Page 53 of Atlas

Willa grasps her arms so hard that her knuckles whiten. Probably so she doesn’t accidentally release a hand and smack me as good and hard as my dumb ass deserves. She’s dressed. The fog in my brain clears off. She must have pulled on her clothes right before coming after me. I notice how skewed they are, and her shirt is on backwards.

“What’s going on?” she demands, eyes raking over me like a scanner, as though she can find the truth hidden beneath my skin, lodged between tissue and bone. “I’ve seen enough of life to know that there’s a crazy amount of shit in the world. No one needs to add any more to it by being a tool bag. If you think that’s how I’m going to react to you telling me what the real issue is, you’re wrong.”

“They’remytruths,” I snap at her. “You have no right to them.”

Anyone else might tell me to go to hell and step out of the way so I can fuck right off until I’m in a better headspace, but not Willa. Never, never this brave, incredible woman. She doesn’t need the golden child version of me that the rest of the world created and bought into. She just wants me. I fucking know that, but it’s so hard to trulybelieveit. I’d rather self-sabotage and implode to shit instead because that’ssaferfor both of us.

“You’re right.” She drops her hands, the tension flowing out of her. “I don’t have any right to demand that you tell me anything. This is obviously something more than just what I did. I don’t have any right to demand that you let me in or let me help you. I want to, as a friend and as someone who cares about you. I want to be your partner and have you come to me for help and lean on me when you need it, but I can see why that’s an unattractive option. The world tells men they can’t be soft. Life tells them that they need to be hard hardasses.”

She obviously expects me to say something biting or try to push past her, but when I don’t do anything at all, she keeps going. “To me, that looked like a rank panic attack. That doesn’t make you broken or weird. Panic attacks are an actual disorder that can be treated. Anxiety is not fucking made up and youdo notneed to be ashamed.”

Forget the dark, the closed throat, the sickness creeping up my esophagus. Forget my bruised lungs, even the endless shame that I’ve felt at not being the perfect child or teenager or man that everyone wanted and saw and expected… none of that matters more than the way Willa is looking at me.

My eyes get hot and achy, my throat scratchy, my airway tight for a different reason. The banging pain in my temples intensifies, but then Willa is there, fisting her hands in my t-shirt and wrenching me close.

I fall into her, catching her as she breaks against me.

Her arms wrap low around my waist so she doesn’t press against the broken skin on my back.

“I’m so mad at you,” she seethes under her breath, her cheek pressed to my chest. “I’m so mad that you thought you couldn’t tell me this, and at the same time, I’m not mad at youat all, because I know if it was me, I would try to justhandle iton my own. I wouldn’t like it, and I’d probably even be ashamed that something is not fuckingrightin my head. I’d be frustrated and I’d feel alone, and if anyone ever said anything to me about it, it would probably make it all worse.”

She tilts her face up and the intensity and theloveshining there, breaks me. My chest aches, my throat growing even thicker. “My sister would have understood if it had been me and I’d gone to her. So would your parents and your sister, or your brother, or so many of those guys at the club. Why did you think you had to do it alone?”

She pulls me tighter, standing so there’s nothing between our bodies, not even air.

I tilt my face down to the crown of her head, lost in the scent of her skin and her hair, ofus together. I close my eyes and gravity does the rest. The moisture slicks down my cheeks, bathing her hair, but it’s not a violent storm.

All these years, maybe this is what I needed. It’s been a painful road to get here and maybe I was wrong, but this will always be my everything moment. The moment where I let go of all of it, where I pour my soul out and set my heart and all its burdens down into a set of capable hands. I needed the gentle rain that is Willa. My heart needed to be crushed and broken and pieced back together with hers.

No matter what I’ve done, what oaths I’ve taken, or who I tried to let in, it’s always been just me in my head. Alone.

It’s so fucking terrifying to finally be seen and so, so right.

This isn’t the end of me. This is the start of healing. A new beginning. A path that broadens so I no longer have to walk it alone.

Chapter 16

Willa

Seeing the man I love in so much anguish twists my chest. It’s like I’m being wrung out until my soul leaves my body.

I can’t imagine howhe’sfeeling.

I’ve never had a panic attack, but I’ve struggled with anxiety on and off. I’m very lucky that it was mostly situational, and if I worked out, took care with what I was eating, and tried to get enough sleep, it usually went away. I’m extra, extra lucky that I had Lynette there to guide me and help me through all the tough times and the not so tough times. With every passing day, I’m realizing more and more just how much she’s done for me that I didn’t even consciously realize before.

I slip my hand to Atlas’ arm, running it up and down slowly and soothingly. “Can I get you some water?”

He shakes his head, glancing back in the direction we just came.

“What hurts physically? You scraped your backhard. I think we need to go upstairs where I can help you wash it out and bandage it up.”

He winces. “Just let me get the cameras online first. The last thing I want is someone from the club showing up.”

I run my hand over his arm one more time, stopping at his wrist to flatten my palm over his and thread our fingers together. He doesn’t need any more worries right now. “Can I help you?I’ll make sure the back is cleaned up.” There’s orange juice spilled on the floor and restraints just lying there. I didn’t stop to get my bra on, andthat’san item I really wouldn’t like Wizard to spot when the cameras go back on.

I’m reluctant to let Atlas go. I don’t release him until we reach the back. He seems just as hesitant to drop my hand. While I’m cleaning up, I keep my eyes on him. You’d never know from the outside that something terrible just happened. It’s almost frightening how good he is at hiding, but isn’t that all of us?

The ominous dark spot on the back of his shirt lights a fire under my ass. I have everything clean and tucked away within a few minutes. Atlas is fast with the cameras. Switching them back on is as simple as finishing the adjustments and swiping through the programming on his phone.

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