she and Atlas had spent so much money on it. She said she needed me. And I remembered that I owed her that. No matter how much distance I’d tried to put between us, we were still bound by the compassion she had shown for a twelve-year-old girl when she was too young to consider how others felt, let alone do something about it. She was a part of the reason I was who I was today. And then there was the guilt for what I’d done.

I told Davis I’d go—told him I’d probably stay a week because that’s all I could handle. He didn’t argue, just nodded and saidhe’d meet me after his book conference. And I could introduce him to my family then.

The Uber ride to the airport was quiet—just me and my thoughts—and by the time I boarded the plane, I felt like I was sleepwalking, moving through the motions without really being there. Florida’s heat hit me like a brick wall when I landed, suffocating, as if the past was already trying to choke the fucking life out of me.

I checked into my hotel in Tampa, collapsed onto the bed, and let the exhaustion take over. I’d drive to Sarasota the next morning. Sleep was fitful, haunted by memories I’d tried to bury, but the next morning, I was up before the sun, dragging myself through the motions of throwing myself back into the fray of a relationship between three people that I couldn’t have even imagined for a book. I wasn’t ready, but I went anyway.

When I pulled up into their neighborhood, I was surprised it was so regular. The house was normal—a two-story brick ranch-style home with a porch; it even had a white picket fence. Atlas opened the door. He looked a mess—wrinkled clothes, whiskey on his breath, eyes that were vacant, hair thinning. The sight of him made something twist in my gut: pity. And something petty in me enjoyed the sight of him that way. I was going to hell.

“Why are you here?” His voice was flat.

“Because Ashlen asked me to come,” I said, keeping my tone soft, though I wanted to scream. “I’m sorry for your loss, Atlas.” I fisted my hands at my sides, not knowing if hugging him was appropriate or if he would even want me to.

He stared at me like he was trying to figure out if I was real or just another ghost haunting the corners of his mind. “You look different,” he finally said.

“So do you,” I replied, cringing as the words slipped nastily out before I could stop them.

He just nodded like that was all there was to say. “Ashlen’s in the hospital. She’ll be back later.”

“Go lay down, Atlas,” I said, fighting the urge again to reach out, to touch his arm, to offer something more than words. “Get some rest.”

He hesitated, his eyes searching mine for something—maybe for the girl I used to be, the somebody he thought he used to know. But then he nodded again and turned, disappearing up the stairs without another word.

I stood there, the silence pressing in on me. Their house was a mess—probably because Ashlen was on bed rest and a budget—and I doubted Atlas was cleaning much. She had told me he had to find a job in IT when his father’s company tanked after she convinced him to hold on to it. He had paid the employees’ severances, nearly bankrupting himself. It had made the news. I did the only thing I knew how to do—I cleaned. I scrubbed the kitchen, the counters, the floors, trying to erase the chaos. But I couldn’t stop wondering how bad Ashlen would look when she got home, or about the sadness in Atlas's eyes. He wanted kids, badly.

When Atlas came back downstairs hours later, he was cleaner, but the exhaustion still clung to him. I could see he was still handsome as he stood in the doorway, watching me with those eyes, and I felt the urge to scream at him again—to make him see what he’d become, what they’d become.

“I cooked and cleaned,” I said, my voice too loud in the quiet room. “Ordered groceries, too. When Ashlen gets home, she can be comfortable.”

He nodded, but his eyes stayed on me like he was trying to figure out what I was really doing there—like he didn’t believe I was just here for Ashlen. He was right. I was there for him too. The first day I met him, I told myself not to pick at his layers or try to figure him out. But quietly, while watching, I had. I knew him. I knew he was dying inside. He was a control freak who was used to things going his way. They hadn’t since college.

He turned and left the room without saying anything, and that’s when the tears came—hot and fast, slipping down my cheeks before I could stop them. I wiped them away, refusing to break down, refusing to let the weight of it all crush me. Not yet.

“You can get through this, Kairi,” I whispered. I had to believe it was true, because the only other option was falling apart—and I wasn’t going to do that. Not here. Not in front of them.

Chapter 18

Kairi

---