Page 8 of Atlas

I can’t say I appreciated my parents love all that much growing up. As a kid, I often was pretty immature about it, but as a grown man, I’m learning. I watch. I listen. I soak it in with different eyes. They’ve been together for twenty-nine years, and that’s no small deal.

“Mom!” I cut off her endless questions, laughing. I often have to act because of the fact that I’m not ‘normal,’ but I feel good today. Despite the crowds, despite having to jam myself into Willa’s truck this morning, despite the stress of getting everything ready for today, the heavy sensation that usually sits hard on my shoulders is a much lighter mantel. “Let’s go inside. We’ll look around and you can ask Willa anything you need.”

“Oh.” Mom waves her hand, but what she really wants is for me to convince her. “I don’t want to bother her. She’s probably busy.”

“Sheisbusy, but she’ll be so happy to see you and talk to you.”

“She’s the best, Simon. Just an absolute sweetheart.” My mom, like Georgia, isn’t exactly subtle.

My throat thickens and something in my chest burns. I know they’re right, but it’s not that simple. What Willa and Ihave is a good thing. Losing Jodie crushed me but breaking the trust the guys—especially Bullet—have put in me, as well as possibly fucking things up and ruining a friendship that has been responsible for getting me through the hardest time of my life and bringing me through to the other side, isn’t an option.

Feelings are messy. They’re dangerous.

Even if I could untangle mine, Willa’s her own person. A force of nature, Georgia called her. That’s pretty much the truest description I’ve ever heard.

Then there’s the fact that some days, I tend to wig out and even though those are thebadones, the good ones are still generally baddish. How would it be fair to saddle someone else with that? I tried to tell Jodie, and she told me exactly what I already thought. That no grown man should be this weak. I never really thought of myself as pathetic until she used that exact word.

“I know, Mom,” I mumble.

Alongside Georgia, we thread through the crowd to take my parents inside. They’ve already walked this building countless times throughout renovations, but they haven’t seen it all put together, and though this is Willa’s day, that swell of pride swamps my chest again.

It’s not just the parts that I’m responsible for, like the construction and grunt work, but how my club brothers and their families made this a reality. And above all, at how the dreams and hard work of a woman, beautiful in every way, culminated in this incredible day.

I get another twinge in my chest, this one unwelcome, but I refuse to let anything ruin this. I’ve become a master atbreathing, though subtly, and I do that now, smiling as I exhale and using my natural charm on the inhales so that no one would ever suspect that the golden boy is so, so tarnished.

Chapter 4

Willa

“Put the mask on, Atlas. Barns are dirty and dusty. There could be mouse shit, bird shit, other shit. All of that could carry disease.”

Atlas crosses his arms and tilts his face in such a way that his long hair falls forward in waves that shimmer in the sun. His stubborn expression only highlights the chiseled planes of his face, and his eyes spark with defiance.

The sun is unrelenting today. We’re in a June heatwave, which is pretty much unheard of with Hart’s more temperate climate. Staring at the man right in front of me who is nothing short of sports magazine cover gorgeous, my skin breaks out in goosebumps while sweat trickles down the back of my neck and beads at my temples.

“I don’t think a little mask is going to help.”

He flicks theN95back at me so that it sways in my outstretched hand.

“Don’t be a donkey’s ass,” Georgia snaps, grabbing the mask from me and forcing it at her brother. “Put it on Simon.”

I try very hard not to smile. Watching these two together is pure magic. People expect Atlas’ ego to be the size of this entire fucking state because he looks the way he does, but he’s actually soft spoken and kindhearted. The guys at the club rib him good and he jokes around with them, giving as good as he gets, but with his sister, he’s much softer.

He rolls his eyes at her, takes the mask, and walks it over to the Harley he restored. He hangs it on the handlebars next to his helmet. “There. I know where to find it if I need it.”

I swallow back the urge to curse at him for his stubbornness and angle myself towards the ramshackle cedar barn instead.

As far as old barns go, it’s about as decrepit as they come, but looks like it won’t fall in on us when we venture inside. The farmhouse at the top of the circular driveway which loops around the whole yard and encompasses several other outbuildings and sheds, is in a little better shape, but not much. At least some of the house’s white paint remains, but the barn’s red has long stripped away, leaving fuzzy graying boards behind.

“Are you sure she said it was okay to just take out whatever we want?”

I drove around this whole area a few months ago, in search of places that might be hidden gems when it came to picking. I had this one on the list, and a few weeks ago, I knocked on the door of that little white farmhouse.

Agatha is lovely. She asked me in for tea, and when I explained to her what it was I wanted, she said that I was welcome to come back.

“She gave us the go ahead. I told her that I’d make a pile outside the barn, and she could come inspect everything to make sure she’s okay with selling it, and then she could give me a price. I thought that was fair.”

“And she said the whole barn is full?”

---